Chapter 8
There’s Got to be a Morning After
by knight_b_4@hotmail.com
Story codes: Mff, hum, les, rom, preg
Author’s Note:  This story involves sexual activity between a variety of people, some of whom are underage. If it is illegal in your jurisdiction to read about such things, please delete this story immediately. (And know that you have my sympathies for living in such a repressive atmosphere.) This story is entirely a work of fiction; none of the events described herein actually took place (at least not to the author’s knowledge). The author does not condone sexual activity with minors, although he does recommend most of the following if done with a consenting adult.
This story may be posted with no changes or deletions on a free site, or the free area of a commercial site. The work is copyright 2012 by the author, and all rights are reserved.
I had strange dreams all night, most of them involving Christie (and no, not all of those involved sex). I also had dreams about me, Christie and Lily (alright, all of those did involve sex, in some interesting combinations); about Christie and Lily and various faceless men with huge cocks (more sex, obviously); and even one really weird one about me, Christie and a baby who looked exactly like a 2-foot high version of me, down to wearing a miniature copy of the suit I’d had on the night before. But the really weird thing about that one was, he’d been wearing a bone-white half-face mask and an opera cape along with it.
Oddly enough, I still woke up feeling pretty rested, despite all the dreams and the “exercise” of the night before. I also woke up to a small hand slowly stroking my morning wood.
“Morning, Harry,” she chirped when my eyes fluttered open. “Look what I found waiting for me. Been dreaming about me?” (Christie’s a morning person, one of those who can be bright and chipper about two minutes after waking up. I normally consider homicide when faced with a person like that, but this was my sweet Christie, so I decided to let her live.)
“Of course I have,” I answered. “But I thought you weren’t into that kind of thing.”
“What, morning sex? Morning, noon or night, Harry, you know me,” she replied with a grin.
“No, not morning sex,” I said. “I thought you weren’t into piss games. ‘Cause that’s what we’re going to be playing in about a minute if you don’t let go of that and let me go to the bathroom.”
“Eww!” she said, releasing it instantly and recoiling. “Go, go. Quick.” She made shooing motions with her hand. I grinned, leaned in to give her a quick kiss (even Christie’s morning breath isn’t too bad) and headed down the hall. After bending at an angle so I didn’t spray the walls, I unloaded my bladder. I brushed my teeth quickly, ran a brush through my hair just enough to get rid of the worst tangles, then padded back down the hall to rejoin my darling in bed.
As I slid under the sheets, she noted that I’d wilted somewhat.
“Aw, doesn’t he want to play anymore? You must not’ve been thinking about me while you were gone.” She pretended to pout. On some girls, that looks stupid. On Christie, it was sexy. (Well, OK, I’ll admit it; to me, everything Christie does is sexy.)
“It always goes down after the pressure’s off,” I said. When she looked puzzled, I explained the concept of a piss hard-on; she was fascinated, having never heard of it.
“Well, it’s just me and Mom at home, so how would I know?” she said, defensively. “I mean, I’ve slept with a lot of guys, sure, but you’re the first one I’ve ever slept with, you know?” I felt somehow honored by that. “I liked it a lot, too,” she added shyly. “Cuddling up while you sleep is really nice. I didn’t know it could be that good.” And so saying, she moved back in and cuddled into me again. Her hand grabbed my semi-hard cock and started slowly stroking it again
“Best feeling in the world, cutie,” I agreed. “Especially when it’s someone you…” her hand stopped and I instantly switched gears “have developed an attachment to, even if she does have a strange aversion for one of the nicest words in the English language.” She didn’t resume, although she didn’t let go, either.
 “I’m sorry, Harry,” she said into my chest in a low voice. “It’s just… hard to explain, OK?”
“Whenever you’re ready, honey,” I said. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I’ll always listen to anything you want to tell me.” She sighed and started stroking again, still that same slow, languid stroke.
“What did I do to deserve you, Harry?”
“I don’t know, but it must’ve been pretty bad. In Tennessee, they’d probably throw you in jail for it.”
She snorted. “You’re silly.”
“You keep saying that, and yet you continue to hang out with me anyway. So what does that say about you?”
“Guess I’m silly too, then. A silly girl who likes hanging out with a silly guy who makes her feel extra special and wonderful.”
I hugged her tightly. “You make me feel pretty special and wonderful too. Can’t remember the last time I felt this wonderful.” I ran one finger down her cheek. “I word I can’t say you.”
She sighed, but kept stroking this time. “You’re a persistent man, Mr. Potter.”
“Only with someone who’s worth it, Mrs. Potter,” I replied, hastily adding, “If you still feel like being Mrs. Potter this morning, that is.” She nodded.
“Lots nicer than, ‘Now, what was your name again?’ ”
I chuckled. “Can’t imagine anyone forgetting you. Now then,” I said, “why don’t you slide up a little and let’s talk about this ‘morning sex’ thing you mentioned. Sounds like a fascinating concept.”
She slid up and kissed me, and I stroked my hand down her side and cupped her ass.
“You know, you have a really nice little butt,” I said, squeezing it.
“Thank you, sir,” she replied, grinning impishly. “I consider it one of my best assets.”
This time, I was the one who groaned. “Weren’t you complaining last night about bad puns?”
She giggled. “Paybacks are a bitch, Harry.”
I kissed her then. As you may have noticed, I kiss Christie a lot. If there was an Olympic event for kissing, Christie would bring home the gold, silver and bronze. She pays attention during a kiss, and puts as much enthusiasm into it as she does into her screwing. And Christie has a lot of enthusiasm.
I stroked her lower cheeks for a while at the same time as I kissed the upper ones, before caressing down her leg and squeezing that firm, muscular thigh. Her legs parted for me as I slid my hand between them and slowly caressed back up until I reached the heated junction between them.
As always, Christie was soaking; I don’t think that girl is ever dry. Running my finger along her slit brought a sigh to her lips and a slight tightening of her grip on my cock. I just slid up and down it for a while, stopping to press lightly on her clit about every second or third stroke. After teasing her for a while, I slipped two fingers into her pussy and started slowly moving them around inside, touching as many parts of her pussy as I could. With Junior pushing from one side and me probing from the other, I could even tickle her cervix. She liked that, he didn’t; every time I wiggled a finger against it, he’d start moving, which made Christie giggle.
“I think he’s trying to tell you to keep out of his space, Harry,” she said.
“Yeah, well he’d better remember he’s just renting that womb-” she groaned, half at the pun and half at what my fingers were doing to her- “and he’s got to come out and face me sometime.” I looked directly at her bulging belly. “And you better not be drawing on the walls, either, or you lose your security deposit.”
“Speaking of deposits,” she said, stroking my cock a little faster, “isn’t it about time you made one?”
“In a minute, dear, I’m playing with the kid.”
“Well, hurry up ‘cause I want you to play with me.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re such a demanding little wench.” I started rubbing my thumb on her clit; her breath caught.
“Well, I’m not the one who got the world’s best blowjob last night. I’m horny.”
“And when aren’t you, my little oversexed sweetheart?”
“For about five minutes after I’ve been fucked. Now make me unhorny. Please, kind sir?”
“As long as you teased me last night, you expect me to make it quick and easy for you?” I asked. “Like someone said, paybacks are a bitch.” I cackled evilly.
“Help me, Junior,” she said in mock terror. “Save your momma from your evil daddy.”
And she froze, eyes wide and a look of terror on her face. A deer caught in headlights looks as relaxed as a stoner on his third joint in comparison to Christie at that moment. I froze, too, but in surprise.
“Oh, God, Harry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…”
I pulled my hand from her pussy and put it over her mouth. (Good thing she likes her own taste.)
“Shhh, shhh, shhh, shhh” I said. I moved my hand and kissed her. (I like her taste, too.) I started stroking her slit again as I said, “That may be the sweetest slip of the tongue I’ve ever heard, darling Christie. I like the idea of helping raise Junior there.” I tickled her cervix and, true to form, Junior wiggled. “See, he likes the idea too.” Junior chose that moment to kick, hard enough to bring a “whoof” from Christie. “Or maybe not, but he’ll get used to it.”
That was enough to bring a small laugh, and make her relax a little, but she still looked upset.
“Harry, you don’t owe me anything, and I’m not trying to trap you or trick you, and I don’t expect…” Once again, I put my hand over her mouth.
“I know, honey, I know. But what if I want to? Would you let me?” I didn’t move my hand. “Don’t answer now. But think about it. I like being with you, and I like the idea of having you around more, lots more, all the time more even. I love you. I know that bothers you for some reason, but I don’t like having to dance around it, because it’s true. And if someone had told me a couple of weeks ago that I was going to meet a horny, pregnant underage little girl, fuck her and fall in love with her, I’d have told them they were nuts. But I did. Crazy as this whole thing has been, and is, and probably will be. I, Harry Potter, love you, Christie Moore, and you’re just gonna have to deal with it. Because you’d have to do something really, really awful to make me stop loving you, and I don’t think you have it in you to do anything that ugly. Not to me, not even to someone you really hated. And you don’t hate me, do you?” It was a statement, not a question.
She shook her head.
“You might even think I’m not too bad a guy, for an old fart, right?” Another statement; she smiled against my hand and nodded.
“Then let’s leave it at that for now. My loving you doesn’t depend on you loving me back, and I’m not asking you to, ‘cause for some reason, love seems to be hard for you. But it doesn’t matter. You have my heart, and it was a gift freely given, and I don’t want it back. Just be nice to it, OK?” She nodded again, eyes moist.
“Now, let’s stop all this jibber-jabber and get down to some serious lovemaking. ‘Cause that’s what it is now. We stopped fucking a couple days ago.” She nodded and smiled against my hand again, even though the tears were starting to roll down her cheeks. “OK. I’m going to move my hand now, and put it back in that hot juicy place of yours where it likes be, and you don’t have to say anything except maybe, ‘Oh yeah, do that again,’ OK?”
This time she shook her head, rolled her eyes down to look at my hand covering her mouth, and looked back up at me. I moved my hand.
“You’re not going to put your hand there, Harry,” she said, rolling me over onto my back, then moving to straddle me. “Because I want your cock there instead. And I want to make love to you, because fucking isn’t good enough for me anymore. I’m so fucking confused about things right now, I can’t think straight. But I know I want you around, more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I-” The tears continued flowing as she obviously struggled with herself. She put the head of my cock against her pussy and slowly lowered herself onto it. “I-” She squeezed me with her pussy muscles, otherwise not moving. “I-” Her internal struggle was obvious on her face, even through the tears.
“Aah!” she finally said, frustrated. “Why is this so god dammed hard?”
“Christie-”
“Shut up, you.” She poked one finger into my stomach. Taking a deep breath, she forced it out one word at a time, at great effort. “I-” slowly raising herself on my cock.
“love” slowly lowering herself and grinding her crotch into mine.
“you,” Slow up.
“too.” Slow down.
And with that, she started pumping up and down on my cock, and now both of us were crying. We were still crying a short time later when her pussy started spasming and my dick started squirting, and didn’t stop when she collapsed on top of me and rolled to the side, and we wrapped our arms around each other and held each other tightly for a long, long time.
Finally, tears dried and some sort of emotional order restored, we shared a last long lingering kiss.
“Hungry? I promised you waffles, if I remember right.”
“You sure did, and I could eat a dozen of ‘em, Harry. With maybe a couple more for Junior.”
“Guess that means we have to get up, huh?” She nodded.
“Yup. Doesn’t mean we can’t come back later, though.”
I grinned and hugged her. “My sweet insatiable darling, I unlike you am not capable of continuous nonstop cumming. Guys need a little something called ‘recovery time,’ which you’ve probably never heard of.”
She pulled another one of those cute fake pouts. “Gee, Harry, aren’t I sexy enough for you? Maybe I should get Lily over here to help out?”
“Good God, no,” I said in mock horror. “If I can’t keep up with you, Lily would kill me.” She grinned at that, and said, “Who said Lily was for you?” I kissed her again and got out of bed. I pulled a couple of robes out of the closet, and held the slightly smaller one out to her.
“Do I have to, Harry? I like being naked around you, it makes me feel sexy. Not horny sexy, but special sexy. Well, horny sexy too ‘cause you’re pretty hot, but mostly special sexy.”
“I certainly don’t mind.” I tossed both robes on the bed. “Let’s go get some breakfast.”
“Um,” she added, looking down at her oozing pussy as she stood up, “it might not be a bad idea to grab a towel for me to sit on.”
Hand in hand, with all our naughty bits hanging out, we walked down the hall and turned the corner into the living room. And I froze. If my heart didn’t stop, it at least paused for a moment.
The curtains were standing wide open. I hadn’t closed them before I left to pick up Christie yesterday, and curtains were the furthest thing from my mind when we got home. Anyone driving or walking by last night could’ve looked right in and seen me stripping my underage lover, or seen her standing there naked and rubbing herself while I went to light the candles. I just hoped all the neighbors had turned in early last night.
I gently pushed Christie back around the corner, telling her to wait there. Crouching and weaving behind furniture, probably looking like a soldier advancing across a battlefield, I made my way to the window and yanked the curtains closed. Christie laughed as she stepped into the living room.
“Ashamed of me already, Harry? Or just greedy and don’t want to share the view?” She thrust her tits forward and shook them at me. “Don’t you think the neighbors would like these?”
“Honey, the guy across the street is gay, and he’s probably the only one who wouldn’t. Although even Jim’d probably admit they were pretty nice ones.” She laughed at that. “There’s just that little matter of your age and prison.” She frowned at that.
“That’s one of the things that bothers me, Harry. You know I’ll never tell anyone, but I’m afraid I’ll somehow accidentally get you in trouble, and that scares me. I couldn’t stand it if you got locked up because of me.”
“Then we’ll just have to be extra special careful and discrete, won’t we? Because even the thought of prison and a roommate named Mad Dog isn’t enough to get me to give you up.”
“Oh, I don’t know. That has kind of a nice ring to it. ‘Harry Potter and the Gobbling of Mad Dog’s Fire.’ Could be a bestseller.” I mock glared at her over the top of my glasses.
“You, my dear, are a perverted little wench and a horrible punner.” She nodded. “That’s one- well, two- of the things I like about you, in fact.”
By now we were in the kitchen, and I was busily digging out bowls, mixer, griddle and some of the other things we’d need.
“Anything I can do to help, Harry?”
“There’s bacon in the fridge, if you want to get started on that while I mix the batter.”
We busied ourselves with breakfast preparations, chatting the while about whatever came to mind. Christie moved confidently around the kitchen, setting up the griddle and frying the bacon just right, setting the table, slicing up a grapefruit she found in the refrigerator’s fruit drawer. When I commented on that, she said that her mother had pretty much quit cooking as soon as Christie was tall enough to see over the stove, so she was used to it. It was just as well, too, since her mother was a pretty poor cook, “one of those people who can screw up oatmeal, you know?”
As I mixed up the waffle batter, I showed her what I put into it although I couldn’t give her measurements. I’m one of those cooks who tosses “about that much, or a little more if you want” into the mix. When I was done, Christie grinned at me.
“Looks like it’ll be really good, Harry. Are you going to kill me now or do I get to eat one first?”
“Tell you what. Since you’re Mrs. Potter for the day, I guess that’s close enough to being married, so I’ll let you live. At least until you come up with another horrible pun.” She kissed me then.
“Good. I hate being killed so early in the day, especially before I’ve eaten.” She grinned wickedly then, and grabbed my dick. “Unless of course you’d like to be eaten.”
“Always, as long as it’s you, but I think we’d burn the waffles. And besides, you’d better give it a little rest if you want it to be ready for later.”
“Later? Got something in mind for later, Harry?” She started stroking me and I started getting hard, despite all the really great sex I’d had in the last 24- no, I thought, looking at the clock, 12- hours.
“Yes. Living to enjoy a sunset with you for one thing,” I said, and gently pulled myself away. “Or does your mother expect you home before that?” Her face clouded slightly, but she forced a smile onto her face.
“Nope, not a problem, Harry.” She turned back to the bacon and didn’t say anything more for a while.
I greased the waffle iron and poured in some batter, troubled. Another secret she was keeping from me, I guessed. I hoped she’d start opening up more than her legs to me soon. Whatever things she was keeping inside, and I suspected there were a number of them, were painful, and shared pain was more than halved. I didn’t want my darling hurting, and I’d take on any amount of her pain to make her feel better.
I turned the oven on low and pulled a baking sheet out of the cupboard, spreading some paper towels on one end. I walked over and kissed Christie on the neck as I brought the sheet around in front of her.
“Put the bacon on this, and we’ll stick it in the oven to keep warm while the waffles are cooking.”
“Good plan. How much longer? You’re starving me to death, you mean man.”
“Oh, the impatience of youth. Why, when I was your age, we had to wait while Mom cooked waffles one at a time over a campfire and we had to poke the holes in ‘em ourselves. And if we wanted bacon, we had to be able to run fast enough to catch the pig.”
“They had waffles when you were a kid, Harry?” she teased. “Didn’t the smell of ‘em cooking attract the dinosaurs?” I started tickling her then, and she squealed, and we spent a delightful few minutes chasing around the kitchen and laughing.
By that time, of course, the first waffle was burned. Neither of us really cared, and I dumped it in the trash and poured in more batter. I pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat. Christie, after checking the bacon, came and sat in my lap. With her warm firm butt planted on me, my cock expressed the opinion that another burned waffle wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I reminded it that we were now out of vanilla so I couldn’t make another batch of batter, but it said “so what?” and continued hardening anyway.
Christie noticed, of course. Hard not to when the head was nestled against her pussy, and started spreading her lips as it stiffened.
“I thought you said we had to wait, Harry,” she said, wiggling around. “Doesn’t feel like you want to wait.” She shivered as my cock head brushed against her opening. “Never had one go in while it was getting hard before.” She lifted herself slightly and tried positioning it so it would do just that, but I put my hands under her butt and pushed her the rest of the way off my lap.
“Much as I hate to do that,” I said (while my cock yelled “Then don’t! C’mon!”), “we do have to eat some time. Food,” I added as Christie opened her mouth. She grinned.
“You’re no fun, Harry. Actually,” she bent down and kissed the helmet, “you’re a lot of fun, but I’ll behave. For now.”
I had to stand sideways while I took the waffle out and poured in batter for the next one. I put it on a plate and asked Christie if she wanted to get started.
“No, that’s OK. I’ll wait so we can eat together.” She took the plate from me and added the waffle and the last of the bacon to the cookie sheet, then put it back in the oven. “Got a grease can, so I can drain this?”
“Under the sink on the right. Hot pads are in the drawer under the microwave.”
She bent over to get the grease can, exposing glistening moist folds bordered by two perfect hemispheres and the contours of her luscious legs. My cock throbbed and screamed at me to get over there and stick it in NOW! but I settled for stepping up behind her and sliding one finger along her slit instead.
“Ooo!” Christie squeaked, narrowly missing banging her head on the counter edge as she shot upright. “Harry! Make up your mind.” She set the grease can on the counter and reached for me, but I stepped back with a grin.
“Breakfast first, dear. But sometimes you’re just too sexy to resist.”
“So who wants you to resist?” She blew me a kiss, turned and wiggled her butt at me, then picked up the grease can, grabbed a hot pad and went to take care of the griddle.
Finally, after some more screwing around but no actual screwing, and some “accidental” brushes along sensitive areas as we passed, we sat down to eat. Christie put away five waffles, most of the bacon, her half of the grapefruit, a glass of milk, and two glasses of orange juice. I watched in amazement as she stuffed all this into that small frame of hers. Maybe she wasn’t pregnant after all; she was a human camel, and that was the hump where she stored her food.
When I told her that, she almost snorted milk through her nose. (OK, I did that deliberately; I could have waited until she swallowed, but I was feeling evil.)
“You trying to choke me, you bastard?” she said, trying to cough and laugh at the same time. “I am not a camel, although I’ll admit I like to hump. Wanna hump me now, Harry?”
“How about we let breakfast settle a little first,” I said, sipping my coffee.
“Oh, alright,” she said, pretending to pout. “Recovery time, food settling. Geez. What’s a girl got to do to get laid around here?”
“Just be her sweet sexy self,” I said, blowing her a kiss. “That’s what happens when you get hooked up with an old guy.”
“Didn’t seem so old when I was sitting on your lap a little while ago. What do you think, Junior,” she asked, patting her stomach, “should we get this old guy some Viagra so he can keep up with Mommy?”
“You know,” I said, “I’ve noticed you keep calling it ‘Junior’ and ‘him’. Are you sure it’s a boy? Did the ultrasound tell you that?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t had an ultrasound. But I’ve known since about two months along that it’s a boy.”
“How can you be sure?”
She shrugged. “I dunno, I just am. Lily’s mother said she was the same way. She knew before the doctors told her that Lily and her sister were girls, and her little brother was a boy. She says some women just know. Guess I’m one of ‘em.”
“Do Lily’s parents know about her, um, habits?” I asked. Christie laughed.
“Kinda hard to miss, Harry. Lily’s never heard the word ‘subtle.’ They aren’t really happy about it, but they’ve had her to doctors, therapists, ministers, all that happy horseshit, and they’ve finally just accepted that Lily’s a horny little slut and they’re never going to change her. But they love her lots, and don’t give her too hard a time about it. Just keep worrying about her and warning her to be careful.”
“Sound like good people. You spend a lot of time over there, I take it?”
“Her Dad calls me his third daughter,” she said, grinning.
“I think I’d like to meet them someday.”
“They’re great, Harry. You’d like ‘em and I bet they’d like you, too. Mom2’s been going to rummage sales and digging through old stuff in the basement and talking to other women at their church, and she’s got a shit ton of baby stuff for whenever Junior finally decides to pop out.”
“What’s your Mom think about having a grandson?”
Christie’s face tightened, and I knew it had been the wrong thing to ask.
“Never mind, not important. Forget I said anything.”
She looked at me for a while, face unreadable but her eyes scanned my face like she was trying to memorize every line and detail of it. Finally, in a low voice, she spoke.
“OK, Harry. Maybe it’s time for you to hear some things about me. And not that bullshit I fed you when you took me to Murray’s the first time.”
“I want to know all about you, Christie,” I said, reaching across to take her hand, but she sat back and pulled hers out of reach. “But only if and when you want to tell me. You don’t have to do it now.”
She shrugged, that strange look still on her face. “I think…” She stopped, took a deep breath, and went on. “I think if I don’t do it now, it’ll just be harder later. Maybe I won’t even be able to later. So fasten your seat belt, Harry, you’re in for a bumpy ride.” (Christie watches too many old movies.)