Our Surrogate

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It’s a fairly improbable scenario, but I had fun writing it.

Disclaimer: Themes of betrayal and adultery here. If not your thing, then best to avoid this story.



I met Rose fresh out of high school. We were both taking general education courses at our local community college, a throwaway year I suppose, while we figured out what we wanted from life. We both sat at the back of our essay writing class and spent the whole time flirting and occasionally getting in trouble from the doubtlessly underpaid and overworked English teacher.

I saw her slight build, long dark brown hair tied in a ponytail with a black scrunchie. awkward demeanor, and I was instantly smitten. She was pretty in a girl next door kind of way, the one you look at once and convince yourself you’re going to marry them. Which is what I did. We flirted for a couple weeks before I scrounged up the courage and asked her out.

For our first date, we went to the movies. She wanted to see Magic Mike XXL, and I was keen to please her so I of course said yes, and then sat there in stony silence while a parade of semi-nude and utterly ripped men danced around for two hours. Honestly, the movie wasn’t bad, but I came out of the movie with my confidence in the toilet. Rose must’ve seen the expression on my face because she turned to me and said, “You’re handsome,” propped herself on her tiptoes and gave me a kiss on the lips. Not a bad first date after all!

We walked on to a small coffee shop and sat there for three hours, talking about the movie, and then our lives. I told her about my older brother, Sam, who had been in and out of juvie, and who now lived in my parents’ attic smoking weed and almost trying to find work. Rose told me about her younger sister, Grace, whom she described as the jacked version of her. Where Rose was slight, Grace was big: Tall, big breasts, big hips. She showed me pictures, and there was an unmistakable family resemblance, even as their statures were so different. Same hair, same smile, same eyes.

From then on we were inseparable. We hung out every day at school, and went out together every weekend. She loved making out, and she had a devilishly long tongue, which I loved almost as much as her. Beyond making out, however, we were curiously chaste. After two months, we hadn’t gotten any further than second base.

Despite the lack of sex, things progressed great. She met my family, and they loved her. Even my brother Sam came down from the attic to meet her, and thankfully didn’t smell too much like pot. She was kind and charming as usual, and won them all over. I met her family, and we got on even better. Her mom thought I was the perfect gentleman, and her dad just loved that there was another car enthusiast to chat with. I wasn’t actually into cars, but before meeting him I boned up on his favourite car shows so we could bond. Grace and I were instant BFFs. We talked endlessly about movies (which I was ACTUALLY into, and not just pretending), and had a trove of in-jokes after knowing each other for only a few hours.

I left her parents’ house that night in high spirits, but Rose seemed particularly subdued.

I took her hand in mine as we walked.

“That was a good night,” I remarked, looking for an opening.

“It was,” Rose replied softly.

“What’s wrong? You seem… off,” I asked.

“Can we sit down for a minute?” Rose asked, and gestured to a bus stop bench.

My stomach clenched in knots as we walked over to the bench and sat down. Rose had the expression I’d seen before only once, on a girlfriend just before she made me an ex, combination of apprehension, fear, and sadness.

I gulped, a lump in my throat, “If you’re going to dump me, rip the band-aid off fast.”

Rose broke into a smile, “No, I’m not dumping you. Sean, I love you. I’m convinced you are the one for me. I’m just not convinced I’m the one for you.”

My fear turned to confusion, “I don’t understand.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Rose sighed, “I’ve been enjoying our relationship as it is so much that I was avoiding this step.” Rose took a deep breath, squeezed my hand, and continued: “I can’t have sex.”

I blanked for several seconds, “Sorry, what?” Tears started streaming down her cheeks.

“I can’t have sex, Sean. I am incapable of it,” she sniffed, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I have MRKH syndrome. It affects the uterus and genitals. Intercourse is extremely painful. Believe me, I have tried everything. It won’t even fit a pinkie finger.”

The months of making out suddenly made sense.

“There’s more, Sean,” she went on, “I have no menstrual cycle.” She paused to let it sink in, “I can’t have children.”

My world spun upside down. I was only eighteen, but I knew I always wanted to have children someday.

We sat on the bench holding hands for a long time. She went on into the details of her condition, describing it as “Mayer…” something something. I was only half listening. I was thinking about öğrenci gaziantep escort what I wanted for the future and trying to imagine that future without Rose. The fact was, I couldn’t.



I remember the feeling of terror deep within me when I confessed to Sean about my medical condition. I remember with fear the expression on his face as I revealed that sex, and children (for me), were off the table. His eyes got far away, like he had stopped listening to me. I pressed forward, as I feared I’d throw up from anxiety if I stopped talking, and then I’d never finish.

I finished saying my peace and then sat, eyes downcast, waiting for a reaction.

Sean took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and my stomach did a somersault. “I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through life with this condition. I’m sorry that you were afraid to tell me. I don’t know what the future holds for me, Rose, but I know you’re in it.”

I looked up into his eyes, at this moment the kindest eyes I’d ever seen. “I love you, Rose,” he said, “Whatever we have to do to make this work, we will do.”

I had found a keeper, for sure.


We got married shortly after finishing school. I studied nursing and Sean, to my father’s delight and to my and my sister’s endless amusement, ended up getting bitten by the automotive bug and became a mechanic. Turns out all those hours watching car shows sparked something long dormant. He got a good apprenticeship right out of trade school, and by the time I was done with my nursing program he had fast-tracked his apprenticeship into a great job.

We dated exclusively. There was never any question among our friends who was going to get married first. Everyone saw us as the perfect couple. And in 99% of ways we were. We laughed at the same jokes. We liked the same kinds of movies. Most importantly, we had similar life goals. We wanted to stay in our home town, buy a home, and raise a family. We just hadn’t figured out quite yet what that would look like.

Sexually, we tried absolutely everything we could try. I told him nothing was off the table apart from vaginal intercourse. We tried anal a couple of times, but it didn’t really do anything for me, and my disinterest turned him off. We did sexy role-play, we watched porn together. Mutual masturbation worked well, and we loved to sixty-nine. Those were our go-to ways to finish together.

But still I felt guilty. Guilty that Sean had never had intercourse, and never would. Guilty that Sean would not have biological children of my own, something I had long ago made peace with for myself.

So when I approached him with the idea of finding a surrogate, he was thrilled.

“Are you sure?” Sean asked me, concerned, “Are you certain you’d want to raise a child that’s not biologically your own?”

“I’ve had a lifetime to prepare for this possibility, Sean,” I reassured, “I want to raise a child with me, regardless of its DNA.”

Finding somebody willing to be a traditional surrogate was extremely difficult. A gestational surrogacy, where embryos are implanted, was extremely expensive, but traditional (where the surrogate mother’s own eggs are used) was just as challenging. The few women we talked to about it were concerned that the genetic bond would be too painful to give up after birth.

I finally vented to my sister about it, when she asked me about how the process was going. I confessed it wasn’t going well. Grace, ever generous, immediately volunteered.

“Why haven’t you asked me, Rose?” Grace rolled her eyes at me, and smacked me lightly in the back of the head, “I would have said yes instantly.”

“That’s why I didn’t ask you. I can’t ask you to do something like this because I know you would do anything for me. I need someone whom I can trust to say no.”

“Well, I’m not saying no. And I’m not taking no for an answer! I mean, look at these hips,” Grace stood up, put her hands on her hips, and swayed jovially back and forth, “These are breeding hips! Designed to pass a child!”

I laughed, “It’s true, your hips are mighty.”

“Yup, I could burp and pass a baby no problem,” Grace pooched out her belly as if she were pregnant. She slapped it playfully, “Easy peasy.”

I still resisted, “But you’ve never wanted children of your own, Grace. You want to put your body through that?”

“For you? I would do anything,” Grace smiled, “Besides, how cool would it be to have a mother/aunt and an aunt/mother?”

I nodded, “It would be nice to be related to my child by blood.”

“Plus, you can circumvent all the BS. No worrying about what the surrogate might be doing, because you know what I’m doing. Watching movies, sitting on my butt eating chocolate chip mint ice cream, and complaining about my swelling feet!” Grace grinned and clicked her heels together.

“Grace, I don’t know what to say,” I sniffed, as tears started welling in my eyes.

“Oh God, gaziantep öğrenci escort don’t cry, or I’ll start too.”

I threw my arms around my sister. “Thank you,” I whispered.



I arrived at Grace’s apartment, insemination kit in tow. She opened the door and was greeted in typical Grace fashion.

“Uncle/dad!” She exclaimed!

“Hey, just dad. Only you and Rose get cool double titles.”

“Fine fine,” She scowled, “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” We sat in her kitchen and gabbed about movies for half an hour, until our avoidant conversation well started to dry up.

“Soooo,” Grace said awkwardly, “Is that the kit?” She pointed to the bag I had brought.

“Uhh, yep,” I replied, equally awkwardly, “I think, uh, my deposit, goes in here.” I gestured to the syringe, “And then that goes inside, uh, this thingy.” There was a pink penis shaped hunk of ugly looking plastic.

Grace nodded, “OK, so do you want to use the bathroom to, you know, make the deposit?”

“I guess I should, unless you have a sauna in here somewhere?”

“Not today, no.”

I stood and picked up my bag. “I’ll be in the bathroom then.” I went in and locked the door. It was a tiny, like most one bedroom apartments.

“Your collection of porn magazines is terrible,” I joked through the door.

“Sorry, I lost them in my last apartment purge. They didn’t spark joy,” Grace joked, “I may have a National Geographic around here. Sometimes they’re good for a wank.”

“I’ll just use my phone, thanks, Grace.”

It was a slow and torturous twenty minutes to get myself to cum in that bathroom. Grace did me the favour of going to the kitchen and washing dishes loudly, but it was still an anxiety-provoking process. My wife was depending on me to follow through with this, and my penis responded by refusing to respond.

After I had finally coaxed an erection, I heard a tap on the door.

“How’s it going, tiger?”

“Unhelpful, Grace.”

Grace laughed, “I know, I’m sorry. I will be on the bed when you are ready.”

And with those few words, my libido suddenly had a focus. I pictured Grace lying on the bed, nude, legs splayed, gesturing for me to come to her. My balls tightened, I gasped quietly and filled the syringe with my sperm.

I hastily zipped myself up, and opened the bathroom door. “Got it!” I said triumphantly, and carried it to her bedroom. Grace was under the covers, still wearing a shirt.

“Good job! Glad you found inspiration!” She smiled slightly, “OK, gimme that syringe, I’ve got the pink penis right here.” I handed it over,, and she pulled the covers over her head, forming a tent.

“Get in there…” She said as she fumbled around under the covers. Suddenly, she pulled the covers back and looked expectantly at me, “You can go.”

“Of course,” I nodded like a fool, and left the bedroom, closing the door behind me. I stood just outside the door, curious. I could hear her fumbling and cursing. “Just… fuckin’… work.” She mumbled.

After a couple of minutes of waiting, Sean leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor.

Grace came out a couple of minutes later looking furious. She was also pantless. “This pink thing is a nightmare. So fucking uncomfortable, and I can’t get the syringe to work while it’s inside it.” I tried not to stare at her legs, which were covered to mid-thigh by her long nightshirt. And I really tried hard not to think about the fact that there was probably nothing on her under that shirt.

She tossed me the pink hunk of junk plastic, and went back into the bedroom with the syringe.

Another five minutes went by, when she emerged triumphant. “I got it!” She hollered, and held the syringe up high. Her arm lifted her shirt, and I caught a fleeting glimpse of a nest of hair. She hadn’t bothered to put her underwear back on. I quickly made and locked eye contact to avoid the temptation of checking out her downstairs again.

“Good job, Grace!” I held my hand up for a high five, and she obliged.

“Oh, fuck, wait,” she muttered, and leaned over. A trickle of my semen was running down her thigh.

“Shit, OK, I’m going to go lie down! Cool to let yourself out?” She raced back to the bed and flopped down, sliding a pillow under her ass, and inadvertently giving me another view of her pussy. I turned and faced away.

“Of course, I’ll get out of your hair.”

All the way home, my mind was consumed with thoughts of Grace and her tantalizing cunt that I had glimpsed twice. She had let me masturbate in the bathroom, and then she had injected my cum inside of her. My cock swelled as I remembered the stream of cum on her leg. FUCK…

Guilt welled up inside of me as I thought of Rose at home. It’s not her fault I’ve never had vaginal sex with a woman, I shouldn’t punish her by lusting after her sister.

I burst in the front door, determined to sweep away my lust and guilt with enthusiasm gaziantep öğrenci escort bayan for our future child. Rose was watching TV. “Day one is complete!” I proclaimed. Rose smiled, and got up to greet me. “It went OK? I mean, it wasn’t too awkward?”

“It was EXTREMELY awkward, but we managed it somehow,” I said proudly.

“My love, thank you,” Rose hugged me and kissed my cheek, “It’s amazing that this is actually happening.

“Yes,” I said, and my mind strayed back to Grace’s dribbling cunt. “Amazing.”



After my experience the first day, I was not looking forward to the insemination process. The insemination kits were expensive, and also, somehow, garbage. The first day, the PPP, my nickname for the Pink Plastic Penis, had been flimsily constructed, and uncomfortable as fuck. The syringe that was supposed to work in tandem with it didn’t connect properly, and then when I used the syringe on its own, the semen oozed out everywhere.

Fuck, the semen. That was so awkward. The smell of my brother-in-law’s semen was so fucking sex. I hoped and prayed he didn’t realize that the semen only oozed out of me because my vagina gushed with fluid from my arousal.

After he left I had propped up my hips on a cushion, and then masturbated until I came screaming.

And now today, I have to do it all again.

I showered, shaved my pits, and then trimmed my downstairs region, as if I was preparing for a date I anticipated going verrrrry well. As I groomed I wondered why I was bothering. I mean, I knew Sean had caught glimpses of my pussy yesterday, but he was too much of a gentleman to not look away at the sight.

I got out of the shower and looked at myself in the mirror. My breasts were large and heavy (looking forward later in life to all the back trouble), and my hips were wide. It was a body designed for motherhood, and I was always very proud of it, even if occasionally I would look wistfully at petite girls like my sister and feel a tinge of jealousy.

The door buzzed, reminding me that I had a guest coming and that I was buck naked. “Hang on!” I shouted, and ran to get my bathrobe. I opened the front door, and there was Sean, tall, handsome yet geeky Sean, with a lop-sided smile and a mop of hair that in the half decade I had known him he had NEVER known what to do with.

“Come in, come in! Sorry, just showered,” I apologized.

Sean looked flustered at the sight of me in my robe, and I realized that he had gotten an eyeful of cleavage. I pulled the top of my robe shut and turned to head to the bedroom. I tossed on my night shirt and a pair of loose shorts. I emerged to see Sean sitting at the table unpacking all of the insemination stuff.

“The PPP is a piece of crap,” I said, “I’ll just try to use the syringe today.”

“The PPP?” Sean asked.

“Pink Plastic Penis,” I clarified, “It’s garbage. I’ll see what I can do with the syringe, which is also garbage to tell you the truth.”

“Shit, and these things are expensive,” sighed Sean. “I guess I’d better get to it?”

“No time like the present, get your ass in the bathroom.”

He must’ve figured out the masturbation issue from yesterday because he emerged from the bathroom after less than five minutes, holding a fairly full syringe.

“You’re an all star!” I clapped him on the back, “How did you speed things up? Find your masturbation groove?” I asked.

“Uh yeah,” he mumbled, and I caught his eyes dart down between my legs. A shiver went up my spine, and I could feel my vagina getting moist.

“Well, kudos,” I tried to go to the limit with the buddy-buddy type chat, to bury the underlying tension. “Let’s do this.”

I snatched the syringe from him and went into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me.

Two minutes later, I was on my back on my bed, trying to manoeuvre the syringe inside me. The plunger just would not move.

I muttered and cursed to myself as I tried to get the plunger to push the semen out, but it wouldn’t. Even worse, the smell of the semen was already causing me to lubricate like crazy.

“Fuckity fuck fuck fuck,” I cursed.

“You OK in there?”

“No. The plunger has stopped working.”


“Just come in for a minute, would you? Tired of talking through the door.”

The door opened hesitantly, and a very hesitant Sean stepped inside. I was covered by the blanket and fumbling around with the syringe.

“I think I need your help, Sean.”

“What can I do?”

“It’s super awkward. I mean, really really awkward.”

“It’s already super awkward and I’m just standing in the doorway, so out with it.”

I told him I needed him to inject the sperm into me, and his eyes grew to saucers.

“I can’t get it done without you,” I pleaded, “Just help me out.”

“OK, I’ll do what I can,” Sean said. I could see beads of sweat start to form on his forehead.

Sean sat on the edge of the bed, and I carefully withdrew the blanket covering my bottom half. Sean stared at my pussy, leaking already from how turned on I was, a syringe tip sticking inside.

“OK,” Sean breathed huskily, “What do I do?”

“I need you to take the syringe, insert it a little further inside me, and then depress the plunger. I can’t get it to work.”

Sean’s hands were visibly shaking as he reached out. When he touched the syringe, my whole body shuddered.

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