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Message-ID: <32830asstr$1002276603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Desdmona22@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} From Dusk Til Dawn I by Desdmona {MF preg) 
Date: Fri,  5 Oct 2001 06:10:03 -0400
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The following is a story of fiction that contains sexually explicit scenes 
betwen consenting adults. If you're not suppose to read it, then don't!


I have revised my story for the P2C contest. I happen to love this couple and 
their story and I felt it was worth revising just a little. I hope you enjoy 
reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

****************************************************************


 From Dusk Til Dawn (Revised)
By Desdmona


"He's coming home today," Matt said in hushed tones. He looked strong. His 
Henley shirt hugged his chest and was tucked neatly into his jeans. He lifted 
his arms in an open invitation, and I ran into them.

"I know. I still can't believe it." I thought I had exhausted all my tears, 
but my eyes grew misty once again.

"Maggie, honey, he's fine. He's perfect even, all the docs said so."

"I guess that's why I'm crying. Everything we've been through, I mean he's 
been through. He's finally coming home. We're so lucky."

He squeezed me tighter, and I breathed in Matt's distinctive smell. The scent 
was as familiar as baking cookies or fresh cut flowers and just as 
comforting. The last three months had been a roller coaster ride, a ride I 
was stuck on, and one I thought would never end. Through it all, Matt had 
been by my side, like a rock: solid and steadfast, bolstering me when I felt 
like crumbling and allowing me to do the same for him.

 I pulled from his embrace but held tight to his hand.

"Well, how does it look?" 

Matt looked around the room, ignoring the fact that he'd seen it dozens of 
times. He pulled me to the crib and punched the bumper pads as if checking 
the tires on a new car. He patted the edges of a homemade quilt with the 
ABC's cross-stitched on the front. He let go of my hand and wound up the 
mechanism on a baby-soft mobile.

"It looks ready for a baby!"

We watched as pastel yellow, puffy suns revolved to an achingly familiar 
tune. Matt grabbed my hand and pulled me close. The room was silent except 
for the tinkling sound of the mobile. He proceeded to guide me in a slow 
dance, my bare toes sinking into the plush carpet.

The song dwindled down to its end, but we continued to dance. We made our own 
music with beating hearts and rhythmic breathing. The twinges of long-missed 
arousal began to stir between my legs. The doctor had given the OK for sex 
six weeks ago, and I had obliged Matt, but this was the first time I had 
really felt an awakening. Matt's warm body, pressing into mine, fertilized my 
thoughts and my hormones.

I whispered close to Matt's ear. "Take off your clothes." My voice was 
breathy, like it would evaporate without being heard.

"Oh god, Mag! Are you sure?"

I couldn't say anything but "Yes." My throat was thick with emotion. My body 
tingled and I seemed to swell with each breath. I was overflowing from 
everywhere--my mind spilled with thoughts, my body danced with excitement and 
my heart thumped with love. I couldn't contain it all.

I watched as Matt removed his clothes. I'd seen his body a thousand times 
before, every dip of it recognizable. I prickled with the familiarity. I knew 
when I touched his chest, his skin would flinch and the muscle would bunch. I 
knew when I inched my way to his groin, I'd feel velvety flesh, surrounded by 
downy hair. I knew when I circled around his naval, his penis would bob up in 
appreciation.

When he was naked, he helped me with my clothes. He slipped my shirt over my 
head. He unzipped my pants, knelt in front of me, and eased them over my 
hips. My panties followed. He put his hot hands on my puffy belly and ran his 
fingertips along the Cesarean scar. And then wrapped his arms around and 
hugged me tightly against his face.

"Lie down, Matt." He didn't say a word; he just did what I asked.

It was easy and familiar as I lowered myself on top of him. It was sleek and 
moist as we guided his cock into my slit. It was hot and penetrating as I 
impaled myself on him. It was purposeful and heady when I rode him in slow 
motion, accentuating every up and down. It was powerful and loving when his 
orgasm spouted from him, gilded my pussy, and wrenched mine from me.

"God, I love you Maggie!"

My body shivered against Matt's in tiny aftershocks. He hugged me closer.

"I love you, too." In fact, I couldn't imagine ever being so close to another 
human being, save one.

"Matt? I whispered.

"Hmm?" His voice was mellow and poured from him like thick maple syrup.

"Let's go get our son."

"I was just thinking the same thing."

That night, three-month old Joey McKnight slept in his own house for the 
first time. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Matthew Joseph McKnight lay flat on his back, his tiny little arms flaccid at 
his sides. An IV tube extended out of his severed umbilical cord, secured 
with clear tape and suture thread. His right foot, no bigger than the first 
joint of one of my fingers, was wrapped in beige tape. A glow of red beneath 
the tape illuminated his entire foot, causing it to appear transparent. The 
nurse said this was a monitor that measured the oxygen in his blood. She had 
pointed to a machine somewhere on the counter, but I hadn't seen where she 
was pointing. I was too busy looking at my son.

He had three electrodes stuck to him that were only centimeters in diameter 
each, but together they almost covered his entire chest. They were connected 
to another machine that monitored his heart rate and breathing. And some how 
the IV in his belly monitored his blood pressure as it gave him a steady diet 
of glucose. He had a tube coming out of his mouth that connected him to a 
breathing machine. The nurse said the machine was doing all the breathing for 
him because his own lungs were still too immature. He had another tube 
inserted into his left nostril and a small stocking cap covering his head. I 
looked at him through the plastic box they called an isolette. According to 
the doctor, it would be his home for several weeks.

I couldn't make out his features, really. I kind of thought his nose looked 
like my husband, Matt's. But his long, delicate fingers were surely from my 
side of the family. Piano playing fingers, my mom would say. I stared at 
every inch that wasn't covered in some sort of wrap or tube, looking for 
identifiable characteristics. Occasionally his little body would jerk and all 
I wanted to do was hold him. But the rules didn't permit it. He was too 
fragile, too sick, and too little. But soon, they promised.

Even now wasn't soon enough. No one understood how much Matthew meant. No one 
understood how hard the decision was to have him. I wish Matt were here, he 
understood. But he had collapsed from exhaustion, and I'd sent him home to 
get some sleep. I looked around the room. There were thirty more isolettes 
just like Matthew's. A few other moms stared into their own plastic boxes. 
Yes, they understood how I felt. But that did nothing to ease my pain. 

I had decided to breastfeed, but he was too little. I was instructed to use a 
pump and save the breast milk in the freezer. They would feed it to Matthew 
through the tube that was going into his nose and down into his stomach.

My son, my poor little baby, was hooked up to so many machines and so very 
tiny. I tried not to cry. Crying blurred my vision and all I wanted to do was 
look at him. I wanted him to know how much his daddy and I loved him. He was 
our precious gift. Trying to keep my voice very soft so as not to 
over-stimulate him (as the nurse had warned), I softly sang:

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy, when skies are gray.
You'll never know dear, how much I love you. 
Please don't take my sunshine away."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Maggie? Maggie-honey, can you hear me?"

I was in a winter wonderland. Everything was white, not a dull white like old 
snow, but a fresh and clean, crystal white. Evergreens with heavily laden 
branches, like Christmas trees. There was a wall with a twinkle of glitter 
covering it. And a voice, a voice I recognized. What did it say?

 "Maggie?"

The voice said my name. Why? What did it want? I didn't want to open my eyes. 
They were heavy. They were heavy like the branches of evergreens. I wanted to 
sleep. I wanted to sleep in my winter wonderland. Ouch! My stomach hurt. Why 
did my stomach hurt? 

"Maggie-sunshine. It's Matt."

Oh! It's Matt. Shhh, honey, can't you see I'm in a wonderland? See how 
everything glitters? But my stomach hurts. Why does it hurt? It shouldn't 
hurt; the baby is there ... 

Instinctively I grabbed my stomach. Ouch! The baby, Oh! Wait! Of course, the 
baby, that's right. The placenta had torn away from my uterus, an emergency 
C-section. I'd already had the baby.

My eyes popped open.

"The baby?" My voice was raspy and my throat was dry. 

"He's alive Maggie. He's a boy!" Matt answered.

I tried to focus on Matt. He held my hand. He wore blue paper clothes and a 
paper hat over his head. I might have laughed except for his face. His eyes 
were swollen, and his normally perfect skin was blotchy. He sniffed as he 
brought his hand up to my cheek.

"It's a boy?"

"Oh Mag, you should see him. He's so little but he's got a ton of blonde 
hair. He's even got down-like hair on his shoulders and arms. It's so blonde 
it's almost white. He's beautiful, Maggie." Matt was teary-eyed as he spoke.

"Is he OK?"

"The doctor, he's a neonatoligist. He said he's critical, but there's a good 
chance he'll make it. He said lots of babies born this early make it these 
days." 

"He's critical?"

"But the doctor said he would be OK."

I burst into tears. Matt tried to "shhhhsh" me, but he was crying too. I had 
gone from being unsure about wanting a baby to being heartbroken at the 
thought of losing one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"C'mon, Maggie. You're not in labor. It's too soon. You can't be. It must be 
gas or something." Matt quipped.

"Oh, and when did you become the expert on what labor felt like?" I asked, 
holding my side as if that would make the pain subside.

"Maggie, you're only six and a half months."

"Matt, I'm telling you it's not gas. It feels like severe menstrual cramps, 
and it's happening every ten minutes or so."

"Every ten minutes or so? For how long?" Now Matt looked worried. Apparently, 
when you use a sentence with numbers in it, for a CPA, it all starts to make 
sense. Every ten minutes must have been the eye-opener.

"About two hours, I think."

"Two hours?" Matt exploded. "Why the hell did you wait so long to tell me?"

"Because I thought the same thing you did, it's too early, it can't be labor, 
it must be gas." I started to feel teary-eyed now. I knew it was hormones, 
but why did men do that? Why did they think when they suggested something 
rational that you hadn't thought it up as well? Did he honestly think I was 
stupid? He knew how much this whole pregnancy meant to me, to us. I told him 
as much.

"Matt, I didn't want to jump the gun, but now I'm scared. I know how 
important this is."

"I'm calling the doctor."

"I was going to, but the last time I was in the office, he told me from here 
on out if anything was wrong to go straight to the hospital."

"Did he suspect something was wrong?"

"He said it was what he told all his pregnant patients after six months."

"Well then, let's go. _NOW!_"

Matt's tone was brisk and it made my eyes burn again. He must have noticed, 
because his features softened and so did his tone.

"Ah, Maggie-honey, you know I'm just worried." He kissed my forehead and ran 
his fingers through my hair. The intimate gesture calmed my nerves a little 
and made me want to forgive him.

I hadn't packed anything for the hospital yet. Our childbirth classes were 
supposed to start next week so I hadn't even thought about it. I grabbed an 
overnight bag and threw in a clean pair of panties, a hairbrush, and bathing 
necessities. And we were off.

In the car, Matt was silent but kept looking over at me.

"Keep your eyes on the road, mister, or we'll never get there," I teased in 
an effort to relax us both.

"I'm watching, I'm watching!" Matt's hands were ashen from the grip he had on 
the steering wheel.

And then it dawned on me. "OH NO!" I cried.

"Oh god, what, Maggie, what?"

"I didn't shave my legs or anything."

"Shave?  That's what you're thinking about?"

I didn't want to think about anything else. I wanted this to be the normal 
drive to the hospital, the one that resulted in a healthy, bouncing baby. Not 
the one where a baby is born prematurely. I couldn't think about the stories 
I had heard about premature babies or about women who died in childbirth. 
Shaving was an easier topic to think about.

"Well heck Matt, you know how the hair on my legs get. It's like cactus 
needles with dry skin. It's grotesque."

"I'm sure they've seen worse Maggie. Besides I like your hair all cactus-y 
and your legs all dry. It makes me think of your cunt as an oasis."

Matt was trying to make me laugh now. He'd had time to think about what was 
going on. He always did that. He would react and then think. Sometimes it got 
to me, even when I wasn't hormonal. But most of the time it just gave me 
something to tease him about.

The contraction caught me while I was trying to answer. I ignored his comment 
and put my head back, trying to concentrate on the pain to get through it. We 
rode the rest of the way to the hospital like that: me with my head back, and 
Matt stealing glances at me every few seconds.

Luckily, the hospital was only twelve minutes away. Matt pulled up at the 
emergency door and an orderly helped me into a wheelchair. I told him I 
didn't need it, but he insisted.

They wheeled me quickly up to a room, had me strip and put on a hospital 
gown, and attached a fetal heart tone monitor around my waist. Within 
minutes, the nurse had her invading fingers up inside me to check how far 
along I was. I thought I should at least know her name before we became so 
intimate.

She pulled out her bloody fingers, whipped off her rubber gloves and washed 
her hands before saying anything. Her name was Polly. 

"Maggie, I'm calling Dr. Rothman to tell him what's going on. I'd say you're 
already six centimeters dilated. Which means you're going to have this baby 
tonight, and there's no way we can stop it."

"How? I haven't been laboring that long. It wasn't that long, it didn't even 
hurt that much, really." I could hear the pleading in my voice. 

"Sometimes these things happen. It's nobody's fault. Its just nature making 
its own way." Polly left the room.

Matt and I looked at each other. The fear rose up between us like burning 
incense.

"Matt, I really didn't wait too long, I followed Dr. Rothman's instructions." 
I was anxious to hear him agree with Polly that it wasn't my fault.

"Maggie," he started and then stopped. He sat on the edge of the bed, cupped 
my chin in his hands and then finished, "Baby, you did everything right. You 
did everything perfect."



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