[FM] New year, new us – had some big changes in January 2021

The morning of New Year’s Day last year was not fantastic.

Despite cutting out dairy (under protest) several months prior and DD’ing my husband Henry’s and my COVID-safe celebrations the night before in a cute town a couple hours away from home, I woke up feeling bloated and nauseous and exhausted and all-together shitty. I groaned and rolled out of Henry’s arms before lifting the covers to make sure I hadn’t bled all over our motel sheets. Nothing was there, thank goodness. I kissed Henry’s cheek and huffed to myself as I shoved my frigid feet into my slippers and rose from the bed, my aching back tightening with discomfort. Padding over to the dingy bathroom, I let out a stream of curses. Fuck, my tits were sore. I cupped one in each hand in the hopes that lifting them slightly would ease the pressure in my lower back.

This was PMS from hell. Meanwhile, fucking Henry was sleeping the sleep of the completely fucking unbothered, his mouth probably making that stupid fucking “pfeeew” sound he makes when he’s deep in REM sleep while I was being sabotaged by my traitorous uterus. By the time I climbed back under the covers, Henry had begun to stir. “Where did you go?” he muttered sleepily, grabbing me and pulling me against him.

“Had to pee,” I whispered, nuzzling my face against his neck and wrapping my arms around his torso.

“That’s really rude of you.”

“Will you ever forgive me?”

“Nah.”

“K.”

“Thanks for the offer though.”

“Fuck off,” I laughed.

He squeezed me tighter, making me hiss in pain as he crushed my tits against his ribcage. He immediately released me. “What’s going on, you ok?” he mumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Yeah, fuck, sorry, I’m fine, my chest is just really tender right now,” I murmured, rolling onto my back and breathing deeply through the pain, “PMS.”

“Didn’t realize Aunt Flo was in town.”

“Her flight will probably land sometime tonight based on how I’m feeling.”

One of his hands reached up to stroke my hair clumsily, his sleepiness still apparent. “Did you bring a heating pad with you?”

“Why would I bring a heating pad on vacation? We can stop to get a hot pack on the way home.”

“Lily, you’ve been getting horrible period for two decades, and you haven’t learned to plan ahead?”

“Not a full two decades, asshole, and I stopped setting notifications for my period when we stopped trying to get pregnant.”

He paused. “When was your last period?” he asked softly.

I immediately caught onto his tonal shift. Barely letting myself breathe, I grabbed my phone and opened my calendar app, swiping back eight weeks before I saw a day with a red dot on it. We locked eyes, and I turned the phone towards him, my hand shaking slightly. “We need to find a fucking CVS,” Henry whispered.

Not even five minutes later, we were fully dressed and hunched over Henry’s phone as it slowly connected to our car GPS, our heat on full blast as we shivered and bickered over what to type. “Should we just wait until we get home?” I asked, my teeth chattering, “What’s the traffic like now? How long’s the drive?”

“We were supposed to stop at Elizabeth and Tonys’ for lunch on the way back.”

“Nope, absolutely not. That’s not happening either way. Thank’s for the offer, though.”

“Ok yeah fair, I’ll text them now.”

“I thought you wanted to track down a test first?”

“Fuck, yeah, shit, ok, I’ll do that now.”

“Henry?”

“Yeah?”

“We both need to breathe.”

We locked eyes, inhaled deeply through our noses in unison as I conducted us to inhale, and exhaled through our mouths in unison as I conducted us to exhale. “I’ll text them, you look up nearby Walgreens,” I dictated, knowing this was one of those times when I had to take charge.

I shot off a quick text on our group chat with Elizabeth and Tony, making up an excuse about having a sore throat and not wanting to risk exposing them. Henry cursed under his breath. “What?” I barked, whipping my head towards him.

“Everything is fucking closed because it’s New Year’s Day.”

“What??”

He showed me his long Google Maps list of pharmacies with “closed” written underneath them in red. “Mother fuck,” I groaned, “Shit fuck. Fuck shit damn. Do we still have any tests at home?”

“I think so?”

“Ok. Here’s what we’re going to do. We are going to drive straight home and will pull over if we see any gas stations with open stores. Otherwise we will just wait and see if we have any left. Let’s go.”

“Lily, we haven’t checked out of the motel yet.”

“Ok. We are going to pack, check out, and go.”

We were on the road half an hour later. I couldn’t take my eyes off the GPS, the small map on the dashboard of our car making microscopic progress as we carefully wound through icy country roads for the first leg of our four-hour drive. Henry drove excruciatingly slowly as I jiggled my leg aggressively against the floor of the passenger seat. The car ride was silent, both of us too submerged in our thoughts to make casual conversation and too nervous to talk about anything serious. His voice jolted me out of my reverie. “The next turn is the highway, and it will be harder to tell if any gas station stores are open,” he murmured.

“Let’s just gun it and go home.”

He took a deep breath and nodded, turning on the turn signal to change lanes and speeding up. We locked eyes for a moment. I burst out laughing, Henry immediately following suit. “Why are you laughing?” he asked confusedly between wheezes.

“Because I’m so fucking scared!”

We laughed harder for a moment, but our laughs quickly petered out, our nerves getting the best of us. “Ok, let’s play a car game!” he proposed.

“Nope, thanks for the offer though.”

“What about the license plate game?”

“Have you seen a single out-of-state car since we started driving?”

He paused. “I spy with my little eye something that begins with T.”

“Is it the trees?”

“Fuck. Yes, it’s the trees.”

Silence filled the car again. “I have to do something with my hands!” I shouted exasperatedly, “Why didn’t I fucking learn how to knit?”

“Can you sit on your hands?”

“That won’t help.”

“I can pull over, and we can do some jumping jacks or something?”

“Are jumping jacks ok for a potential fetus?”

We locked eyes again briefly. “I’m out of ideas,” Henry admitted, turning his attention back to the road, “What’s the first thing that comes to mind that might help?”

“Can I blow you?”

It was a miracle the car didn’t swerve. “You want to suck my dick at a time like this?” he cried.

“I think it will help!”

He chewed on his lip as he thought about it, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror to check to see if there were any cops on the road. “I don’t even know if I can get hard right now,” he admitted.

“Can I try?”

“Yeah, fuck it, go for it.”

He opened the button at the front of his flannel pajama bottoms with one hand and pulled his flaccid dick through the flap. I ducked under his right arm to lean over his lap, my hand circling the base of his cock and my mouth opening as I lowered my face down. “Wait, stop!” Henry blurted.

I immediately released him and sat upright. “Is there a cop?”

“You shouldn’t swallow!”

“What?”

“If you’re pregnant, everything you eat feeds the baby! You shouldn’t swallow my cum!”

“For fuck’s sake. I guarantee pregnant people have been swallowing jizz for centuries.”

“Please.”

“Ok.”

Henry removed his right hand from the wheel to provide room for me. I ducked back down to his lap, my hand resuming its position as I took the entirety of his hardening cock into my mouth. I sucked him slowly, my cheeks suctioned against his shaft as I gently bobbed my head. He let out a soft sigh, and his hand came down to stroke my hair gently. “Ok, yeah, I can get into this,” he murmured.

My left hand circled the base of his cock to hold it upright. On my next pass downward, he was fully erect and couldn’t fit in my mouth. My right hand pulled his balls through the opening of his flannel pants and gently cupped them, rolling them slowly in the palm of my hand. I intentionally moaned to send vibrations down his shaft. He rubbed my back slowly, the dual warmths of his cock in my mouth and his hand on my back calming me down. I pulled back for a moment and used both my hands to massage him methodically, my lips pressed against his tip as I spilled saliva down his erection. His thighs tensed underneath me. After a moment, I moved my hands back down to hold his balls and dragged my lips and tongue along the top side of his shaft, my mouth lovingly rubbing against him. “Fuck, that feels good,” Henry whispered, “Can you keep doing that for a minute?”

I moaned my assent, my tongue gliding up and down his skin as my hands gently massaged his balls. He let out a few more whispered moans and curses. Each sound bolstered my ego and distracted me from my fluttering nerves, my attention fixating onto giving him pleasure. After a couple more licks, I took the tip of his cock in my mouth and stroked his shaft with one hand, my cheeks suctioning his sensitive head and my fingers tightening around his erection. He tangled his hand into my hair and pulled gently until I lifted my head. “I really don’t want to risk cumming in your mouth,” he admitted, his eyes flickering between mine and the road, “Can you jerk me with your hand and suck on my neck?”

“Yeah of course!”

I re-situated myself in my seat to be closer to him and pressed my tits against his arm, my hand massaging him slowly as I kissed from his cheek to his jawline and up to his ear before scraping my teeth against his earlobe and then kissing back down to where his neck meets his shoulder. His head rolled to the side to provide me with better access. “Faster and tighter,” he requested quietly.

My hand immediately followed Henry’s directions, my fingers grasping him tighter right around the tip as I jerked him quickly and roughly. For a moment, I hesitated to suck on his neck, but he pressed it against my mouth. He moaned encouragingly the moment I began sucking harshly, my eyes closed and my teeth scraping against him as I nibbled him intermittently and swiped my tongue against his soft, sweet skin. I moaned against his neck. He groaned a warning, his hips bucking up to meet my hand’s aggressive movements. My eyes opened in time to see a glimpse of cum erupting over the tip of his cock, spurts of it spraying up his sweatshirt and flowing over my clenched fist. I massaged him through his orgasm, releasing his neck to bite down on his earlobe. He let out a loud, satisfied moan, his breathing increasingly ragged as his cock released its final sprays of warm, thick cum. “There you go,” I whispered encouragingly in his ear, my hand slowing down and loosening its grip around the tip of his cock, which I knew from experience was always overly sensitive as soon as he came.

He took his eyes off the road for a moment to slam his lips against mine briefly, his teeth nibbling on my lower lip for a split second before retreating to allow him to watch the road again. “Fuck,” he laughed, “I wasn’t expecting that today.”

“You’re welcome for the offer,” I giggled.

I kissed his cheek once before grabbing the hand sanitizer and tissues from the glove box and attempting to clean the cum up from his sweatshirt and my hand. It was a sticky mess, so I did the best that I could. Henry offered to pull over so I could pour water from one of our reusable bottles over my hands, but I insisted that he continue driving with another “thanks for the offer, though.”

My nervousness was less severe when I settled back in my seat. For the remainder of the ride, we blasted an eclectic selection of pump-up jams by having me serve as the DJ and taking turns calling out artists.

The afternoon sun was still shining by the time we pulled into our driveway. Our house looked the same as when we left it two days prior, but it quite didn’t feel like home. Usually when I get back from a trip, it feels like when I was a kid and I’d come home after a long sleepover – comfortable and familiar but somehow a little hazy. On that New Year’s Day, everything was in sharp colors, and nothing was particularly comfortable.

Henry insisted on sending me ahead to check our bathroom cabinet while he carried all of our bags into the house. My heart pounded as I shook off my shoes in the mudroom and threw my jacket, scarf, and gloves on the ground, my heartbeat sliding up to my ears and pulsing behind my eyes while I leapt up the stairs to our bedroom’s en-suite bathroom. I washed my hands and took a deep inhale of my soap before opening the cabinet. There, in plain view of me and the Lord above and the ghosts that definitely haunted the creaky pipes under the sink, was an open box of pregnancy tests. I took out one, confirmed the expiration date had not passed, paused, and then took out the other remaining test. Henry walked up behind me as I finished unwrapping the two tests. “Oh thank GOD we had some on hand,” he exhaled in relief.

“I don’t have to pee,” I admitted.

He turned me around and placed a chaste kiss on my lips. “Go hop in the shower. I’ll bring you something to drink.”

I did as I was told, turning on the shower, stripping off the rest of my clothing, and tossing it all into the hamper before stepping over the rim of the tub. By the time I had pulled back my hair and soaped myself down, Henry was back in the bathroom. He handed me a disposable cup of water, waited while I chugged it, refilled it with water from the sink, handed it back to me, waited while I chugged that one too, and then placed the cup on the edge of the bathroom counter. “Can you join me?” I asked quietly.

He immediately shrugged off his clothes and stepped inside the shower, wrapping his arms around me and crushing me against his chest. My tits were still tender, but I couldn’t bring myself to give a shit. We held each other tightly, the water beating against my back and the bathroom filling up with steam. “We don’t have to check today,” he murmured, “We don’t have to check at all.”

“I want to.”

“Ok.”

He swayed us gently side-to-side. “You have a hickey, you know,” I murmured quietly.

“I spy with my little eye something that begins with H.”

We both giggled nervously. The minutes continued to tick by, but I had no idea for how long. Eventually, I turned off the shower, shivered nervously, and motioned for Henry to grab my towel. He wrapped me up in it and gave me a bear hug over the terry cloth, the warmth of his torso reaching me even through the thick fabric. With a gentle kiss to my cheek, he handed me the plastic cup and turned around to give me some privacy. I finished drying myself off and sat on the toilet. “Can you hum or sing or something? I’m a little performance-shy.”

He immediately burst into the intro for “Eye of the Tiger,” and the combination of his terrible singing and my giggles covered the sound of me filling the plastic cup. I set it down on the counter, cleaned up, flushed, and washed my hands by the time he turned to face me. We belted out the chorus together as we each took a test, unwrapped it, and removed the cap, Henry also grabbing his phone to set a timer. We dipped the tests for the required twenty seconds, our horrible singing cut short by his phone alarm going off. We both took a deep breath, and he set another timer for two minutes as I placed the tests flat on the counter with the result window facing up. And then he sprinted out of the bathroom. “Henry?” I called out, following him into our bedroom.

He sat on the bed, still wet from the shower, refusing to make eye contact with me. “I can’t just stand there staring at the timer.”

“I get it.”

I sat down next to him and held his hand. He looked over at me and leaned in slowly, waiting for me to meet him halfway. We kissed gently at first, but our motions quickly became more urgent. I bit down hard on his lower lip, and he groaned into my mouth as he knelt in front of me and spread my legs. Henry kissed down my body and dove his tongue into my pussy with such ferocity that it took my breath away, his lips nibbling at my labia and his tongue swiping viciously between my clit and the entrance to my vagina. He wrapped his arms under my thighs to pull me closer and suctioned his lips against my clit. My legs immediately began to shake. I tangled my fingers through his wet hair to pull him even harder against me, a clitoral orgasm growing and building and bubbling over to a breaking point as I heard the timer go off in the en-suite bathroom, my moans temporarily drowning out the sound of his marimba alarm.

We both panted hard as he kissed back up my body and then crashed his lips against mine. My fingertips dug into his back, and I pressed my body against his, Henry pulling us upright to crush me in a tight, desperate hug. I slowed our kisses and slid my hands over his shoulders to place them on his chest. He released me and took a step back, placing one final, soft, wistful kiss against my lips before sitting back down on the bed. I snapped my fingers and gave him dual finger guns before walking over to the en-suite bathroom to check on the tests, my stomach digesting a whole flock of butterflies even as Henry’s guffaws at my finger guns made me smile. “Are you coming?” I called over my shoulder.

“I don’t think I can. Thanks for the offer though.”

With a deep breath, I stood in front of the bathroom counter and looked down, my eyes glancing between the identical tests smiling up at me. My heart pounded in my chest. I picked one up in each hand and walked slowly back into the bedroom, Henry staring at me with wide eyes from his seat at the foot of the bed. I opened my mouth but couldn’t speak. “Lily?” he asked softly, his brow knit together and his hands clenched into fits with white knuckles.

“Um. I spy with my little eye something that starts with P.”

“You’re pregnant?”

“I was going to go with ‘positive test,’ but yeah. I’m pregnant. I’m fucking pregnant. As fuck.”

Henry burst into tears, his arms opened wide for me to stand in front of him. I dropped the tests on the floor and ran over to him, tackling him against the bed and burying my face in his neck. He peppered kisses on my cheeks and forehead and hair as we held each other. I couldn’t stop laughing, and Henry couldn’t stop crying, but then I started crying and he started laughing, and we just became a teary, giggly mess with light hiccups. “What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck,” I whispered as soon as my giggle-sobs subsided.

“This is so fucked up.”

“This is SO fucked up. Who ok’d us becoming parents?”

“We have to switch our New Year’s resolutions now,” he laughed.

“What was yours?”

“To impregnate the shit out of you. But now I have to, I don’t know, learn how to be a fucking dad?”

“Should I call you daddy to hep prepare you?”

“Please don’t.”

“Whatever you say, daddy.”

Henry faked gagged, which in turn made me real gag, my sensitive stomach betraying me. He burst into laughter again. “Well now I know what to threaten you with whenever you say that. Or do anything else annoying for the next almost nine months.”

“Maybe your New Year’s resolution should be to not be a piece of shit to your pregnant wife,” I muttered, holding a hand against my lower stomach and willing myself to not gag again.

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/s0p5r4/fm_new_year_new_us_had_some_big_changes_in