Countdown to Conception's Embrace

The sterile scent of the clinic hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the clinical detachment required for our predicament. My wife, Sarah, sat beside me, her hand resting lightly on my knee, a silent reassurance amidst the rising tension. We’d been meticulously adhering to the two to five day abstinence protocol, a frustrating dance between desire and control, all for the sake of a chance at parenthood. The timing was critical, and this month, our ovulation had been delayed, pushing our window of opportunity further out. It had fueled an eagerness within me that bordered on desperation.

“You seem particularly anxious tonight,” Sarah murmured, her voice soft against my ear. “It’s alright. We’re doing everything we can.”

I swallowed hard, trying to mask the heat building within me. The thought of the doctor’s approval, the promise of a healthy pregnancy, propelled me forward, but the restriction itself felt like a cruel tease. Then, a playful glint appeared in her eyes, and she leaned in close, whispering, “Do you want a little help?”

The question hung in the air, laced with an unspoken invitation. My breath hitched. The truth was, I did. The frustration, the constant waiting, had built a delicious tension that demanded release. But the fear of jeopardizing our chances, the meticulous planning we’d undertaken, held me back. “Hmmm…I’m not sure we’re allowed to do that,” I replied, my voice slightly strained.

Sarah’s smile widened, a silent challenge. “Well, I don’t see why my hand is any different from yours,” she countered, her voice dripping with amusement. There was no denying the logic of her words, and a tremor of anticipation ran through me. She sauntered closer, her movements deliberate and seductive, her gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. She began to lick her lips, a slow, deliberate action that ignited a cascade of images in my mind – our honeymoon in Bali, the sun-drenched beaches, the intoxicating scent of exotic flowers, the feel of her skin against mine.

“You can’t do THAT,” I protested, a flicker of panic rising within me. But the heat was already building, the restraints dissolving under the sheer force of her presence.

“I can make you think about it, though,” she whispered, leaning even closer, her breath warm against my ear. “And thinking, my dear, can be quite stimulating.”

“Oh, I’ve been thinking about that for two to five days,” I admitted, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. A wave of pleasure washed over me, a potent cocktail of lust and anticipation.

She laughed, a melodious sound that sent a jolt of electricity through my body. She knelt before me, her movements fluid and graceful, her hand reaching out to capture mine. As she clasped my hands together, a primal instinct took over, and I braced myself for the inevitable.

Her hands, cool against my heated skin, began to explore my body, her touch light and teasing at first, then growing more insistent. She started licking my chest, her tongue tracing the contours of my nipples, sending shivers down my spine. The scent of vanilla lotion clung to her skin, a subtle reminder of our shared intimacy. Her eyes, dark and alluring, held me captive, feeding my desire with every glance.

“Wait – stop,” I managed to say, struggling to maintain control. She paused, her eyes questioning, and I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. “Nothing. It’s…perfect. I just want to have some more time to build up a little pressure,” I explained, my voice a low murmur. “That’ll improve our chances.”

Her lips curved into a knowing smile. She stood up, stepping back from me, and began to circle slowly, rubbing her breasts against my back, her touch both gentle and insistent. She kissed my ears, her breath warm and fragrant, and told me she loved me, her words a sweet poison that fueled my arousal.

After a few minutes, the pressure had reached its peak, and I felt a surge of overwhelming pleasure. “Break’s over. Back to work,” I groaned, unable to resist any longer.

“Happily, boss,” she replied, her voice laced with playful arrogance. This time, her method was different, more psychological, more suggestive, less direct, and infinitely more sensual. She took my hand and began to caress the fronts of my thighs, her touch both gentle and deliberate. The sensation was exquisite, sending waves of heat through my body. She had to do something else with her hands, a secret pleasure she wasn't sharing. The breath – and the mental imagery – ignited my senses, and soon I throbbed, plum and red and pink.

“You better be ready to get that sample cup,” I warned, my voice strained. There would be no more stopping.

Her hands warmed again by the rubbing my thighs, she now caressed me, squeezed me, rubbed me. I felt like my whole body was there in her hands, and I loved the feeling of trust and abandonment to her. Knowing her husband’s body, she knew when it was time to take one hand away to collect the sample in the cup.

Stroking and squeezing with one hand, holding the cup in place with the other, she kept her eyes locked on mine as I gave my seed. It felt like it would never end, and she made me wish that feeling were true. After I finished, she made sure to collect it all. She put the cap on the cup and stood.

“Oops, we can’t go to the doctor with you like that,” she said, her voice filled with amusement. She knelt back down, pulling up my shorts, and just before letting go of the waistband, gave me a short, playful kiss, then a longer, more encompassing one, more passionate than the first. Then she pulled up my pants and zipped, buttoned and belted them.

She stood, a triumphant expression on her face, and we kissed long, deep, like we hadn’t kissed in a little while. The urgency in our embrace was palpable, a desperate plea for connection amidst the sterile environment.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, cheekily. “I hope your donation to the cause leads to a successful conception.”

“My pleasure, ma’am,” I nearly stumbled, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. “Maybe you’d better drive to the doctor’s.”

As we left the clinic, the cool evening air felt both refreshing and exhilarating. The successful collection of the sample, thanks to her intervention, had not only satisfied my primal urges but had also strengthened our bond, a testament to the power of shared desire and mutual trust. The doctor's report confirmed her suspicions - an excellent sample, full of vitality and promise. As we drove, Sarah leaned her head on my shoulder, a silent celebration of our victory. The future, once uncertain, now held the tantalizing possibility of a beautiful, healthy child. The two to five day abstinence protocol had been a challenge, but it had ultimately served its purpose, proving that sometimes, a little bit of help can go a long way.

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Countdown to Conception's Embrace

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