In A Family Way

In A Family Way

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica


Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica


The third installment of our little chronicles. If you want the full story, read "Mercenary Marital Bliss" first, followed by "Those Wicked Nephews."


The third installment of our little chronicles. If you want the full story, read "Mercenary Marital Bliss" first, followed by "Those Wicked Nephews."

Chapter13 (v.1) - Shit Hits The Fan

Author Chapter Note

Kim finds out the truth ...

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: March 13, 2019

Reads: 375

Comments: 4

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: March 13, 2019



The seventh of January rolled around as it normally does at least once a year.  It had stopped snowing but the temperature was still bitterly cold with a nasty wind chill.  Roads, for the most part, were clear.  But the ground was still covered and large drifts and huge piles of snow decorated sidewalks, buildings, parking lots, medians and the like.  

Stephanie had gone home a couple of days before, happily reunited with a horny Curtis, who was glad to be released from the hospital and back into bed with his wife.  Skype sex with Steph and a side of Kim thrown in is fun, but no substitute for the reality.  I can vouch for that.

The two of them were also having serious discussions about children and their future, thanks to Kim and I.  

As far as work went, the courts were shut down as well as all other county offices, so no pickups for an AP stringer working that beat.  The criminals were all holed up in their warm little beds, so no sketch artist work.  And the clubs had been dead in the water.  Apparently not even strippers could get people out in this weather.  But on the seventh of January, Kim started her eighth week of pregnancy and the mail was running again.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget that day, not as long as I live.  We had run out of bread, milk, eggs and tuna, the latter being a serious issue for my wife.  She asked me to run to Shoppers and pick up some groceries because Google showed the parking lot clear and the store open.  So we walked down the steps of our apartment building, me to go to the store, Kim to get the pile of mail from our box.

I stood next to her in the lobby beside the mail boxes, not quite ready to go out the doors into that nasty cold.  Kim opened our box, pulled out a bunch of letters, too many of which were bills.  She leafed through them and paused with a frown and worried her bottom lip.  “That’s weird,” she said.


“A letter from Mark to me, postmarked from his frat at the college.  They went back for Jan term, right?”

“That’s what they said at Christmas.  Kevin’s taking some statistics class.  I don’t remember what Mark said.”

“Why would he write me?”

“Has to be about that last night at my parents, I guess.”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “I’ll let you read it when you get back.  Hurry home, Love.”

And with that, she gave me a kiss, turned and trotted up the steps.

I braced myself against the cold.  Hat and gloves were in place, long Dr. Who scarf and coat.  Then I dashed outside and to our SUV, parked next to our little black Honda Civic that Kim usually drove.It took about five minutes to warm the vehicle and get everything cleared off, another ten to get to the store, ten to fifteen to get all the groceries, another ten back.  I was pulling into my normal slot in the parking lot, when I noticed the Civic was gone.

It was the oddest sensation.  Where the hell would she go on a day like today?  Had it been any other day, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it.  But it was so damn cold and messy out and she’d told me to hurry home.

I paused and sent her a text.  “Hey baby, where are you?”

I sat there for about thirty seconds, waiting  There was no answer, which probably meant she was driving.  I sighed, gathered up all the groceries and made my way up inside with the bags.

When I got in the apartment, I had to just stop and stare with astonishment.  Things were shattered, hurled around the room, swept off the desk and kitchen counter.  Glass from a vase that normally sat on our little dining table filled with fake flowers had been thrown against the front door.  The flowers and shards crunched beneath my feet.

I could hardly digest what I was seeing, the mayhem.  Never in our five years of marriage had I seen Kim actually break anything in anger.  I closed the door and stepped into the kitchen in something of a daze, not comprehending what could have caused it.  My stomach was doing cartwheels and somersaults.  My breath was getting short.  And then I saw the letter spread flat on our bed, centered and demanding my attention.

Shaken I walked quickly across the studio apartment and swept it up:

“Aunt Kim, there’s something I have to tell you.  Something that I can’t keep secret now that I know you are pregnant.  Don’t worry, I haven’t told anyone, least of all Kevin.  At first, I was going to, but after thinking about it I can’t; because if I did, he would try to talk me out of telling you this.

“But I have to tell you now, so you can know and decide what to do.  After we got to your apartment for the Thanksgiving break, while you and Uncle Ethan were out, we did something.  Kevin did something; and I didn’t stop him ....”

I read the account of how my nephews played what had to be the dirtiest prank of their lives, switching Kim’s Contragel, the spermicide for her diaphragm, with Kevin’s tube of Bioclarity.  I slumped to the floor, sliding off the edge of the bed, staring at the words in front of me, trying to comprehend what it meant in light of everything that happened that week.  The room started swimming.

The letter continued, “At first we had no idea that this would put you at risk of pregnancy from anyone but Uncle Ethan.  We didn’t know you were swingers.  Then things happened the night we went to the club and spiraled from there.  I told Kevin we needed to stop and come clean, but he said, ‘It was done and too late to change anything, so we might as well make the most of it and have as much fun as we could.’  I’m ashamed I went along with it.”

The letter ended with profuse apologies and another statement to Kim about having to tell her “the whole truth.”

I let the piece of paper flutter to the floor.  There was no way, of course, that they could have known about Kim and I’s secret lifestyle prior to their “practical joke.”  But even without that knowledge on their part, I was appalled.  I covered my face and thought again of my own impregnation fetish, Ashley and fucking karma.  And then I quickly looked up, looked around the room and dove for my phone.

Kim didn’t respond to calls, voice mails or texts.  I must have tried a dozen times in the space of ten minutes:  “Kim, I read the letter, please call me.”  “Kim, we really need to talk.  I need to talk to you.”  “Kim, don’t do anything rash, please.”  “Kim, where are you?”  “Kim, please at least tell me that you’re safe, that you’re okay.”  “Kim, I love you.  I need you.”

I’m not even sure all the things I said.  When a half hour went by without hearing a word, I started to get physically ill.  I went down, got in our SUV and began driving around to every place I could think of that seemed reasonable for her to go.  I went to Planned Parenthood and all the local clinics that I knew provided those services.  I drove passed all of our local friend’s houses and apartments.  I went to places we worked.  I drove around her campus.  I drove to our hang out spots, her gym.  The car was nowhere to be found.

Finally, in something akin to agony, I drove to the florist, bought a new vase, filled it with flowers, bought other gifts and drove back to the apartment. I cleaned up the mess, put out the gifts, turned off all the lights and sat on the floor waiting.


Kim glanced at the 12th or so text as she slowly made her way on 695 around the city towards Mark and Kevin’s campus.  Her eyes were hard and flat.  Her face set like stone.  She tossed the phone into the empty passenger seat, determined to ignore it.

The going was slow, considering the weather, but she eventually made it to the college campus, where she got directions to Greek row.  Once there, it was easy to identify the right fraternity.  She stopped the car a little down the street and across from it, staring at the building.  Then she reached over, picked up the phone and dialed Mark’s number.

He answered, breathless and nervous, the caller ID having identified the number as his aunt’s.  He’d been expecting the call, dreading the call, ever since he sent the letter.  “Hello ... aunt ... aunt Kim?”

“Hi Mark,” she said, her voice taking on a soft soothing tone that didn’t match the look in her eyes.  “I got your letter and I need to talk to you, privately, just you and me.  Are you at your frat house?”

“Uh ... yeah, yeah.”

“Is Kevin with you?”

“Uh, no, no he’s got class until 8:00 tonight.  Jan term, you know.  It’s like four hour block classes.”  

“That’s perfect,” she said, glancing at her watch.  “Where’s that class at?”

“Um ... you mean the building?”

“Yes, I’m here right now.”

“You ARE?”

“Yes, I wanna make sure he’s not going come back on break or something while we’re talking.  I’ll need to speak to him too, but ... I’m not ready yet, emotionally.  He still doesn’t know you sent the letter or that I’m ... pregnant?”

“No, no I haven’t said anything, just like you asked.  His class is in like ... it’s Stanley Hall, I’m pretty sure, on the other side of campus.  I ... I could meet you somewhere else, if you like.”

“No, your room is fine.  Meet me at the door in a couple of minutes please.”

With that, she turned off her phone and dropped it in her purse.  Bundling up tightly in her coat, she paused to look in the rear view mirror.  Kim spent several moments practicing her best fake stripper smile, a light reassuring one that somehow made her eyes twinkle with seductive amusement.  At that moment, though, the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, no matter how much she tried.  She decided that it would have to work, though, as she switched off the car, stepped out into the cold and made her way to the frat house.

Mark met her at the door, looking nervous as hell.  She gave him her best call girl effort at a smile and he quickly led her through the mostly dark and quiet fraternity.

“Hardly anyone’s here for the Jan Term,” he explained, just a couple of guy’s including Kevin and I.  They’ll be back when the regular semester starts later this month,” he said as he led her up a flight of stairs and down a hall to the room he shared with his brother.

They stepped inside.  It was a typical guy’s frat room: two desks, two beds, movie and music posters, trash can overflowing with empty beer cans and pizza boxes, TV, game system, the usual.  Kim took in the sight and glanced over at the bed that looked like it might be Mark’s.  There was no fitted sheet, just one discolored old flat sheet lazily tossed on top of a mattress, the comforter and other blankets balled up in the middle.

“This your bed,” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, offering her a seat.

“Cool,” she said, “Um, before we get started, can I borrow your phone.  My battery just died and I need to text Ethan and tell him I’m safe.”

“Uh ... sure, sure,” he said and quickly got his phone, handing it to her and telling her the pass code.

Kim unlocked his phone, then looked up at him and smiled sweetly, “Do you ... have anything to drink, Mark?  A glass of water is fine with ice.”

“Sure, I’ll be right back.”

Mark left the room and headed downstairs to the fraternity kitchen.  Kim quickly opened his contacts and found Cynthia’s number.  She glanced around the room and found the perfect position to place the phone, propping it on one side of a desktop computer.  She’d already gotten lucky once catching Mark alone at the house, not having to draw him out somewhere.  Now, she knew she had to get a little lucky again, but figured that her chances were pretty good.  So she found Cynthia’s name in his contact list and quickly put in a video call.

The call was answered within just a couple of seconds, the cheerful face of a cute blonde popping onto the screen.  Cynthia grinned and said, “Hey Sweetie, it’s a little earlier than our usual time.  Couldn’t wait huh?”

The grinned suddenly faded to confusion as she saw Kim’s face, looking back at her.  

“Hi Cynthia,” Kim said, “My name is Celeste.  I’m calling from Mark’s phone because, well ... I just thought you should know the truth.  You see, I’m one of at least two other girls your boyfriend has been fucking behind your back.  You can remember me as the one who’s pregnant.  And in case you don’t believe me, there’s something you need to see.  So, sit tight for  just a few minutes.  I’m gonna set you right here and turn the volume off.”

Kim quickly hit the little switch on the side of the phone, muting it.  Then she set the phone down, propping it so that the utterly stunned blonde commanded a view of Mark’s bed.  Kim gave her a somewhat pained smile and then quickly and efficiently began undressing, peeling off layers: coat, jeans, top and undergarments.  Mark walked back into the room, right as she tossed the last of her clothes onto the floor.

He was holding a glass of ice water.  His eyes were immediately, eagerly and hungrily drawn to his naked Aunt.

“I ... I ... didn’t expect ...”

“Shh,” she said stepping forward, taking the glass and setting it aside.  “I’ve thought about our sex at Thanksgiving so many times, Mark” she said a little breathlessly, “How you made me cum over and over.  I wanted to be with you again over Christmas but there was no opportunity.  Then when I got your letter ... your honesty ... your concern ... your forthrightness.  I just ... needed to come and say thank you for ... telling me the truth.  So ... thank you,” she whispered her voice soft and husky, her lips coming close, hovering.

Mark swallowed.  Blood rushed predictably to his cock.  A bulge began to form, “But ... what we did ... then taking advantage of you and ... the baby ....”

She pressed her lips to his.  He gave a soft groan, hands shaking with excitement moving to her waist.

“Doesn’t matter,” she lied with seductive whisper.  “I didn’t tell Ethan.  I won’t ever tell.  I burned it.”

“And you’re not gonna ever tell anyone either,” she added with another whisper and kiss.

“The paternity test, though, ... if ...”

“The results are by sample number, not name,” she giggled, winked and took his hand, drawing him towards the bed.  “I already checked with the doctor.  It’s simple enough to lie about that.  Besides, I don’t even wanna know myself.  I like not knowing.”

Mark gave another groan, his body responding to hers.  Kim smirked and said, “Take off your clothes, Mark.  Let me say, ‘thank you.’”

Mark stripped off his jeans, shoes and boxers as quickly as possible.  As his shirt came up over his head, Kim’s smile disappeared and she gave a cold angry look at the phone.  Cynthia was still on the line, hands over her mouth, tears streaming down her face.  The girl couldn’t hear the conversation, but she didn’t need to hear.  A second later Mark’s shirt was off and Kim’s coy and teasing grin was back in place.

She sniggered and put a hand on one cheek, to keep him from turning his head and accidentally seeing the phone.  Then kissing him she drew him down onto the bed and on top of her.

“Oh yes ... fuck me Mark,” she murmured in breathless anticipation as he eagerly mounted her in the push-up position, his hands clenching the edge of the mattress.

He brought his swollen cock down to her entrance and teased her labia with the tip, lubricating himself with her sex.  She gripped his biceps and raised her lips to his as his head came down.  They kissed gently.  Kim spread her legs and Mark, feeling the heat and teasing wetness around the glans of his shaft pushed his way inside of her.

Kim’s breath hitched.  Mark shook with excitement, groaned softly and began driving in and out of her, making her ass bounce on the mattress with each deep thrust:

“Yes Mark, do it, do it!” she encouraged, breaking their kiss and arching her head back as he dropped his mouth to her neck, biting and kissing.

She pulled her feet up further and hooked her heels on the back of his ass.  Mark started to shake and tremble.  “Fuck, so good,” he groaned.  “Been a while for me, can’t ... hold on ...”

“Go ahead ... finish,” she urged.

“What about ... you?”

“After,” she encouraged and bounced her hips upward, greedily meeting his thrusts, and driving him towards a rapid conclusion.

Mark gasped and gave himself over to the moment, holding his breath, grunting and unleashing inside of her with several hard pumps and a rush of jizz.  “Fuuuuuck!” he breathed when it was done and rolled off of her.  “Wanna ... give you ... pleasure,” he panted.

“No,” Kim said, dropping her smile, voice going utterly flat as she sat up on the bed.  “I don’t want anything more from you, Mark ... not now, not ever.  Besides, Cynthia’s seen enough, I think”

“What?  Wait!  What!?”  He sat up suddenly, as Kim briskly climbed off the bed and started dressing.  Mark’s eyes caught sight of the phone and widened in horror as he saw his girlfriend, the “love of his life” staring back at him over the face time call.  Cynthia’s face was hurt, stunned and now mottled red with swelling anger.

“No!” he yelled and dove for the phone.

Cynthia quickly ended the call before he could pick it up and un-mute it.

Kim ignored him as she finished dressing, got her coat on and casually downed the glass of water.  Checking her watch, she stepped out of the room and saw herself out of the fraternity, while Mark was busy, desperately trying to call Cynthia back and say ... well, who knows what he might have said.  She never answered.

Back in the car, Kim turned her phone back on and saw three more attempts from me to reach her.  “Sorry Ethan,” she muttered as she ignored them, “Almost done.”

Quickly she typed in Stanley Hall as the next destination in her GPS app.  She set the phone on top of her purse in the passenger seat, the reassuring bulge of her loaded Glock held it in place and kept it from sliding.

© Copyright 2019 grilledcheese. All rights reserved.


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