You're Gonna Get Me Pregnant
The moment I felt his bare cock glide between the walls of my slippery sex, I knew there was no going back. The rational, logical side of my brain was urging me to protest the fact that I was an orgasm away from becoming a teenage mother, but the horny as fuck part of my brain won out, wrapping my legs around my boyfriend’s waist in order to draw him in deeper.
“Are you gonna cum inside me?” I asked meekly, hoping that one of us retained a measure of self-control.
“Uh huh,” he grunted. So much for that.
“You know I’m not on the pill, right?” I protested. Despite my pleas, I made no effort to move off of him, rather I ground down harder, squeezing tight around his thick shaft. If I was going to risk getting pregnant, I was damn sure going to enjoy it.
“I believe you mentioned it, yes,” he said with a smirk, kissing me deeply. Fuck, why did this have to feel so good?
“You’re gonna get me pregnant,” I whined.
“That’s the idea,” he grunted, thrusting deep inside me.
“I’m too young to have a baby,” I moaned, no longer sure who I was trying to convince.
“You’re eighteen,” he replied.
“I’m just out of college,” I argued.
“So? You wouldn’t be the only pregnant girl your age. Plus, then you’ll get to be a young, hot, teen mum. I’m telling you, getting pregnant young will pay off,” he insisted.
He wasn’t wrong there. At least a dozen of my classmates sported baby bumps of their own. I couldn’t help but wonder what it was like, feeling your baby kicking it’s way to life inside you.
“People will think I’m a slut. One of those stupid girls who can’t keep her legs closed and got herself knocked up,” I murmured.
“I’ll make you a deal. If you don’t cum before I do, I’ll pull out,” he said, kissing me again as he picked up the pace, fucking me faster, harder, and deeper.
“That’s so not fair. I’m already so close,” I moaned.
“You’ll just have to resist,” he teased.
“I can’t,” I whimpered, biting my lip.
“Sure you can. If you don’t, you’re gonna feel my cock exploding inside you, filling you up with cum,” he murmured. He slid his full length inside, then consciously forced his dick to jerk inside me, giving me a delightful preview.
“No fair,” I groaned. There was nothing I could do. I was gonna cum, and then so was he, and then I’d get to spend my senior year in maternity clothes.
“Think about that cute little belly of yours swelling up as our baby grows inside you,” he said earnestly, his strokes turning hard and deliberate.
“It’s too much,” I cried. He wasn’t just screwing me bareback for kicks. My boyfriend was actively trying to fuck me pregnant.
“And that’s just for starters. I intend to knock you up over and over again,” he said proudly, looking me straight in the eye, taking my hand into his own.
I lost it. My mind was awash of hormones and ecstasy, the idea of him taking me in hand, making me pregnant, blew all my doubts and fears out of the water. “I’m gonna cum,” I screamed.
“Me too.”
“Oh fuck!”
The world exploded as I felt his seed spurt inside my fertile womb. I have no idea how long we stayed there. His cock was limp when it finally slipped out of me. The last thing I remember about that night was putting a pillow under my ass, making sure that none of his sperm escaped my wonderfully fucked pussy.
-
Eight months later he was fucking me bareback once again. This time I was on top, a practical necessity of my condition. My swollen breasts sat on top of my even more swollen belly, which gyrated obscenely as I rode his cock.
“You know, I’m really glad you talked me into having a baby. I never thought I would feel this way, but now that she’s inside me, I can’t imagine being without her,” I cooed, rubbing my belly as I savoured the waves of pleasure.
“You think it’s a girl?” my boyfriend asked curiously.
I shrugged, panting as my first orgasm of the evening started to build. “I dunno,” I sighed. “Just a feeling.”
-
Nineteen years later, I felt the ever comforting and familiar presence of my husband’s bare cock slipping inside my dripping cunt. The practical side of my mind reminded me I already had fifteen children, and that while money was no issue, maybe I ought to quit while I’m ahead. The side of my mind that needed a good fucking won out, bringing his hand to my milk laden breast as I ground my ass against his pelvis.
“Are you gonna cum inside me?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“I always do,” he smirked, kissing the back of my neck. Of course.
“You know I’m ovulating, right?” It wasn’t like we scheduled our lovemaking around my biological clock or anything, but he did make a point to fill me with cum when I was ripe for breeding. I rubbed my clit as he started to thrust. If I was getting pregnant again, I intended to cum hard.
“I’m aware of that, yes,” he said, squeezing my breast. Fuck, why did I love being bred so much?
“You’re gonna get me pregnant. Again,” I moaned, pointing out the obvious.
“That’s the idea,” he said simply.
“I’m too old to have a baby,” I moaned, knowing full well that neither of us cared.
“You’re thirty-seven,” he replied.
“My oldest daughter’s a in high school. And pregnant herself I might add,” I argued.
“So you won’t be the only pregnant girl in the family. Plus, you’ll get to be a sexy mum and a hot grandma at the same time. I told you getting pregnant at eighteen would pay off,” he said confidently.
He wasn’t wrong there. Many of my friends sported baby bumps of their own. I couldn’t help but remember what it was like, feeling your baby kicking it’s way to life inside you.
“People will think I’m a nut. One of those religious wackos that thinks Jesus wants them to stay knocked up,” I complained.
“I’ll make you a deal. If you don’t cum before I do, I’ll pull out,” he offered, kneading my breast, drawing a warm jet of milk into his palm.
“That’s not fair. You’ve knocked me up over a dozen times with that line,” I groaned.
“Sixteenth times a charm,” he smirked.
“God, I’m so close,” I moaned.
“I’m going to fill you up,” he warned, quickening his thrusts.
“Please,” I begged. I wanted him fill me up, make me cum, knock me up.
“Just imagine yourself, heavy and pregnant again,” he whispered. In and out, in and out.
“Don’t stop,” I cried. This wasn’t an idle lovemaking session. My husband was actively trying impregnate me.
“And it doesn’t end there. I’m going to keep you pregnant for as long as I can,” he said lovingly, turning me head to face him and kissing me deeply.
“I’m cumming,” I whimpered against his lips.
“Me too.”
“Fuck!”
We stayed like that for hours after the fireworks, long enough to grow hard again, to make sure, to make absolutely certain I would give birth in nine months. The last thing I remember was running my fingers through his hair while he nursed at my breast, wondering how I’d gotten so lucky.
-
Eight months later I was on top again, my swollen form slowly bucking on top of his bare cock. I ran my hands along my sensuous curves, radiating the warm glow of my beautifully pregnant form. I looked into the mirror, seeing a naked fertility goddess in the reflection.
“You know, I’m really glad you talked me into getting pregnant again. I didn’t think I would feel this way, but now that she’s inside me, I couldn’t imagine life without her,” I said thoughtfully, stroking the taught skin on my stomach.
“You sure it’s a girl?” my husband asked curiously.
I shrugged. I was going to cum eventually but I wasn’t in any hurry. “Definitely,” I beamed.
