by slick_chick


I am living proof that, no matter how cautious and careful one tries to be with one’s sex life, “accidents” can–and do–happen. That’s what this story is all about.

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Fertilization Happens
by slick_chick

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This story is all about three separate sexual intercourse “accidents” that took place over the course of nearly two decades, while I was having an on-going intimate relationship with Ray (not his real name), who was my live-in boyfriend for many years, before he became my husband.

That first sexual intercourse accident didn’t get me pregnant, but it sure scared the hell out of me and Ray both! It also led to an incredibly exciting day of sex for both of us, and forced us to rethink our whole birth control strategy.

However, our second accident resulted in my first-ever pregnancy, which of course, scared me and Ray even more than that first accident did. Let’s just say that this second accident dumped a bunch of unnecessary stress onto our plates, and made our already-stressful lives a living hell for quite a while.

And our third accident, which took place many years later, caused me to get pregnant for the second–and final–time in my life. But this time, due to the life-circumstances surrounding it, both Ray and I weren’t upset about this second pregnancy at all, even though it was totally unplanned, just like my first pregnancy was.

Our First “Accident” – Condoms Can Break

In my story “Freddy in the Bathroom: Virginity Rubbed Away,” I made the statement that “there’s nothing more erotic and exciting to me than taking a chance on the possibility of getting pregnant–which is exactly what we women do each and every time that we have sexual intercourse with a guy (during our pre-menopausal years, that is), because as far as I know, there is still no non-permanent birth control method that is 100% effective at preventing pregnancy. I mean, even perfectly good condoms can break from time to time.”

And when it comes to the subject of “condoms breaking,” I know exactly what I’m talking about.

The very first time that Ray ever fucked me, he surprise-fucked me from behind while wearing a condom. And everything had gone just fine. The condom–or “rubber,” as Ray and I preferred to call it–did its job, and kept my lover’s semen neatly confined inside the reservoir tip of the condom, just like it was designed to do.

So Ray and I continued to use rubbers as our only method of birth control. And the second time that we ever fucked, turned out just like the first time. There were no problems whatsoever, and the rubber did its job.

However, the third time that Ray and I ever had sexual intercourse together, things took an unexpected turn, leaving us both in a very sticky situation (pun intended)–and one which I’m sure that many of you have had to deal with in your own lives.

Here’s what happened that fateful day:

Ray and I were “doing it” at Ray’s mother’s house, late one afternoon. And while we were in his mother’s bedroom, humping away missionary style on top of her queen size bed, Ray just happened to mention to me that my pussy felt unusually good to him. And I responded back to him that his dick felt really great to my pussy too. And we both simply continued humping away, enjoying the intercourse, and not really giving much thought to what we had just said to one another.

I realize that it might seem strange to you that Ray and I chose to fuck on top of his own mother’s bed that afternoon. However, what you need to realize is that this was Ray’s way of secretly getting back at his mother for her post-menopausal, supposedly religion-based, prudish sexual attitudes and behaviors that had eventually led to Ray’s father moving out of the house, and later getting a divorce.

And of course, Ray loved his father very much. And so did I. Ray’s father was a truly wonderful man in every way! All I can say is that it must have been extremely hard for Ray’s dad to try to stay married for all those years to a woman who steadfastly refused to have sex with him.

At any rate, that’s how Ray and I had ended up fucking on top of his mother’s bed that afternoon. And at some point, Ray pressed his dick all the way up inside me, as far as he could get it. And then he just held it there and ejaculated, while bicycling his legs and rocking his hips from side-to-side (just for the record, Ray and I have always preferred deep sperm ejaculations during intercourse).

And that’s when I first realized that something was definitely “wrong.” I could feel the back pocket of my vagina quickly getting sopping-wet. And I instantly knew that it wasn’t my own “wetness.” It was Ray’s.

The strangest part about all this, was that I didn’t get scared or freaked out by what was happening. Instead, I was already so turned-on during our intercourse, that the thought that I might actually have Ray’s sperm deep inside of my vagina for the very first time ever, sexually excited me to the point that I ended up spontaneously orgasming, right along with Ray. In fact, I orgasmed my butt off so hard that I nearly lost consciousness.

A little while after Ray had finished unloading his whole wad of sperm deep inside of my vagina, I finally came back down to earth enough to tell him, “Honey, I think we’ve got a problem. I’m pretty sure the rubber broke.”

“Oh shit! God damn it! I just knew your pussy was feeling too good to me,” Ray emphatically remarked, as he eased his dick out of my pussy.

Ray and I were both horrified when we saw what was left of the condom. It was now a torn and tattered, scrunched-up rubber ring that was wrapped around Ray’s wet dick-shaft, about halfway down the length of it.

After we both got over the initial shock, regarding what had just happened–and as we both witnessed Ray’s gooey semen slowly oozing out of my possibly-fertile baby-making hole–Ray and I just sat there on the bed and talked for several minutes, discussing the possible ramifications of our first-ever intercourse accident.

And during our conversation, I couldn’t help but reach down between my own legs, so that I could touch and feel and visually examine the little globs of sperm that just kept leaking out of my fuck-hole.

And, I know that this may sound weird, but I eventually talked Ray into going ahead and fucking me again, if he wanted to.

I basically told Ray that “the damage” had already been done, and that there was nothing that we could do now to stop me from getting pregnant, if that was what was meant to happen (by the way, this was a true statement on my part, because morning-after emergency contraceptives, like Plan B One-Step, didn’t exist back then).

And I convinced Ray that we might as well take advantage of this bad situation that we were in, and at least go ahead and enjoy fucking “au naturel” for the first time ever.

Ray agreed with me. So he pulled what was left of the torn rubber off of his slick dick. And I played with his dick to get it rock-hard again, which didn’t take very long at all to happen.

Then Ray mounted me and began fucking me missionary style, enthusiastically humping away at my pussy, just about as fast as he could go.

And a couple of minutes later, Ray fertilized my totally-unprotected pussy for the second time that afternoon. But this time, he did it on purpose, instead of by accident.

After Ray pulled out of me, we spent some time passionately kissing and hugging each other, which was something that we normally tended to do. And while I was French-kissing Ray, I also had my hand down in his crotch. And I was playfully feeling out and playing with his wet, still-partially-erect dick and his sexy balls.

And before too long, I began pumping up and down on Ray’s dick-shaft with my hand. That was my way of letting him know that I wanted him to fuck me again, without me having to actually say that to him.

At the time, I couldn’t believe that I was still feeling so horny, after I had already been fucked and fertilized twice by Ray. But looking back on it all now, my extreme level of horniness makes perfect sense me. After all, it’s not every day that a heterosexual woman will decide to throw all caution to the wind, and risk allowing her lover to fuck her possibly-fertile pussy “au naturel.”

Much to my dismay, as I kept hand-pumping up and down on Ray’s penis, it just kept getting softer and smaller, until Ray finally lost his erection completely. And I realized that once Ray’s erection was gone, there was a good chance that he might lose interest in continuing to have sex with me. After all, he had already fucked me twice.

Desperate times usually call for desperate measures. So when Ray announced to me that he needed to go to the bathroom, and started to get up out of the bed, I knew that I had to do something to try to keep his mind focused on having sex with me.

So I said, “Wait a minute, buster! Ladies always go first.” And I sprang out of bed, and made a quick dash for the bedroom doorway.

“Like hell they do!” Ray quipped back, and pretend-raced me to the bathroom, which was just down the small hallway that connected the three bedrooms at Ray’s mother’s house. Naturally, Ray let me “win,” being the true gentleman that he is.

And right after I entered the bathroom, I threw up the toilet lid, plopped my butt down onto the seat ring, spread my legs apart and began peeing into the toilet bowl.

The reason why I spread my legs pretty far apart was that, this time, I wanted Ray to watch me pee.

Normally, I preferred to do my “bathroom business” in private. But I knew that watching women urinate had always been a big turn-on for Ray. And it seemed like Ray would always try to find an excuse to justify him being in the bathroom with me, whenever I was urinating.

As soon as I had plopped myself down on the toilet seat, Ray came into the bathroom and stood right in front of me. And he stared at my hairy, pissing pussy for a few seconds.

Then Ray surprised me when he all of the sudden began peeing right along with me, and aiming his urine stream, so that it was falling into the toilet bowl, right between my spread-apart thighs. And that took a lot of skill on Ray’s part, because there was only a couple of inches of space between the insides of my thighs and the front of the toilet seat ring.

“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t hold it any longer,” he explained to me, making a gesture towards his dick.

“Hey, be careful with that ‘thing’! You’re gonna pee all over me,” I warned him.

“You mean, like this?” Ray asked sarcastically. And then he intentionally and playfully shifted his dick ever so slightly upward for about 4 or 5 seconds to re-aim his urine stream, so that his warm urine was splashing up against the thick pubic hair at the front of my crotch, and dripping down my pussy to the toilet bowl below.

“God, you’re such a naughty boy! What am I gonna do with you?” I teased, as I continued to pee, with my urine spraying out into the water below.

“I don’t know. But when we’re done taking a piss, we can discuss it,” Ray said, pretending to act all macho.

“Oh yeah? Well I’m just about done. So let’s talk about it,” I said, as I released the last few spurts of urine out of my bladder. I didn’t pee for very long, because I really didn’t have to “go” that badly. But Ray obviously did, because he was still peeing full-force between my legs into the toilet bowl.

As soon as Ray was finally finished urinating, I didn’t grab some toilet paper and wipe off my pussy, like I normally would have done.

Instead, I leaned forward, without getting up off the toilet seat, and I caught Ray totally by surprise, when I swooped down onto his non-erect penis with my mouth, so that I could begin sucking on his dick-head, and licking it like a big lollipop.

Show me a man who says he doesn’t like getting a blowjob, and I’ll show you a liar. All I know is that Ray absolutely loves getting his dick sucked. And I figured that this was probably the best way for me to try to quickly excite him, and give him another boner, so that he could fuck me again, like I was wanting him to do.

And miraculously (sarcasm intended), Ray’s penis started getting larger and firmer by the second.

And once Ray’s dick had “grown” to the point that it was almost fully-erect, I pulled my mouth off of it, stood up from the toilet seat, and embraced Ray, giving him a juicy French-kiss. While we were kissing, I reach down and grabbed the shaft of his dick and guided the head of it into the front of my urine-soaked pussy crack. And I began rubbing his dick-head back and forth against my clit and the front part of my crack.

Then I whispered in Ray’s ear, “Babe, I’m still so horny, I can’t stand it. Would you please fuck me one more time?”

“Of course, I will,” Ray replied, whispering back in my ear.

“On top of your mother’s bed?”

“Sure, babe. If that’s what you want,” said Ray.

“Without using a rubber?” I whispered in his ear, as sexy as I could.

Ray immediately pulled back his head and looked me straight in the eye, as he asked me, “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“Yeah, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah. But–”

“No ‘but’s!” I interrupted. “I’m really not in the mood for excuses right now, Ray. I just need you to squirt your sperm inside me one more time, and we’ll call it a day, okay? Deal?” I said, hoping that I had just made Ray an offer that he couldn’t refuse.

“Sure, babe. Whatever you want. You know I love you,” Ray replied, as he took me by the hand, and led me back to his mother’s bedroom, where we both got back on top of her bed.

I rolled over onto my back, spread my legs far apart, and pulled my pussy crack wide-open with my hands to make it easy for Ray to mount me.

As Ray was kneeling between my spread-apart thighs, playfully rubbing the head of his dick against my clitoris and getting ready to mount me, he told me, “Now don’t blame me, if I get you pregnant. Because you’re the one who asked for it.”

“But how do you know that I’m not already pregnant?” I asked coyly, as I felt Ray’s dick start sliding up into my baby-making hole.

“I don’t. But neither do you,” Ray said, and then began slowly thrusting his dick inside me.

“Yeah, you’re right. And that’s the part that turns me on the most,” I honestly admitted out loud to Ray. “It’s too bad we can’t fuck like this all the time. God, your dick feels so good inside me! I hate those stupid rubbers!”

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean,” Ray quickly agreed.

And then we both stopped talking to one another, and we got right down to the serious business of trying to make a baby–while, at the same time, hoping and praying deep down inside, that we would fail in the end. Let’s face it, a baby was the last thing that either of us wanted, or needed, at this point in our young lives.

Well, they say the third time’s the charm. And in my case, it definitely was. Ray fucked the crap out of me, relentlessly humping away at my pussy for what must have been at least 15 to 20 minutes or more (it seemed to me that he really had to struggle to achieve that third orgasm of his), before he finally pumped out yet another load of his semen directly into the back pocket of my already-sticky and gooey baby-making hole.

And throughout the whole time that this third “charmed intercourse” was taking place, I just kept cumming, and cumming, and cumming, and cumming. It was like being the Energizer Fuck-Bunny. I had never orgasmed so much in such a short period of time during my entire life.

In fact, I didn’t realize it at first, but I was actually orgasming too much (yes, believe it or not, there is such a thing). About two-thirds of the way into our super-energetic and hopefully-unsuccessful baby-making attempt, this experience turned into a classic “be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it” type of situation for me, when my orgasms all of the sudden quit feeling pleasurable to me, and started to actually become painful, with each successive orgasm being just a little more painful than the previous one. And they wouldn’t let up. My unbroken string of strong, intercourse-induced orgasms just kept on taking place, one right after another, like clockwork.

As Ray kept pounding away at my pussy with his dick, I started begging and pleading with him to go ahead and cum inside me. I just wanted for our intercourse to come to a quick end, so that I could finally stop orgasming, and give my pussy-muscles a much-needed rest.

But Ray was “a man on a mission.” He was bound and determined to fertilize my pussy one more time. And unfortunately, his dick and balls didn’t seem to be cooperating with him very well, despite my numerous pleas for him to go ahead and shoot his wad inside me as soon as possible.

Eventually, I found myself getting desperate and saying things to him like, “God damn it, Ray! Cum inside me right now, you son of a bitch! Give me your sperm, damn it! What the fuck are you waiting for?”

But Ray just kept on humping away on auto-pilot, without saying a word to me.

By the time that Ray finally did manage to build up to that third orgasm of his, so that he could cum inside me and bring an end to his relentless pussy-thrusting, I was literally in tears, whimpering and sobbing like a baby–and even crying out uncontrollably during my increasingly-painful orgasmic peaks–all the while feeling like I had bitten off much more than I could chew.

After Ray’s penis had finally softened up enough to fall out of my vagina, all on its own, Ray and I just lay there in each other’s arms, totally spent.

I definitely wasn’t feeling horny any more. Also, my whole pussy felt pretty sore.

Of course, I shared that last observation with Ray, and he told me that his dick felt raw and sore to him too.

Ray also reminded me that it was getting late, and that his mother would be coming home from work soon.

Fear is a great motivator. And it definitely helped Ray and me to somehow muster up enough strength to climb out of his mother’s bed, and clean up after ourselves.

As soon as I finally stood up and started walking around, I instantly turned into that girl who we have all heard about, at one time or another. You know? That girl who got fucked so hard, that she could barely walk afterwards? Well, that was me. I was literally walking around bow-legged, and moving my legs at a snail’s pace.

By the way, it was a good thing that we had removed the bedspread and the top sheet from Ray’s mother’s bed first, before we had started having sex that afternoon, because we ended up leaving so many large wet spots on the fitted sheet, that it was pretty much soaked with our combined sexual juices.

I mentioned to Ray that it would probably be best if I changed out the sheets on his mother’s bed for clean ones. So that’s exactly what I did, before we left the bedroom, to go on about our normal business.

Later that same evening, while I was standing up at the kitchen counter top, preparing some dinner for both of us, Ray quietly snuck up on me from behind. He put his arms around my waist, and scared the crap out of me, which made me jump and let out a little scream. Ray and I laughed together for a few moments.

And then Ray moved his hands down around the sides of my hips, and he pulled my butt up against his crotch, as he whispered in my ear, “Babe, I’m feeling so horny right now. Would it be okay with you if we fuck one more time? I mean, without using a rubber? I’m ready to take ‘the big gamble’ again, if you are.”

I could feel the firm erection bulge at the front of Ray’s pants pressing up into the crack of my pants-covered buttocks. And without even thinking, I immediately replied, “Sure. Let’s do it.”

But then I thought for a moment about what I had just said, and I felt that I needed to further explain myself to Ray. So I told him, “But we can’t just keep on fucking like this, without using any birth control. I really don’t wanna get pregnant right now. And I know you don’t want me to get pregnant either. So tonight has got to be the very last time, okay? Promise me, Ray.”

“I promise you, babe. Tonight will be the very last time. And I won’t ever ask you to do this again,” Ray assured me, as he reached down into my crotch with his right hand, and teasingly pressed his finger into–and along the crack of–my camel toe. And while he was doing that, he began placing a series of gentle kisses all the way up and down the side of my neck, just under my ear.

“Mmmmmmmmm…,” I couldn’t help but moan out loud, in response to Ray’s tender kisses and his adept finger-massage of the crack of my clothed camel toe. “Oh God, Ray! I must be crazy! I can’t believe I just agreed to let you put more sperm in my pussy.”

“Hey, if you don’t really want me to do that,” said Ray, “I could put a rubber on first, you know. And then hope that it doesn’t break.”

“Don’t you dare back out now, Ray! God damn it!” I scolded him. “You’re the one who just said that you wanted to take ‘the big gamble’ one more time. And now that you’ve gotten my pussy all wet, you’d better take me in the bedroom and fuck me right now, before I come to my senses and change my mind.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ray sarcastically replied, as he took me by the hand and led me into our bedroom.

We both stood in front of each other and immediately took off all of our clothes, tossing the various pieces of our clothing out from our bodies, and letting them fall all over the carpet.

It really turned me on when Ray took off his pants and underwear, and I saw that his light-skinned Scotch-Irish dick was already standing at full-attention, and ready for my pussy. And of course, my hairy Latina “panocha” (pussy) was already wet, and ready for Ray’s dick too.

That meant that Ray and I could skip the foreplay part altogether (which is something that we rarely ever did), and get right down to business. And that was a good thing in this case, because Ray’s dick and my pussy were pretty raw and sore from this afternoon’s unexpected “fuck-fest triple-header.”

So I climbed into bed, and positioned myself on my back, with my legs spread apart.

Ray got into bed, kneeling between my spread-legs, and mounted me in a missionary style position, sinking his dick all the way up to the hilt, in one smooth long thrust, before just stopping dead-still and leaving his dick in place.

Then Ray whispered in my ear, “You know that this is the very last time that my dick is ever gonna be inside your pussy, without us using any birth control. Now, I don’t know about you, but that thought really turns me on a lot!”

“Hey, it really turns me on a lot too!” I honestly answered.

“Good, because I want us to try and fuck in a very special way right now. I’m not gonna hump your pussy at all. My dick’s just too sore for that.

“Instead, I want us to both just lie very still, and close our eyes and fantasize, until we finally ‘think ourselves’ to an orgasm. Do you think you can do that?”

“I don’t know,” I honestly replied, “But I’ll give it a hell of a try. Just for you, babe. And for my sore pussy too.”

To be honest with you, Ray’s suggestion sounded kind of crazy to me at the time. But it also sounded like an intriguing challenge, to say the least. So I was eager to give it try, if for no other reason than to see if I really could “think myself” to an orgasm.

And although it did take me a while to initially build up my sexual excitement enough, it turned out that I actually could“think myself” to an orgasm.

(Looking back on everything now, I don’t really know why I was so surprised by the fact that I had the ability to “think myself” to an orgasm, because I knew that sex researchers had always claimed that sex is actually 90% mental and only about 10% physical.)

In fact, while Ray was coupled-up with me, I managed to keep myself at such a high level of mental sexual excitement, that I was able to make myself cum more than once.

And Ray eventually ended up making his fourth deposit into the back vault of my vaginal sperm bank that day, without him ever having to thrust his penis in and out of my sore vagina at all.

Ironically, that turned out to be one of the most intense and erotic sexual experiences that Ray and I had ever shared together, up until that time.

Well, the good news was that my menstrual period finally came about a week or so after our day-long “intercourse marathon” took place. Naturally, Ray and I both let out big sighs of relief, and we vowed that we would never put ourselves in that perilous position again.

So we kept trying different methods–and combinations of methods–of over-the-counter and prescription birth control.

At first, I went down to the local women’s clinic and got a prescription for birth control foam. Originally, Ray and I were intending to use just a spermicidal foam or a cream–and nothing else–as our only form of birth control.

However, the doctor at the clinic advised us not to do that, saying that the foams and creams, when used by themselves, weren’t that reliable; and that the effectiveness was greatly increased by using condoms along with the spermicidal foam (which the doctor claimed had a better pregnancy prevention rate than a spermicidal cream did).

And it was a very good thing that Ray and I took the doctor’s advice, and that we were using the spermicidal foam along with the condoms, because it didn’t take long at all for us to discover that Ray tended to break through the condoms (about once every two or three times that we fucked), despite the fact that he would always make sure that the condoms were put on his erect penis correctly, so that there was plenty of room (about an inch of space) between the very tip of his dick and the reservoir tip of the condom.

In other words, Ray never had the condom pulled all the way down his dick, until the much smaller “nipple” at the very tip of the condom was pulled right up against his piss-hole slit, and sticking straight out from the tip of his dick. I know this for a fact, because most of the time, I was the one who put the condoms on Ray’s erect penis, right before we would couple up and start fucking.

Ray and I continued to use condoms (in conjunction with spermicidal foam) for about 3 or 4 more weeks, until we both agreed that we really didn’t like this particular birth control method at all.

The condoms kept breaking–no matter which brand or style that we bought–making them totally undependable, as far as we were concerned. Not only that, but for both of us, condoms also took away that wonderful feeling that came from having Ray’s bare dick in direct contact with my bare pussy during intercourse.

I went back down to the local women’s clinic, and told the doctor about my on-going condom-breakage problem, and the doctor suggested that I should try using a diaphragm, instead of condoms. So I got fitted for one. And the doctor showed me how to use it, and how to check it for leaks, and so forth.

Over the next week or two, Ray and I used the diaphragm in conjunction with spermicidal foam every time that we fucked. And just like our bad experience with using rubbers, the diaphragm also quickly turned out to be a total failure for us.

First of all, it was very difficult for me to try to get the diaphragm situated properly, due to my deeply-positioned cervix, as well as the sharply-downward-and-backward angle of my cervix in relation to angle of my vagina. In fact, Ray had to put the diaphragm in for me, because no matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t manage to get it positioned properly inside me.

And then once Ray and I would begin to have intercourse, the diaphragm simply would not stay in place. Any time that Ray was humping away at me, that stupid diaphragm would slip out of position and slide down my vagina ever-so-slowly (along the topside of Ray’s dick-shaft, if we happened to be in our usual missionary style position). And then ironically, the diaphragm would eventually stop sliding–but not until it had already worked its way just far enough down my vagina to leave the neck of my uterus (my entire cervix) totally exposed to the head of Ray’s dick, and to its inevitable payload of baby-making seed.

So, as far as Ray and I were concerned, that damn diaphragm worked even worse than the condoms had. But Ray and I just couldn’t bring ourselves to go back to using rubbers again, because frankly, we had gotten spoiled to the wonderful feeling of having our two bare genitals in direct contact with each other during intercourse. And so one day, Ray and I both decided to quit trying to use that stupid diaphragm that wouldn’t stay in place, and to just keep using the spermicidal foam by itself, as our only method of birth control. And that’s exactly what we did for the next few weeks.

But of course, vaginal foam was extremely messy, and had to be inserted deep into my vagina right before intercourse began, in order for it to be as effective as possible. Although Ray and I would incorporate the insertion of the spermicidal foam into my vagina as part of our foreplay, it never felt comfortable for either of us (for various reasons that I’m not going to elaborate on here).

Ray and I were also well aware that we couldn’t continue using the foam as our sole method of birth control for too long of a time, because the odds would eventually catch up with us at some point, and I would end up getting pregnant. Not only that, but my supply of spermicidal foam that the clinic had given me was nearly used up.

So I finally went to back down to the local women’s clinic, and I got on The Pill. And everything was great for quite a long time.

Once I had gotten on The Pill (so that Ray and I had begun having condom-less, diaphragm-less, spermicidal foam-less intercourse together), it didn’t seem like a day would ever go by without me having at least one fresh wad of Ray’s sperm in my pussy. And that was because Ray and I both treated sex as simply being another natural need that had to be satisfied, just like hunger and thirst.

In fact, shortly after I got on The Pill, sex quickly became a daily routine for us, in much the same way that eating breakfast was. Of course, having sex with Ray tended to be much more exciting than eating breakfast was.

At this point in our lives together, in addition to fertilizing my pussy on an almost-daily basis, Ray was making a living as a full-time musician/singer in a very popular local rock band. And that was a precarious–and sometimes downright hazardous–lifestyle.

It was definitely not the type of lifestyle that we wanted to bring a child into. And so Ray and I both made sure that I took my birth control pill each and every morning, without ever missing a pill.

Our Second “Accident” – Doctors Can Be Wrong

In the early spring of 1978, I decided that I wanted to temporarily stop taking The Pill, just to give my body a break from all those artificial hormone levels that the super-potent birth control pills caused in one’s body, back in those days.

I had been using The Pill daily since 1973. And after talking it over with Ray, and expressing my health concerns to him, we both decided that I should switch over to an intrauterine device (IUD) for a little while, and then later go back on The Pill again, after anywhere from a few months to a year of me using the IUD as birth control.

So I made a consultation appointment with my gynecologist at the time, Dr. Ortega (not his real name), and discussed my having him insert an IUD into my uterus. Dr. Ortega told me that the IUD could only be inserted safely during one of the days of my menstrual period, and asked me to make an appointment to come in for that procedure, once my next period had begun.

I waited until my period started, which was on a Thursday night. I called Dr. Ortega’s office the very next morning and made an appointment to come in for the IUD insertion. I tried to get in that same day, but the earliest they could fit me in was Monday, which was the fourth day of my five-day-long menstrual period.

On Monday morning, Ray was in the small exam room with me, when I found myself on top of the exam table, with my legs spread apart and the heels of my feet in the metal stirrups, and the doctor between my legs, getting ready to insert the IUD up into my uterus. Of course, there was also the requisite nurse in the small room with us, standing beside the doctor, waiting to assist him, if needed.

That’s when one of ladies from the doctor’s front office staff came barging into the exam room, saying that the Dr. Ortega (who was also an obstetrician) had a patient of his who was going into active labor, and needed for him to come to the hospital as soon as possible to deliver her baby.

Dr. Ortega abruptly stopped the IUD insertion procedure, and told me that I would have to reschedule it for another time. He had the lady from his front office staff check the appointment calendar, and there was nothing open for the next day, which was the last day of my period. So the doctor told me that I would have to wait to get the IUD put in, until I had my next period.

I told Dr. Ortega that I was very concerned about this, because my prescription for The Pill had run out, and I didn’t have any birth control pills left at home. I also told him that condoms weren’t an acceptable alternative for us, because Ray and I had always experienced such bad luck while using condoms.

And of course, the last thing that Ray and I wanted to do was to stop fucking for an entire month. That seemed like an eternity to us, at the time. And in our eyes, it was a totally unacceptable solution for our doctor-caused lack-of-IUD problem.

But Dr. Ortega assured me that there was absolutely nothing for me to worry about, and that Ray and I should simply go on having sexual intercourse, as usual, until my next period came.

Of course, I was completely shocked by the doctor’s statement. And so was Ray.

Then the good doctor went on to tell Ray and me that, since I had been on The Pill for about 5 years, there was no way that my body would return back to its “natural state” (ovulating monthly, etc.) within the first 45 to 60 days after getting off The Pill. He reassured both of us that, no matter how much unprotected sexual intercourse we had together, there would be “no chance at all of me getting pregnant before my next period came”–at which time I was to return to his office to finally get the IUD inserted.

So Ray and I left Dr. Ortega’s office. And when Wednesday came and my period was finally over with, we fucked our brains out, knowing full well that we intentionally weren’t using any form of birth control, thanks to the doctor’s insistence that it wasn’t necessary at all.

Ray and I continued to fuck at least once a day for the next couple of weeks, until one day…

Ray and I both felt so extraordinarily horny that we decided to skip foreplay entirely, and we ended up fucking two times–one right after another–during the same sexual encounter. First, we fucked in a missionary style position, with me lying on my back on the carpeted bedroom floor, until Ray creampied my pussy. Then I quickly flipped over, got on all fours, and teasingly swayed my butt from side-to-side. Ray immediately mounted me from behind, and fucked me doggie style. And it didn’t take very long for him to coat my cervix with a second helping of his sperm.

Throughout the entire time that we were fucking, I was so turned-on, that I just kept orgasming my ass off over and over again. And Ray was so sexually excited that he never lost his erection the whole time, as he completely skipped his normal refractory period that would have usually taken place between his first ejaculation and his second one.

When Ray pulled his dick out of my pussy after our just-completed doggie style intercourse, I rolled over onto my back, and Ray plopped himself down on the carpet, right beside me. He was totally spent, and breathing very heavily, directly into my left ear.

As we both lay there in each other’s arms, my womb all of the sudden began feeling really strange to me. And I know this probably sounds crazy–especially to all you men out there–but somehow, I could instinctively sense that I was fertile, and that one of Ray’s “swimming” sperm cells had actually managed to penetrate and enter into my awaiting egg cell.

“There’s something I need to tell you, babe,” I finally said to Ray. “It feels like I’m fertile right now, and I’m almost positive that you just got me pregnant. Don’t ask me how I know. I just do. That’s all.”

Of course, Ray reacted to my “just got me pregnant” statement, as if I were a raving lunatic in a sanatorium.

“Hey! Don’t look at me that way!” I reprimanded him. “I’m not kidding, Ray. This is serious. I don’t care what the doctor said. I swear to you. You just got me pregnant!”

And for the sake of keeping the peace, Ray patronized me by saying, “Okay, okay. I believe you. So what do we do now?”

But I could tell that Ray still didn’t truly believe me–that is, until my period didn’t come when it was supposed to, about two weeks later.

I waited another week after my period was supposed to have started, and still no menstruation. So I went down to the store and bought a home pregnancy test.

I went into the bathroom, peed on the end of the stick, and then waited for the required amount of time. And sure enough, there was a little red “+” sign on the indicator at the tip of the flat, Popsicle-style stick.

I showed the positive pregnancy test stick to Ray, and he was floored. And he apologized for not believing me earlier, back when I had told him in bed that day that he had just gotten me pregnant.

I called Dr. Ortega’s office that same afternoon to ask the doctor to call me at his earliest convenience. And when he called me back, I told him all about what had happened. And I also let him know that, as far as I was concerned, my pregnancy was a direct result of the poor advice that he had given me and Ray during my last visit to his office.

I could tell by the tone of his voice, that Dr. Ortega was quite shocked and surprised by my story. He kept apologizing to me, and insisting that he had never had any other patient of his get pregnant within one menstrual cycle (28 days) of quitting The Pill. He told me that I had to be incredibly fertile for that to have happened to me.

A few months later, I was able to breathe a big sigh of relief when this first-ever pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. At the time, I certainly didn’t feel like Ray and I were ready to be parents yet. The truth is that Ray and I were both very pleased that this pregnancy didn’t end up bringing a baby into our lives.

Now don’t get me wrong. It’s not that Ray and I didn’t want to have kids someday. It’s just that we didn’t want to be raising kids at that point in our lives (back when Ray and I both still felt like we were really just overgrown kids ourselves).

The ironic part about all of this is that I finally got Dr. Ortega to insert the IUD device inside of my uterus–and it immediately turned out to be the worst form of birth control that Ray and I had ever tried to use.

Once I had the IUD inside my uterus, I all of the sudden began experiencing extremely painful abdominal cramping, which only seemed to worsen during sexual arousal–and especially during sexual intercourse.

And that long, thin, sturdy piece of IUD-attached string that emerged from the tiny opening in the middle of my cervix, and perpetually hung down into my vagina (and believe it or not, that was the way the IUD was designed to work) ended up irritating Ray’s sensitive-skinned Scotch-Irish penis so badly, that after just a couple of attempts at sexual intercourse, we both agreed to quit having sex altogether, until after I had gotten that damn IUD removed (which I did as soon as I possibly could).

After that horrible IUD experience was over with, I ran straight back to The Pill with wide-open arms, and things quickly got back to normal, thank God. Ray and I were able to have great sex together once again. And as you can imagine, both of us were very thankful for that.

Our Third “Accident” – Women Can Ovulate Twice

It was the summer of 1991, and I had just celebrated my 38th birthday a couple of weeks before my third accident happened.

It had been a very long time since Ray and I had had a sexual intercourse accident, the last one being in 1978. And that’s because we tried hard to keep it that way.

However, when I turned 35, I asked Ray if I could get off The Pill permanently, since it was much more dangerous (health-wise) for women over 35 to be on The Pill, than it was for younger women. And Ray agreed that my health came first.

So Ray and I finally decided that we would use the rhythm method of natural birth control, in conjunction with daily morning basal body temperature readings to determine the actual day of my ovulation during each of my menstrual cycles, so that we could verify which days of my cycle to include in my “safe times,” and be able to make adjustments to my “safe times,” if needed.

For those of you who may not be too familiar with the rhythm method of birth control, here’s a quick overview:

The rhythm method is based on the fact that a woman or girl normally can’t get pregnant during the first 7 days of her menstrual cycle, which starts on the first day of her period. A woman or girl also normally can’t get pregnant from day 21 through the rest of her menstrual cycle, which ends on the last day before her next period starts.

Those first and last weeks of a female’s cycle are commonly referred to as being the woman’s or girl’s “safe times.” In other words, “safe times” are those groupings of days in her menstrual cycle when a woman or girl isn’t normally fertile, and therefore can have unprotected sexual intercourse without ever getting pregnant.

At least, that’s the way that the rhythm method is supposed to work. And it does work very well most of the time, especially when combined with daily basal body temperature readings.

The point I’m trying to make is that, although it did require much more discipline and self-restraint than any other form of birth control that Ray and I ever used, this combination of natural-style birth control systems worked flawlessly for Ray and me over the course of 3 full years–all the way up until that “special day” in the summer of 1991, when the wheels finally came off.

It happened during the beginning of the fourth week of my menstrual cycle. My basal temperature had already spiked the graph line (on the little chart that I updated daily) at the end of the second week, meaning that I had just ovulated. And so Ray and I had avoided having intercourse for a little over a week, just to be on the safe side.

The very next time that we fucked, I knew that my period was only days away. But I felt extraordinarily horny. And so did Ray. So we decided to skip foreplay entirely, and Ray fucked me twice in a row–once in a standard missionary position, and then again in a doggie style position-without him ever losing his erection until after he had finished fucking me doggie style.

Is any of this starting to sound familiar to you? Well, it felt like déjà vu to me too–except that this time, Ray and I were fucking on top of the bed, instead of down on the floor; and I didn’t wait until afterwards to inform Ray about my pregnancy suspicions. Instead, I did it while he was busy humping away at my pussy from behind, doggie style.

I turned my head to one side, and said to Ray, “Go ahead, babe. Give me some more of that sexy sperm of yours, if you want to. But I really don’t think I need it any more.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Ray asked, obviously confused by my remark, but still thrusting away at my sopping-wet baby-making hole. And I could tell, by the slower and deliberate way that he was thrusting–and by the way that he was pausing for a short moment at the very end of each inward thrust–that Ray was just about to cum.

I quickly reached down between my legs and placed my hand on Ray’s balls, just to verify my suspicion that Ray was getting ready to cum. And sure enough, he had a “flat sack.”

What I mean by that term, is that Ray’s balls weren’t hanging down underneath his dick anymore, like they normally do. Instead, his balls were pulled up out of their drastically-tightened-up and flattened-out scrotal sack, and they were resting against the base of his shaft, with one oval-shaped testicle pressed up snugly against either side of his dick-shaft. And I knew exactly what that particular “dick and balls configuration” meant. Ray was just moments away from shooting his wad.

“Well, you’re feelin’ super-horny right now, aren’t you? I mean, really, really horny. Right?”

“Oh, fuck yes!” Ray quickly admitted.

“Well, so am I. And you wanna know why?”

Ray didn’t respond to my question. Instead, he was totally preoccupied with methodically humping away at my pussy. And it was obvious to me that he was quickly being overwhelmed by his own orgasmic sensations, as he was automatically building up to his now-inevitable orgasmic peak.

“I’m pretty sure that you already got me pregnant!” I announced loudly enough to try to make sure that Ray would hear me through the thick, orgasmic fog that I knew was clouding up his brain. “It felt like it happened right after we started ‘doing it’ doggie style,” I added, as I felt Ray’s dick-head quickly ballooning up and getting much larger inside me.

“Oh shit! God damn it!” I heard Ray scream out loudly, as he was reaching his climax.

This was quite surprising to me, because Ray didn’t normally tend to get vocal during an orgasm. I’m the one who usually did that kind of stuff.

And then I started nervously giggling like a little schoolgirl, as I felt Ray’s dick begin pulsating deep inside me, while he was forcefully unleashing his second wad of sperm all over my cervix–and also continuing to cuss away like a drunken sailor throughout his exceptionally long-lasting ejaculation.

Afterwards, while we were lying side-by-side, Ray said, “I thought you told me that you already ovulated this month, right at the end of the second week, just like you’re supposed to.”

“I did,” I said. “You saw the spike in the graph yourself. But I guess I must have ovulated again. All I know is that I’m almost positive that you got me pregnant, just a few minutes ago.”

This time–unlike during our second accident back in 1978–Ray believed me when I told him about my hunch that he had just gotten me pregnant. And his reaction to my “unexpected news” was very supportive and loving.

The very next morning, my basal body temperature reading was high, creating a second spike in the graph, which indicated that I had actually ovulated twice during the same menstrual cycle. Over the next few days, Ray and I stopped having sex altogether, while we were halfheartedly waiting for my period to hopefully arrive at its scheduled time. And of course, it never did; because I was as pregnant as I could get.

And that’s how my now-23-year-old son was conceived.

* * * * *

What I really want for you take away from this story is that no matter how much you try to prevent pregnancy, while maintaining an active sex life at the same time, sometimes sexual intercourse “accidents” happen anyway. And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it–except to deal with the aftermath.

Fertilization happens…

* * * * *