Let me knock you up! You want me to get you pregnant?! I can picture the whole process... My penis slides out of your cute, round ass, leaving my seed behind. For the first few months, you go on with life as usual; a little bump starts to show, but you keep working, exercising, and doing simple things—getting dressed, cooking, bathing, or just walking around with your belly, totally relaxed. As the months go by, those things get harder, and you eventually stop doing some of them, like working out. One day you wake up a different person; that cute ass where the fluid that changed your life entered is now bigger, your hips have widened, and your back aches as if it’s about to snap. The most amazing thing is the belly—in those final nights, it grew in sudden spurts; the skin is stretching, and my baby is so big now that you’re getting stretch marks—big ones, the kind creams can't fix. You’re pregnant, but neither of us has lost that dirty, depraved edge; you’re on top, bouncing non-stop. Judging by the size of your belly, you’re seven months along, but your huge breasts are full of milk, suggesting you might be ready to give birth any moment. Your bouncing belly slams against my abdomen; we’re going at it so hard that I see your navel go *pop* right before my eyes, bulging outward, dark and distorted. At twenty-one, it’s a shame you’re already pregnant—you had a perfect ass and waist—but I just couldn't help myself! You turn twenty-two right at the nine-month mark—haha, you can barely blow out the candles. I have to help you walk into the living room where your parents are waiting so you can celebrate; your belly is the star of the party—you’re exhausted, your face is puffy, you’re chubby, tired, and about to give birth. Since you’re such a little slut, the moment everyone leaves, we go for one last round! And then—here comes our first baby!
After a couple of months—bam!—following one lovely night, the twins were on the way! Your belly grew faster and, obviously, got much bigger; plus, we had a baby to look after. The months flew by, and you turned me on more and more; it was a huge turn-on seeing you about to burst while also caring for our baby—nursing him with those enormous breasts, your body surging with hormones after having given birth less than a year prior and now carrying multiples. It was my mistake to insist on sex during the seventh month; you looked so beautiful I just couldn't stop myself. I went at it so hard that I broke your water within five minutes! Luckily, the babies turned out fine. At twenty-three with three babies, that body was a pregnancy machine—and what an ass, man! It was wild, but we had to slow down a bit. So, five years went by without another pregnancy; at twenty-eight, we decided to open up the factory again, and that same beautiful ass—though a bit fuller and more mature—welcomed the seed once more.
