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The Sperm Donor

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Camila’s POV
“So, Mama has a penis?” Emelia asks curiously, her head tilted to one side.
Lauren sits on the couch next to her, bent over at the waist and holding a pack of peas to the offended area. I sit opposite my daughter on the coffee table, struggling to hold in a giggle at my wife’s agony. My eyes switch between the two as I watch Emelia search for an explanation in her head, and Lauren trying to settle the dull ache between her legs.
She had been practising her pitching for softball when she launched it against her mother’s groin. It could hurt anyone but when Lauren lowered herself to the floor, holding herself and her stomach, Emelia had some questions.
“I’ve told you before that your mother is different. Her body is different to ours. She wasn’t born like you and I, Lia. She’s very special.” Lauren grunts at my answer as she falls back against the couch, holding the bag of peas more securely at her groin and taking a sip of water. Her eyes dart at mine when I release a squeak of a laugh.
“Was she born like Micah?” The pitch in her voice raises at her brother’s name as she attempts to explore the possibilities of what could be so special about her mother.
We had been sure to teach about anatomy and differences in the body but we were careful about associating features to gender specifically. We knew she wouldn’t understand her mother’s condition at a young age and so kept it transparent enough that this conversation wouldn’t revoke anything she had previously learned. It’s a sensitive topic still for Lauren and we didn’t want our daughter telling everyone she meets about her mother’s condition, hence why the talk was postponed beyond general conversation.
“Kind of. Mom was born differently from you and differently from Micah. No two bodies are the same, remember?”
“Okay. So Mom has a penis and not a vagina?” I blush at the terms my daughter uses but I know correct terminology is better than terrible euphemisms. I was certain to use ‘wee-wee’ and ‘hoo-ha’ but Lauren didn’t approve.
Micah runs into the room giggling as Dexter chases him closely. They’ve been chasing each around the house all day. Lauren perks up at his entrance but mewls over again when the little boy throws his arms into her lap and looks around in search for the panting dog beside him.
“Do you mind, little man?” My wife grunts at the force and moves our son’s arms to her thigh, breathing heavily as she turns the cold bag over and holds it back to her groin.
“Is the ice even doing anything?” I ask between laughs.
“Not at all. It’s just made me a bit numb which is better than being in pain.” I shake my head and turn back to my children: Emelia has crouched down now to play with the dog while Micah chuckles and casually puts his hands down his pants.
Boys are disgusting.
“So do you understand now Emelia?”
“Yeah I think so. Everyone has different bodies. Some have penises, some have vaginas,” she answers with a nod as though she is accurately reciting a list.
“Some have both and some have none. I think. Wait, can some people have none?” I ask Lauren who looks at me pointedly. I think she’s mad I haven’t help her. What a shame.
“I have a penis!” Micah says with a smile, his hands now on Lauren’s thigh for balance and swaying his hips. He looks proud of himself weirdly enough.
“High-five.” The little boy slaps his mother’s outstretched hand, laughing victoriously.
“People with penises are weird,” Emelia says quietly.
“Tell me about it.”

“How’s your little friend doing?” I ask later in the evening, although having just learned that there is definitely nothing wrong with her equipment. Lauren shifts her pillow closer to mine and pulls my naked body onto her own, my face resting on her breasts and my hand against her abdomen.
“Little friend? Not what you were saying earlier.”
“Cocky bitch.”
“Ugh, Lauren. You’re so big. You feel so good-” I slap her tummy for the imitation and bury my face between her breasts some more.
“Don’t take the piss out of me.”
“I’m not taking the piss.” Her laughs calm and she drags her fingertips along my spine. “But yeah, it’s better. It’s not in pain anymore.” Before I could settle in order to sleep, Lauren approaches a topic we have spoken about a few times. “Hey, Camz. Can we talk about something?”
“Of course.” I shift away from her body and turn on my side to face her, Lauren doing the same.
“I’m seriously considering donating my eggs. I can’t make any use of them but a couple who can’t conceive might. I’m gonna get too old to donate soon and I think I want to do this.” Lauren recently had her thirtieth birthday and the idea of donating has been persistent and something we have spoken about often.
“Taylor’s having more tests done but if they come back that she can’t have a child, I think I want to help her.”
“You’d still want to donate even after your concerns about Micah?”
“We both know nothing’s wrong with him. I’m just paranoid I think.” Since knowing Emelia, Lauren had kept a close eye on her development and concluded that nothing seems to be wrong. She has done the same with Micah.
He had suffered from stomach pains like Lauren had as a child. In Lauren’s case, it had something to do with a hormone imbalance and a struggle for the developing reproductive systems, mainly when she was becoming a teenager. With this in mind, she identified more things in Micah that could be symptoms. They were things every parent would overlook because they aren’t important but to Lauren they became something she needed answers to.
Lauren became quite the little doctor. Micah’s short for his age and a little bit feminine. I said that’s because we’re all short and he lives in a house of women. But she didn’t listen.
We went to the doctor and explained Lauren’s condition and her fears for our son. I had never seen my wife so confident talking about her condition but I knew that was because it had something to do with our family. She wasn’t embarrassed until a supporting nurse had her gaze fixated at Lauren’s groin upon learning her condition. She covered herself shyly and only moved away to prevent me from beating the woman perving on my wife.
After an ultrasound it was found that, as expected, Micah doesn’t have the presence of a female reproductive system and appears to be growing as a typical male. Just short and a bit camp like I said.
I laughed when I discovered one of the reasons Lauren was examined as a child because she had an abnormally small penis.
Talk about puberty hitting somebody well. You wouldn’t think having a small penis was a concern looking at her now.
I shake my head lightly to clear images of Lauren’s penis and focus on the matter in hand. Now isn’t the time to get distracted.
“Have you looked at the procedure? Like will it affect your body in any way?”
“Not significantly or permanently. I’ll just need to take medication that stimulate sex hormones so I’ll have enough eggs available to be retrieved.”
“And it won’t do anything to other hormones?”
“Apparently not. They’re just designed to boost production in sex hormones. Men and women take them for different reasons.”
“You’ve clearly done a lot of research.”
“Egg donation has always been on my mind. I mentioned it to you not long after we first met.” She did. “But talking to Taylor and hearing about her and Daniel’s problems conceiving just made me think a bit harder about it.”
“Well it’s your body, baby.” I have never been overjoyed about the prospect of Lauren donating her eggs. It’s quite terrifying to think that’s how we met and it could potentially happen again. If not Taylor, then what if somebody else gets to have Lauren’s child and decide they want her in the child’s life. It’s incredibly selfish of me but I want her, I need her, in my family – our family. I can’t share with anyone else.
I know Lauren has good intentions, however. She has ovaries and due to her external body’s development, they aren’t being used. With medication, she can stimulate those to produce eggs, enough for a donation. I needed her to make my dream of having a family come true and I understand other people might also need her, like her sister for example.
“I’m not saying it’s definitely happening but would it upset you?” Lauren’s thumb runs across my cheek to catch a tear I didn’t know was falling. “Why are you crying?” I sniffle and wipe my eyes unattractively.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m proud. You’re such an incredible person, doing all of these things to better others’ lives.”
“Maybe?” Lauren asks tentatively.
“I also don’t want to share you.”
“If I help Taylor out, the child will be her and Daniel’s. I’ll just be cool Aunt Lauren. If the donation goes to someone else, I will keep it anonymous. They’ll only have my picture and nothing else.”
“You really want to do this, don’t you?”
“Only if you’ll support me.” I curl myself back into the woman’s body, seeking her warmth and tenderness.
“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t support you?” She kisses me as her own tears trickle softly. “I love you.”

“I want a boyfriend.”
“Tough. You’re not having one.”
“But I want a boyfriend!”
“I don’t think you do.”
I look up from my place at the counter toward the familiar voices. Lauren and our children have just entered the bakery, Michael quickly running and jumping into Ally’s arms who squeals at his entrance.
“Mama, please let me have a boyfriend!”
“Nuh-uh.”
Emelia storms off toward a table in the corner of the shop, seating herself into the round couch with her arms crossed and a pout dramatically clear on her lips.
“You’ve pissed off our daughter haven’t you?” I ask as my wife rounds the counter to greet me with a kiss.
“Apparently so.” Lauren’s thumb swipes at some icing left on my cheek and brings it to her lips to lick off. “Some cute boy at the school apparently. Emelia wants to ask him out. I told her she’s far too young and it’s not happening.”
“Lauren, she’s eight!”
“And crazy! Thinking I’ll let that shit happen.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. A child’s idea of having a boyfriend or a girlfriend is very different from ours. We don’t encourage it, nor do we get angry. Think about it, she wants to ask him out. We have a confident, self-assured daughter. Be happy.”
“That just makes me nervous,” Lauren says with a frown. “She’s not allowed a boyfriend until she’s eighteen at least.” I shake my head with a chuckle at my wife. She’s fucking crazy.
“You being all strict and protective like this is really hot,” I whisper into her ear, leaning gently into her body. My wife swallows and her abdomen tenses under my touch. “But you need to get out my kitchen!” I push her away from me and to the other side of the counter – the customer side. She may have funded this place but she doesn’t work here. “Now go and say sorry for being so bossy. It was uncalled for, Laur.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Lauren mutters under her breath and walks toward our still grumpy daughter. The argument persists but it seems just less vigorous than before. After an hour or so, Ally makes her way home and I finish closing the bakery. Like most nights the four of us walk home together. Lauren finishes work in time to pick up Micah from day-care and Emelia from school, and will often stay behind at the shop and wait for me to finish too.
“Micah, do you think your sister should be allowed a boyfriend?”
“Nope!” He replies cheerfully and Emelia only grunts in response.
“That’s my boy!”

Taylor receives the news that her body can only house a child and not be the one to move them in (Lauren’s analogy). She adores her older sister with a newfound love when she announces she had already started looking into preparing her body for a donation. She starts taking synthetic hormones to stimulate her ovaries for egg donation.
The medication is designed to boost sex hormones and so her sperm production is also affected. Naturally, I give her a sex ban. Having three children just isn’t on the cards right now.
“Come on, Camz?” Lauren nudges my leg with hers. My wife’s lips land on the column of my neck and her pale hands squeeze at my hips.
“No, Lauren. My body couldn’t even fight off your sperm before the medication, now they’re like racers on speed. It’s not happening.”
“We’ll use a condom.” Lauren manoeuvres herself between my legs as her lips drift down to my t-shirt clad chest. I have to cover up now that I’m denying her sex. If I slept in the nude like I normally would, it would be a lot harder to resist her wandering hands and persistent lips.
“I wouldn’t put that past your little swimmers.” From hiking up my legs over her hips and knocking her centre against mine, she keeps them raised to slip under the covers and settle her face between my thighs.
“You’re not gonna reject me after this.” I roll my eyes at my horny wife and lift the bed cover slightly to watch as she drags her tongue and teeth across my underwear.
“Oh I will. I’ll be satisfied after one orgasm. I can happily fall asleep after you’ve been down there.”
“That’s bullshit! You can never sleep after just one orgasm!” Lauren looks at me with an expression of bemusement, she knows that she’s right - I can’t.
“I’m not going to have sex with you, Lauren. Not even if you’re wrapping it up.”
“But you love me. Especially after I do this.” Lauren peels my underwear over to one side and quickly attaches her mouth to my hot centre. I groan at the connection and push my hips further into her face. Holding my thighs, she pulls away to taunt me again. “See, you’re not going to want to stop after this.”
“Don’t doubt me.” With a hand to the back of her head, I push her face firmly between my legs. A lone finger rubs at that delicious spot inside of me while her tongue roams at my skin. My wife’s enthusiastic tongue works for some minutes until I fall, crumbling into her arms as my centre pulses.
Her lips take their time to ascend my body again, continuing to worship its path with little licks and nibbles. My wife’s hands roam my sides, massaging and rubbing at my hips and ass.
“That was good, baby. Now sleep time.” I roll over with a smile on my face, knowing how pissed my wife must be right now.
“Erm, I don’t think so.” Her front moulds to my back as her fingers dig into my sides, tickling mercilessly as her other hand holds my body hostage.
“I’m not having sex with you, Lauren.” The green-eyed woman grunts against my ear and rolls me onto my back, holding herself up with strong arms.
“Can you suck me off then?” Ah, my confident, always horny, wife.
“No.” I smile at her pout and despite the request, I can’t help but find her adorable.
“Camz, please. You know how hard I get when I go down on you.” In persuasion, Lauren sucks at my neck again, pressing her lips and tongue roughly to the tan skin. “Vagina or mouth. It’s your decision.”
“You’re unreal!” With a hand to her chest, I push my wife onto her back; laughing against her lips when she lets me. Her persistence and smug grin makes me love her even more in spite of her vulgar statement.
Thirty minutes later and Lauren is rubbing at the marks on her wrists, the leather straps now tucked away in the bedside drawer. I watch her from the bathroom where I rid the taste of my wife’s climax from my mouth with a toothbrush and toothpaste.
“Babe! You really did a number on me. I’m exhausted.” I laugh at her still smug, satisfied expression. I finish brushing my teeth and greet my wife with a kiss, falling into her open arms and tucking my face into her neck.
“Don’t sleep yet. Stay up and talk to me,” I whisper.
“How are you not tired?”
“You’re right, I can’t sleep after just one orgasm. But I’m still not having sex with you so I’m hoping that if we stay up and talk, I won’t be horny anymore.”
“Are you saying my voice is a mood killer?”
“Of course not. You have a sexy voice. It’s the shit that comes out of your mouth that dampens my mood.” My wife tries to push me away with a huff but with a koala grip to her torso I never leave her side. “I love you though.”
“Sure you do. You’re using me to rid you of your arousal and it’s not even with sex! How rude.”
“Oh shut up. We’re not having sex and cold showers are horrible.” I move away from my wife’s sweaty skin because it’s not helping the matter at all, and turn onto my side, encouraging Lauren to do the same. Grins match on our faces and the one on mine only stretches when I think about how I’m never not smiling when I’m with her. It’s always fun. “I haven’t touched myself in so long either.”
It’s always fun to tease her as well.
“No?” Lauren just giggles at me and it’s still an adorable sound.
“I haven’t need to! I have you.”
“Cute. I touched myself yesterday.”
“You did?!” I ask excitedly, only encouraging that giggle from her again. Just because she’s now comfortable with me touching her body, it doesn’t mean she enjoys touching herself as much as most would.
“You’re not supposed to get excited about your wife touching herself.”
“But you’ve got years of masturbating to make up for! As long as I’m still invited to the fun and I’m not left out then I’m good with it. Just video it next time, yeah?” I tease, laughing loudly when she rolls over and hides her face in the pillow. “Oh come on, babe. You could probably make a calendar for next five years with the amount of pictures I’ve sent you! I need something to show the girls I’m getting better sex than they are.”

I’m there for Lauren when she has abdominal surgery some months later for egg retrieval.
Only a month later and Taylor’s pregnancy test is positive. Any selfish thoughts I had previously are quickly eradicated when I see how happy Taylor and the Jauregui family are. After many thanks given to my wife, it’s almost like everyone had moved past the fact the unborn child is technically Lauren’s as well. Taylor was finally having her own family and Lauren was finally going to be an Aunt. That’s it. The family was just somehow closer than they were before.
Lauren is happy for her sister but she’s even happier when Emelia’s first baby tooth falls out. The little girl comes running down the stairs one night, into the living room where Lauren and I are cuddled up watching a movie, with a tooth in one hand and bloody tissue in another. Apparently instead of sleeping she had just laid in bed trying to get the thing out. Lauren picks our daughter up and spins her, knowing just how annoyed Emelia was after dealing with a wobbly tooth for some weeks. It was sweet but I just couldn’t stop staring in disgust at the bloody tissue that has landed on a sleeping Dexter’s face.
Despite everything happening, Lauren’s focus was still our little family. Even the small things like getting baby teeth to fall out or getting Micah to build sentences of multiple words. Our children and our marriage was always the priority.
Arguing isn’t something either of us enjoy. Lauren will keep something from me to spare my upset while, as usual, I’ll take my stress out on the person who’s always there and she lets me. As soon as I have the first sight of tears however, I know I can’t argue with her. My baby’s too precious to argue with. But when they happen, not all arguments can be smoothed over with a cuddle and good sex no matter how much we wish they could be.
Moving house again was a solution to one of those arguments.
My selfless wife failed to share with me her unhappiness for some time. It wasn’t the kids and I that made her unhappy. It was the job she worked so hard to get to find it was nothing she expected. Her directory position at VICE hadn’t been as stimulating or enjoyable as she wanted and the money wasn’t a good enough reason to pretend to be happy. These were details she kept from me for well into a year. Lauren feared telling me because of my own business and the children. She would endure unhappiness in her own life if it meant mine would be smooth sailing.
But I wouldn’t be another person in her life that ignores her feelings and ignores her motivations. I wouldn’t be the person standing in her way of achieving complete happiness. My wife would grumpily go to work each morning and return home with an attitude each day for a few months. It wasn’t until the night she cried in front of me that I understood why.
~~
Finding Micah napping on the floor cuddling Dexter isn’t unusual when I return home from work but it still makes me coo every time. It is however surprising to see Emelia sitting on the couch behind my wife and attempting to massage her shoulders. The little girl’s nimble fingers pinch and poke at her mother’s skin to prompt a giggle I hadn’t heard in a while.
Lauren’s still-sad gaze meets mine when I take my daughter’s place, the little girl throwing herself on her mother’s lap while my own hands start working against my wife’s skin. Dark locks of hair move in front of my wife’s face as she dips her head onto Emelia’s shoulder and holds her tightly. I attempt to cradle them both and press a kiss to Lauren’s head.
“We need to talk about this tonight, Laur.” She gently nods her head, still hiding away in our daughter’s neck. “I’m here, baby,” I whisper next to her ear, “always here.”
Later that night after I had massaged Lauren properly, working out the kinks in her back and shoulders, I encourage the woman to roll onto her back. I help tug a vest back onto her body and play nervously with the fabric like she does with mine.
“What would make you happy, Laur?”
“I’m happy when you’re happy. If you still want this,” my wife gestures around the bedroom, “then we’ll stay here and I’ll keep my job. I want what you want.” My wife’s fingers continue to fiddle with the hem of my t-shirt, distracting herself to keep the tears from her eyes. I keep my frustrations toward my wife at bay and move into her, cradling her porcelain skin and encouraging the woman to look at me rather than the ceiling.
“Talk to me. What do you want? We’ll make anything work if you just tell me what you need to be happy. I’m here, with you, through everything.”
Kissing Lauren has always been one of my favourite things, even when her lips taste salty from the tears. As always, Lauren tugs me securely into her body, chest to chest and lips to lips. Our kiss is slow but wet and sloppy from the fact she is still softly crying. I laugh into the connection when she doesn’t hide her sniffling and leans away from me to unattractively wipe her nose with her sleeve.
“We’re grown-ups, Lauren. We have to talk about this shit and you’ve been hiding from me that you’ve been unhappy for a long time with this job. Something has to change and you just need to tell me what.” My wife’s face had previously been tucked in the crook of my neck but with a slight massage to her temples she looks up at me, with teary eyes and a pout to her lips. The question is whether she resembles our children or Dexter.
She shakes her head in deliberation and you could almost see the wheels turning in her head. She wants to say something but doesn’t know if she should. I narrow my eyes at her until she gulps nervously and starts to speak.
“I think I want to work at the sanctuary with Taylor and my mother.”
~~
We move into what was previously our holiday home in Cape May some months later. Since spending that first weekend together in that house – her birthday weekend – it has been a special place to us, hosting many family getaways and even Christmas one year. But now it’s our home. Lauren’s dream home for us since the beginning.
While Lauren quickly got to work with the sanctuary, I had opened a second bakery. The first in New York had been so successful that Ally and I had been able to pay back Lauren within a year with the woman however not wanting to take the money and instead encouraging me to add it to the children’s college funds. Normani and Ally had joined forces now with the two women running our first establishment in New York and I opening our second in New Jersey with Chris’ girlfriend, soon to be fiancée, Anna, as an associate.
A seven-month pregnant Taylor still helps at big animal sanctuary with Lauren while their mother is also heavily involved like she used to be. Clara has been healthy since the treatment where we had used the stem cells from Micah to cure her sickness and only uses that to her advantage to tease Lauren and I along with her husband.
Since his retirement, Mike is always on hand for babysitting whenever Emelia or Micah are sick from school or their mother and I decide to go out for the evening. But that means he is also more persuasive about the two of us giving him more grandchildren, something both Clara and Lauren seem to really agree with. Apparently it’s so we can fill up all of those rooms at the house, something apparently Lauren also thought about during her birthday weekend. She recognised that so many of the small rooms won’t ever be used, thus providing the perfect excuse to have more children. Though I don’t think it works like that.
“But you’re not the one sacrificing your vagina!” I tell my wife as she attempts to slow dance with me in our pool. As soon as we had put the children to bed, she stripped us both and threw me into the pool. Dancing in our soaked underwear was my idea.
“But if I had a vagina then we would definitely take turns! You carry the first two then I’ll do the next two.”
“Oh really?” I shiver when her fingertips trace patterns along my spine and her following smirk tells me she notices her effect on me.
“Mhm. Though, thinking about it, I’ve always wanted a vagina and now I’m sacrificing a metaphorical one to childbirth… I don’t think I would be good with one.”
“Considering how generous you are with giving your genetic material and reproductive resources to help others, I think it would be a disaster – just popping out babies for everyone else! But seriously, at least you understand that is a sacrifice. Men don’t understand that. They only realise the damage of childbirth to vaginas when either he or the baby-momma doesn’t want to fuck anymore because of its state.”
“I think you’re exaggerating a bit, babe,” Lauren laughs off. “After two babies yours is still perfect and our sex life couldn’t be better.”
“You didn’t see what it was like before I had Emelia. Maybe it was even better.” I wink teasingly at my wife, pinching her side when she giggles in response.
“Not possible.” Lauren introduces her tongue to what were previously the softest kisses you could receive and I moan at the action, holding onto my wife’s shoulders tightly. “So how about another one?” The older woman teases again, winking at me when her fingers drag across my abdomen.
“Unless you’re going to pop one out of your magic vagina and ‘take turns’, it’s not happening.” I return the wink and move away from my wife to get out of the pool. I almost agree to the request when I watch her eyes devour me but instead sway my hips and without words, encourage my wife to join me in the bedroom.

‘Taking turns’ for having babies was something Normani and Ally initially planned for during Ally’s pregnancy with Sasha but that definitely wasn’t on the cards for either woman now, especially Normani who knew that it was her ‘go’. Instead, they bought a puppy.
We visited our friends back in New York for Halloween and that puppy was definitely their replacement for a new child. Since Micah doesn’t like anything scary and will scream down the house at the sight of blood, we all decided to dress up more comically with Lauren and I trick-or-treating in our unicorn and cow onesies. Ally, dressed as her crazy alter-ego in a leopard print onesie and a blonde wig, carried around the dog in her purse the entire evening. Like every evening.
Lauren, the children and I stayed the night at Dinah’s new place which was interesting to say the least. Of course, Khiara was still obsessed with Lauren. Why wouldn’t she be? But she had also gotten bolder. We all thought that, with age, the little girl would grow out of it but even the typically oblivious Lauren was made aware of her crush when she was proposed to by the little one. She wasn’t very happy finding out that I had already married the green-eyed woman and unsurprisingly, Khiara was a guest to that wedding.
It was also interesting to have so little privacy, something Lauren and I really wasn’t used to anymore. I hope it wasn’t the cow onesie that caused my wife’s arousal but it had been a long time to see her that disappointed to realise sex was off the cards.
But cooing over Dinah’s baby bump was what my wife especially found most interesting.
Lauren teased me about getting baby fever and she teased me that it won’t be too long until I jump her bones and asking for another child myself. “Sure you don’t want another, babe?” She would ask. It was considered but I had to say that I’m sure. Two children and expanding a business was enough to focus on though Lauren apparently thinks not.
In retrospect, pregnancy was a lot of fun and I would probably do it again. With Lauren there with me, everything was perfect. From shopping for baby clothes to talking optimistically about how to raise our children, I enjoyed her excitement and it only made me the same. Even with the potentially scary stuff like preparing for childbirth, Lauren was exceptional. Her own fear and unpreparedness made everything even the more fun.
Lauren watched intently at the tutorials and grimaced at the particularly gory parts that were shown by birthing classes that we attended together during the third trimester of my pregnancy with Micah. She actually heaved when we were shown footage from a birthing video along with some of the Dads. Like Micah, she’s not fond of blood.
She tried comforting me before realising that it was only she that had the problem. Lauren was the one pale-faced with her mouth agape and her eyes wide. A woman sat beside us joked that it would be her to have the next baby – ‘take turns’.
“It’s not possible. I have a penis,” Lauren replied, simply smiling and turning back to the birthing instructor without any elaboration. The woman sat beside us still shocked and confused and I chuckled quietly to myself when I note Lauren doesn’t care for beating around the bush anymore.
“That’s one way of telling people, baby.” I say, leaning back into Lauren’s embrace and kissing the side of her neck. It was a slightly better way of telling people about her condition than she had done previously, however. Her explanations to my family and old friends we ran into (including Abbey), were not as good.
“With my semen,” was the reply to my bitchy cousin and Aunt when they asked how it was possible I was pregnant again.
“She felt too good to pull out,” was the one said to Abbey.
So her explanations were still blunt and not very informative but at least they weren’t as crude. She’s learning.
Lauren hasn’t spoken about her condition too much, often settling for short responses which leave people confused still. But when Leon asked how everything works, he was given a full explanation into her anatomy and the genetic configuration behind it. I doubt she thought he was too interested, she just wanted to ensure that he and the rest of their friends knew that she was still getting laid and that everything does indeed work very well.
I exude love and pride when I talk about Lauren to people I meet. Nothing could stop me praising my wife and her confidence. Though we do have very different ways of explaining it to people, neither of us are ashamed to talk about our family or her condition. I have tried to encourage my wife to talk more about her condition rather than explaining with variations of “I have a penis.” Apparently it’s too funny to watch people squirm and get confused however, and Lauren has no intention of stopping.

“Do you remember when you used to get nervous about getting out of the pool like that?” I gesture toward her soaked lower half and the prominent outline of her anatomy in her swim shorts. Every morning she swims laps in the pool and comes prodding into the kitchen, dripping over the tiles and searching for food with wet hands. Most mornings I am already sitting at the island in our kitchen with coffee and a plate of food, tutting when I see the trail of water she leaves behind and not bothering to clean up.
“I guess I still do when we go to the beach with the kids but when we’re here, I have nobody to hide from.” I accidentally gulp the hot coffee when, as usual, she holds a sandwich between her lips and drops her shorts, not rushing to grab the towel from beside me that she eventually wraps around her lower half. Lauren takes a bite from a sandwich and puts it on my bare thighs so she can remove her bikini top and replace it with a dry t-shirt.
“Just stripping in the kitchen, babe?”
“Of course.” She takes the sandwich again, devouring the thing in a few bites. “Good morning.”
“You’re disgusting.”  I say when she deposits a kiss on my lips with her mouth full of food, even leaving a smear of butter on the side of my mouth which I use her t-shit to wipe off.
“You love me, anyway.” Lauren says with a smirk, moving her body to stand between my legs. The height of the kitchen stool makes me the same height as my wife and I use it to my advantage to smother her in kisses. “Are we gonna do this then, babe? While the kids are still asleep?” I bury my face in her neck with a groan but nod my head anyway. She tugs me to my feet with little effort and without hesitation, grabs me by the thighs and hoists me up for me to wrap my legs around her waist.
“I’m excited.” Of course she fucking is.

“Fucking hell.”
I groan and hold my head in my hands as I sit beside my wife on the cold bathroom floor with a positive pregnancy test between us.  
I look to my wife who’s smiling like a child. Her hand falls to her crotch and she praises it with a “well done”. With a scolding gaze sent her way, the grin disappears and she looks around the room absentmindedly.
“How did this even happen?”
“You would think after two kids you would understand the process by now,” Lauren answers the rhetorical question. “Well it starts with you begging me to put it in and-”
“Shut the fuck up, Lauren.”
“It was your idea to make the sex tape and it was your idea to go without a condom because apparently they’re not aesthetically pleasing. Once again, this was all your fault,” she finishes with another smug grin.
“I hate you.” I kick the test away and drop my head onto my annoying wife’s shoulder. Lauren deposits a kiss to the top of my head and circles her arms around me.
“I love you too, princess.”