Surrogate Family

At 55, I had just remarried following a lengthy and messy divorce. I guess neither of us were really to blame, just after 30 years of marriage and the kids having flown the nest, we had found those irreconcilable differences that precipitate many divorces. I had subsequently found and married a wonderful and very attractive 36-year-old divorcee, Stella, and embraced her then 14-year-old daughter, Sandy, as my own. Two years later, we were both in pretty good shape for our ages, Stella would and would often work out at the local gym, although Stella was more into aerobics and yoga, and I more into weights, although we often enjoyed a run together and we both naturally enjoyed a healthy sex life. Stella had a great figure, not stick-thin, but a long way from being chubby, with nicely toned muscles and well-shaped 36C breasts. Stella worked as helper at a local day-care center and always enjoyed being surrounded by children, which I considered as a vocation. As much as I loved kids, I didn’t have the endless reserves of patience such a job called for. I was much happier working as a professional photographer. In fact, that’s how we first met, when I was called to do a photo-shoot of the day-care center for some publicity material.

Sandy was adorable, a sweet, caring girl, with a slender figure with chest-length light brown naturally wavy hair and matching light brown eyes. In so many ways, she was a little clone of her mother. I was lucky in that she quickly warmed to me, as her natural father had to all accounts, been a bit of a drunken slob, who was frequently abusive to her mother, so she had evolved to be quite protective of her mother. Fortunately, his abuse had not progressed too far before Stella determined to divorce. Actually, I learned later that my being accepted by Sandy had been a determining factor in whether Stella agreed to marry me or not.

Aside from her former husband’s abusive nature, I had wondered why Stella did not have any other children. It transpired that she had experienced a complication during her pregnancy with Sandy, which meant she could no longer have children. This had been disappointing news and as our relationship progressed, both Stella and I wished we could have had a child together. We discussed adoption, which was a complicated process, and finding a surrogate, was not only complex, with significant risk, but was also prohibitively expensive even given our combined salaries, amounting to over $100,000, taking account of the surrogate, the agency, legal fees, and medical bills, which we both agreed would be better invested in Sandy’s college fund.

We had just finished making love one night and were snuggled together in bed, when Stella broached the subject yet again, of how much she wanted a child as a symbol of our love for each other that would carry forward long after we both left this earth.

I agreed that I would have loved to have a child with her and how much it saddened me that we couldn’t but how it came down to the former discussions that we simply couldn’t afford to go down the surrogacy route.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about how we could have a baby and I’ve got an idea, but it’s not exactly orthodox and it might not even be workable” she said hesitantly and was almost reluctant to expand on her thoughts.

“go on…”, I said, listening attentively and trying to get her to open up about her idea.

“Well… what if I could persuade Sandy to be the surrogate?”

I was shocked and puzzled, curious about exactly what she was meaning.

“But she’s only 16 and she’s got school, what about her studies, what about the medical procedures involved in fertilizing and implanting and egg…?”

A seemingly endless list of impossibilities and impediments filled my head that would make Stella’s suggestion a non-starter aside from the moral implications and impact on Sandy’s life. Stella continued, clearly, she had been expecting my reaction and had already contemplated about these things too.

“well, I could give up my job for now and home-school her, even with the loss of income, that would still work out cheaper over the nine months than I would earn… besides, even if we found a suitable surrogate through an agency, the mother would have nothing to do with the baby later and that’s emotionally risky for her and can be full of complications, but if Sandy carried our baby, she would always have the baby as part of her life, even if only as a sister to it”.

“But what about the medical costs?” I was pretty convinced that Stella was on something and wasn’t thinking clearly.

She paused for the longest time, in silence. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head about how best to broach her answer to this question. Eventually though, she braced herself and continued.

“well, I thought maybe we could help Sandy to conceive naturally” She emphasized the word “naturally”, looking down as she said it.

I puzzled at her answer, unsure whether she actually meant what I was thinking she was meaning.

“Do you mean…”, it was my turn to hesitate “…that I should have sex with Sandy?”

Again, Stella took her time as if thinking about my question and hesitating to answer directly.

“Yes”

I was speechless, dumbfounded. I had never seriously looked at Sandy in that way and my own moral self-control prevented my thoughts from venturing too far, even when I had seen her in a skimpy bikini. She was just 16, still retaining a somewhat boyish figure with small breasts, no bigger than a B-cup and as far as I knew, was still a virgin as I’d never known her to yet have a boyfriend. I think her experience observing the abusive nature of her father had somehow deterred her a bit from getting too close to boys. Yet here was her mother suggesting that I fuck her.

“That’s never going to fly Stella, firstly I am more than three times her age, morally that would be so wrong, and I doubt seriously that she would ever agree to such a thing; it might even alienate her from you or drive a wedge between you”

Even though Sandy was my stepdaughter, my protective parental mind was firing on all cylinders and was quite dismissive of the whole idea, as well as the inappropriate moral aspect of what Stella was suggesting, besides the fact that I was long past the time where I could even be considered remotely attractive to a young 16-year-old.

Stella continued “but what if I could persuade her, would you be willing to?”

“I guess… if that’s something you really want… and she agrees”, I responded, not taking her suggestion seriously. I almost thought it was a trick question designed to see if I was perving her daughter.

“You see, Sandy already mentioned to me that she knew how much i wanted a child and wished she could help… at the time we both recognized there was nothing she could actually do, but I’ve been thinking about this for a while, ever since she mentioned that”

Stella seemed quite focused on her mission and deadly serious about her wish. We settled down ready for sleep, Stella not saying more about it. My mind however was in turmoil with the rights, wrongs, risks, and impracticalities of what she had just proposed. My body though did not miss the prospect of having sex with a 16 year old virgin and I developed an erection, something unusual so soon after having made love with Stella.

Nothing much happened for the next month apart from the usual sporadic outbursts that occur between mother and a teenage girl, often accompanied by slamming doors. I figured that Stella had either had the suggestion rejected or had dismissed the idea herself. One thing did change though, and that is that I now saw Sandy in a different light; no longer innocently and dismissively seeing her as a somewhat boyish teen, instead noticing how attractive she was, with her pretty face and beautiful long hair, her small developing breasts. I found myself wondering what it would be like to be a 17-year-old boy taking her out on a date.

A couple of weeks later, we were nestled in bed together when she broached the subject again.

“She agreed” was all she said, simple, to the point, no introduction necessary. My mind whirled and our family relationship suddenly became a whole lot more complicated.

“I see” was the only response I could muster in that moment

We remained silently together for several more minutes.

“When? … how?” I eventually asked

“She’s going to let us know when she thinks she’s fertile”

“I mean, how am I supposed to do this?”

Stella pondered my question for a several moments before responding

“I have been thinking about this… I wondered whether to just let you spend the night with her, but… I think it would be nice if I could be present, to be part of the conception”

“I see”, I said somewhat dispassionately, still not fully grasping the implications of whatever scenario was going to end up with my stepdaughter getting pregnant with my child.

“What if she doesn’t take the first time?” I asked

“I thought about that too… I think we should repeat this over several nights… to be sure”, Stella responded, gaining more confidence.

“OK”

My answers were in hindsight, pretty lame, my head was preoccupied with a million thoughts, but my cock was growing hard at the prospect.

The next day, neither Sandy nor I could make eye contact with each other.