Two years ago, precisely six months after I married my husband, his step father Ian, a wonderful man who'd brought my husband up alone since he was two, told us he had incurable cancer. About two months later with my husband working away overnight, I got an unexpected text from Ian asking if he could pop over (He lived across the street).
Sat listening to some of the heart breaking things Ian was saying, about missing out on grand kids, watching us and them grow as a family, I cried like a baby. Then all of a sudden Ian changed the subject. He firstly told me just how long he had left, and not to tell his son (He never once called my husband his "Step son") know how long. Then looking directly into my eyes, Ian asked me if I'd consider giving him sexual pleasure, just one last time for him.
He stood up straight away and told me to think about it, and was about to walk out. But strangely I didn't need to think about it. I knew if it wasn't one of his dying wishes, he'd never ask. I also knew he'd never hire a hooker. So when I asked Ian to turn around, I'd already removed my top and skirt.
The sex we had over the next hour, was some of the best sex I'd ever experienced. Ian was such an understanding lover and being very well endowed, he soon had me wondering why he hadn't re married. By the time we sat together naked in front of the fire sipping coffee, I'd orgasmed three times and Ian had cum inside me twice.
The funeral took place five weeks later, a fortnight after that I told my husband I was pregnant. The timings were correct, but then my husband the very next day after returning home (The night after Ian and I had sex), got emotional. And we ended up having long slow sex on the very spot I'd had sex with Ian the evening before. With it being Ian's wish and his passing, I have never said a thing. Our son does look like my husband in every way, but, well he reminds me of Ian the older he gets. It's got to the point, as to whether I'm going to tell my husband about everything, or forever keep my peace.