Jen's Legacy.

The other part of her sensed, in the bioluminescent semi-darkness of his body, what was happening, feeling the sudden forces beginning to impel her with his sperm, jostling along on this journey within his body, soon to be transferred into hers, and she was being carried with them in a flood.

The speed picked up and she felt herself suddenly drenched again in seminal fluid, blasting into them from the side. That injection eased the congestion—the process had gone too far to be stopped—and then it was as though a rocket had been lit under her. She almost blacked out, as vigorous muscular contractions within him and along his penis... a continuing wave of them... propelled everything forward; her, with it all.

He came again, but this time where he should be; deep into her vagina, closer to the neck of the cervix this time, touching it, flexing it, opening it (that was why he was so big; to get this far into her for this delivery) giving easier access to the uterus where the fight for survival and supremacy would begin.

She was living these two lives; one, inside of his body, as she experienced that smooth but forceful journey, and the other, in real life, feeling him within her body.

In one moment, she was being carried along inside of his body by the pressure of his sperm, and in the other, she felt each pulse of his ejaculate flooding into her, to transfer all further responsibility for it to her, having fulfilled his role. He had delivered that one sperm that had to succeed where all others would fail. Royce would now come down from that momentary excitement while she could continue, for a while, on this new adventure.

She saw then, that 'one' sperm that she recognized, near the head of the pack, and fought her way over to it to watch what happened… a front-row-seat to conception.

She was swimming along this semi-dark cavern within her own body, following the flow of hundreds of thousands of sperm, each vibrating with potential life, ‘succeed or die’, assisted by her cervical mucus, also lubricating her, then, like a spaceship in a deep void, suddenly encountering another planet, a spherical membrane disappearing in all directions.

The ovum!

The sperm at the forefront of that assault, forced forward by those still being thrown into the battle behind them by Royce’s final ejaculatory pulses, threw themselves like kamikaze fighters at the resistant wall of the ovum, seeking a weakness, and a way in; demanding to be let in, then falling away in exhaustion to let others surge forward from the tens of thousands behind them to try their luck. The membrane resisted, held, needing a special trigger from just one of them, or from a succession of them.

Time and again that membrane resisted the onslaught then… it vibrated, pulsed, flexed, bent under the relentless attack of so many battalions. It weakened, and then failed, as one of those sperm—she knew which one it was—breached the wall first, and gained entry.

At that same moment—instantly, after only about a millisecond; no more than that—the membrane re-formed and closed again to shut all others out, but they did not give-up. 'Giving-up', was not in their lexicon, and they would continue fighting on, until all were dead.

At the same time as that miniature replica of her saw that transformation of that ovum, even as she watched, she felt a sharp pain, in real life. A momentary stab, for just an instant in time; causing a sharply indrawn breath, as lovers sometimes do at that moment of mutual release, as though she had consciousness of what was happening inside of her own uterus.

Claire knew then, that beyond all reason to doubt it, the dream had been real. This was the start of the Healey Dynasty within her body; not Jen’s body, though Jen had been instrumental in bringing it about, she was sure of that. Jen may even have selected that sperm for her; choosing DNA sequencing from them both to match, if possible, the makeup of that very first Claire that Jen had been carrying.

Between the two of them, cooperatively, they... she and Jen... had put the genealogy of things back where they should have been, albeit a few months later than had been originally started.

Royce kissed her, slowly coming down from that exhausting episode, recovering his wits and his breath, resting upon her, the perspiration standing out on his brow, but still pushing reflexively, not wanting to accept that it was now ended until the next time.

After a further few minutes, he became conscious of where he was, what he was doing, and slowly withdrew from her with a sigh.

She was amazed to see how much of him had been buried within her, and how much he had opened her up, as she had never been opened up before. She saw his sperm dribbling out of her, and more, leaking from him, to be soaked up by the fabric, and there was even a suggestion of blood, this time, to go along with it.

No big deal. It didn’t matter now, the magic had happened with that one sperm, and some collateral loss was be expected. It had taken only one sperm to be successful in that race to life, and that, had already happened. She had been present at the very moment of conception; had seen it happen. Felt it! She marked that date and time in her head. ‘Conception!’

She tasted success in so many ways.

Should she let Royce know what she knew? That she had just become pregnant with Jen’s help, and how she knew it; having observed it, though not understanding how that had been possible. Or would that be too much for anyone to believe?There would be too many questions. How did she know Jen, for one? Now was not the moment for that kind of discussion or disclosure.

She watched, scarce believing what she could see, as Royce pushed back into her again—no resistance this time, and it felt so good--holding her close, pushing into her, all of him, again, never wanting to leave her. It was much easier now that they had got that awkward, first time behind them, and she was still fully open to let him in without feeling any discomfort from his re-entry.

Now they could fulfill what that court had demanded of her; that they could now ‘fuck like ferrets’, or weasels, whenever the mood took them, and they would. However, having got the ‘procreation’ part behind them (she should not tell Royce about that), they could now embark on the ‘recreation’ part of it all and just enjoy loving each other, and being loved. It was all a part of being in love. It would be relatively easy from here. She had now truly captivated him to her. Having once tasted of a woman’s body in such a way, he was now hers to control, if she did it wisely.

When he next came out of her for just a moment, savoring what had at last happened between them, she sat up and put her legs apart, leaning forward to see the changes in herself, seeing that she had certainly been opened up, and not likely to close for minutes, or even longer after that item had been in her and taxing her every muscle, and would soon be into her again.

She could see how he had stretched her, finding then, that he leaned in to kiss her there as though to thank her and her vagina for letting him trespass a little more each time, until this last time, or to commiserate with her vagina for the punishment he had been for her. He then blocked her view of herself as he went into her again, pulling her close to him to sit across his legs. This was the way it would always be. She accepted that.

“I’m sorry for hurting you.” He was apologizing again.

Why was he sorry? He’d played little part in what had happened; she had done it for him. He began to notice her breasts again, touching them so gently and lovingly, leaning in to kiss them too.

“You didn’t hurt me, Royce. We should have done it that... way earlier.” He touched her gently down there to feel for himself, never tiring of touching her wherever, and whenever he now could, then leaned in to kiss her again.

They could now get on with their lives together.

They could not leave this place for an hour or two after that exertion, but would need to recover. Recovery would likely be many more episodes of ‘the hair of the dog that had bitten you’.

She would be awash with sperm by the time they left here, and she might even be able to hear it, feel it sloshing around inside of her as they walked, if she could hold onto it within her body for that long, and not lose it as she seemed prone to do.

Besides, It didn’t matter. There was always more where that came from, and Royce would want to do that again to her, often, and soon, now that he could. He would always want to be back into her body again and again for more, until he was too exhausted to think. Even then, he would still come back to her many times before they parted again just to be sure that it hadn’t been a dream, needing to be sure of that; just to check, again, then once more. She would accept that. It was what an eager lover would always want to do, never able to get enough of the woman he loved.

He must already know that this was no dream. This, was life, and living.