Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 An Innocent Mistake-2 by RedBud

   [The first part of this story can be found at my author's page, if
you're curious.  I've been asked by several readers to write a sequel &
because flattery will get you everywhere, here it is.]

   Lisa wanted to say something.  Anything.

   Sheila lowered her eyes and moved passed her to the toilet.

   "I'm so sorry!" Lisa whispered.

   Sheila didn't answer.  Pee and sperm dripped out of her body (and not
her husband's sperm).  She knew enough to know it was too late to try and
clean Larry's cum out of her.  She was angry.  She was angry at her own
stupidity.  She was angry at Lisa.  She was angry at Larry.  She wanted to
throw up.  She had sucked him and swallowed his cum.  She had taken his cum
between her legs.  Her belly, above and below, was full of him.  She felt
helpless.  She felt detached from her body.  What would happen to the sperm
inside her?  She couldn't control it.  She spun around and threw up in the
toilet.

   "O my God!" Lisa whispered.

   Sheila felt Lisa's hand on her back, she pushed it away, still bent over
the toilet.

   "O my God..." Lisa whispered again.

   And then, maybe, the realization struck them both.  Morning sickness. 
Lisa moved behind her and turned on the shower.  She helped Sheila to stand
and guided her into the shower.  Sheila slipped.  Lisa caught her.

   "I had no idea..." Lisa said.

   "I know."

   "Please," Lisa placed her hand Sheila's arm, "don't be angry at me.  You
know I didn't mean for this to happen."

   "And I did?"

   "No," Lisa answered, "that's not what I meant."

   "I'm the swinger," Sheila shook.  "Yeah, my husband's the wife swapper.
I got what was coming to me."

   "No, no, no," Lisa begged.  "I just...  I didn't know.  I thought it was
Larry, you know?  - inside me, when we were having sex."

   "Lisa!" Sheila turned on her, glaring and trying not to sob.  "What if
I'm pregnant?  I can't...  you know.  I don't believe in stopping it.  I'll
have it."

   "You..." Lisa bit her lip, wiping at her eyes.  "It will work out."

   Sheila turned, holding her face in the shower, she cleaned herself off.
Lisa leaned back against the counter top, pushing her hands through her
hair.  She watched Sheila through the speckled glass of the shower doors.
She was beautiful.  She was her best friend.  She desperately wanted to
turn back the clock.  When Sheila got out and wrapped a towel around
herself, Lisa blurted: "Are you going to tell him?"

   Sheila paused.  "I don't know."

   "Tell me," Lisa returned.  "Tell me first, please.  If you do.  Before
you do."

   "Ok," Sheila said quietly.  "And you?"

   "I don't know."

   Sheila bit her lips, gazed at the ceiling, nodded, and hurried out the
door.

   Lisa restarted the shower.  Even as she stepped over the lip of the tub,
Paul's cum dripped out of her.  She was soaked.  She had never had cum in
her before, and now the feeling of it inside her, slowly dripping out of
her belly, a warm and sticky reminder of what had been in her belly,
momentarily aroused her.  If only she could have enjoyed it.

   The bathroom door opened.  It was Larry.  He was wearing a shirt,
carrying his boxer shorts.  He looked at Lisa and the shower and smiled
before he peed in the toilet.  Lisa smiled back, forcing herself to smile.
He was looking at her.  Her slender 22 year old body was glistening with
water.  Her ass was smooth and round.  Her tits were flushed under the hot
water.  The last of the pee dribbled out of him.  His cock was hardening,
rising up from his hand.  She loved men's cocks.  She loved seeing them
rise at the sight of her body, displaying their arousal.  He took off his
shirt and stepped into the shower and then an awful thought stirred her
belly.

   This was the man that had impregnated her best friend.  He seemed all
the more masculine to her, all the more worth competing for.  She should
have pushed him away.  Now wasn't the time.  But when he stepped behind
her, pressed his cock into the parting curves of her ass, and squeezed her
breasts and nipples, she leaned her head back against his shoulder and
arched her pussy back, offering herself.  She groaned.  He slipped into her
easily, already soaked with Paul's cum.  His full length smoothly pushing
deeply inside her flat stomach.  Yes, she wanted `his' cum inside her.

   He didn't waste time.  His strokes were smooth, silken and regular.  She
kept her eyes closed, kept her head back against his shoulder, allowing the
warm water to cascade between her breasts and down the muscular crease of
her abdomen.  She heard him shudder and another warm liquid poured into her
belly.  She could feel it...  she...  O...  she exhaled and came, her back
arching softly with each spasm.  She felt beautiful and feminine as warmth
and liquid cascaded around her and inside her, cleaning and filling her
again.

   Larry licked her neck.  "My God," he whispered.  "You are the most
beautiful woman I have ever seen."

   Lisa breathed, her heart aflutter.  "Did you..." she hesitated...  "did
you like what happened last night?"

   "I loved it," he said.

   "I mean..." she said quietly, nervously.  "Doing it...  with them?"

   He softly bit her shoulder.  "It turned me on."

   "Really?"

   "Didn't it turn you on?" he asked.

   Lisa hesitated.  "Yes..." she quietly answered and pushed herself down
on the tumid cock still inside her.  "It did." Maybe she didn't know
everything there was to know about him.

   "You thought I wouldn't like it?" he asked.

   "I didn't know," she answered.  "I mean, I thought `I' wouldn't like
it."

   Lisa and Larry left Sheila and Paul alone.  They went to find breakfast,
and maybe bring some back.  Sheila was dressed, tights, a skirt and long
sleeve cotton with short sleeves over top.  The green shirt fit tight,
showing off her perky breasts and flat stomach.  Paul noticed.  He was
still in bed, his flannels on, and he was gently squeezing the tip of his
cock under the sheets.  It poked through his bottoms.  She was packing
their backpack on the hotel room desk, her back to him.  He was almost
always hard the morning.  "I know I can't wait until tonight..."

   "Lisa and Larry are coming back," Sheila answered quietly, without
turning.  "They're bringing breakfast."

   "I don't mind," he said.

   "I just showered," she answered.

   "I'll make sure it goes inside you," Paul answered.  "Where nobody will
see."

   Sheila ran her hands through her hair, as if trying to remember what she
meant to do next.

   "I want to pump you full," Paul smiled.  "And maybe put something else
in that soft little belly."

   "There..." She stopped herself.  She almost said: There already `is'
something...  But she stopped herself.  Maybe there wasn't.  Maybe there
was still time.  She controlled her body, right?  She would fill it.  She
would decide what would begin the fertilization of her sex.  She had other
reasons to throw up.  She felt dizzy.

   "I'm so hard," Paul crooned.  "You just sit right her.  Put your knees
right here." He patted the mattress to either side of his hips.  "Hold your
tight pussy right here." He held up his hands, as if he were holding her by
the hips over his cock.  He lowered his hands.  "Just like this," he
groaned.  "And see what goes up into that tight little opening of yours."

   Sheila had turned, her breath quickening.  Maybe there was time.  She
bent and pushed off her tights, hurrying.  She left her skirt and top on.
She half ran to the bed and quickly straddled Paul.  She held his cock
under her, straight up, pointing to the perfect division between her legs,
and she lowered herself.  "Uhhnn!" She pushed down, driving deeply into
her. Yes, she wanted him as deep as he would go.  She needed him against
her womb.  He groaned and she brushed his lips with her hands.  Up and
down. Quick.  She needed his juices.  She would get it, extract it, oh...
she grunted as she bumped her cervix.

   Her skirt covered her to her knees and covered his belly and upper legs.
Her tight shirts were still on but her nipples were poking against the
fabric.  He pinched them through the shirt and she gasped, grinding her
impaled sex against his groin.  To Paul, there was something especially
sexy about fucking a woman like this.  He couldn't see their union, but he
could feel it.  He loved looking at her green shirt curving tightly around
her waist and flat stomach, knowing that underneath her civility, there was
pornography.  There was a cock stretching the lips of her opening tightly
around itself.  Underneath the rainbow prints of her skirt, there were the
sounds of her abandonment: fluid, slippery, wet, soaking the cock inside
her.

   Behind the taut shirt covering her belly, just behind the smooth divot
that signaled her belly button - clean, dry, presentable - she was split by
the bulbous tip of a cock - huge, full and pornographically ready.  If they
were in a park, and he were fully dressed, who would know what was going on
between her hips, behind the flat of her belly?  Who would guess that
string after string of sperm was about to spurt deeply inside her, filling
her belly, juicing it and mixing so obscenely and richly with her own
fluids?

   Sheila threw her head back, groaning.  She no longer road him up and
down.  One of her hands was behind her, on his leg, the other on his
muscular abdomen.  She ground her divide, the impaled place between her
opened legs, hard against him, gasping at the feeling of his rigidity, like
an another organ, opening her widely at her base, the cause of her soft
gasps and cries, and rising through the core and middle of her body, deeply
into its center.  Paul envied her that feeling, something only a woman will
know.  What is it like to be penetrated?  - he wondered.  What is it like
to have another human being's arousal so present and rigid inside the soft
warmth of ones body?

   "Do it," she gasped, her eyes closed.  He felt his cum rising, drawn out
of her by the ceaseless massage of her movements.  Her breaths were almost
wheezes.  "Do it!"

   He heard the door to the bedroom open.  Sheila didn't stop, only ground
harder, more subtly, against him.  Larry and Lisa couldn't see anything -
just Paul in his flannels and Sheila's slender calves to either side of
him, half covered by her skirt, one foot covered by a white sheet.  Her
hips were pivoting and rocking against his pelvis.  But they knew what was
happening, what was inside her.  The smell of eggs and bacon filled the
room.  Larry smiled.  Lisa hesitated when she saw them, but when Sheila
didn't stop, when Sheila turned and gazed and Lisa, she quickly walked to
the bedside, sat, and gently put her hand on Sheila's flat belly.  "Yes,"
she said.  "Go ahead."

   Sheila's eyes grew heavy, her mouth opened.  Her watery motion never
stopped.  She held her breath, let it out, held her breath, and then Lisa's
mouth covered hers, her other hand at the nape of Sheila's neck.  Paul
groaned, lifting his midriff hard up between and into Sheila's open legs.
He threw his head back and shouted as convulsed with each spurt.  Christ,
he would never wear a condom again.  Nothing felt as good as the moist
warmth massaging his cock.  Nothing felt as good as releasing his orgasm
into it.

   Sheila's eyes rolled back.  Lisa's kiss continued, a hand against the
tight shirt of her stomach, the other at the nape of her neck.  Lisa could
almost feel Paul's rhythmic release deep inside and behind the taut muscles
of her abdomen.  And then she felt something else - the staccato clenching
of Sheila's stomach muscles as they orgasmed around their impalement. 
Sheila moaned into Lisa's kiss.  She wanted all of Paul's masculine release
- the fertilization of her sex.  She ground herself against him, rubbing
the nub of him against the deepest part of her body, grunting with the feel
of every spurt and drop that entered her.

   And then, finally, she exhaled, relaxing, her still filled opening warm
and syrupy.

   And then, perhaps for a moment, both men had an inkling that there was
something more going on between the women - something they didn't know. 
They held each other tightly, unmoving, with more than just the sensual
drowsiness of an orgasm.