Hello guest! (Level: guest) Log in

You can change the width of the story text shown below:
Use how much percent of the screen width?

[ default ] [ 10% ] [ 20% ] [ 30% ] [ 40% ] [ 50% ] [ 60% ] [ 70% ] [ 80% ] [ 90% ] [ 100% ]

Options: Plain text or PDF (fanclub only!) version  |  Mark story  |  Mark author

Don't forget to vote for this story, in the yellow voting box below the story!

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

walls.

When she came the first time it was sudden and violent. Her whole body locked, belly tightening visibly under my palms, a gush of slick coating my chin and dripping onto the couch cushion. The musky-sweet smell of her release thickened the air. She grabbed my hair and ground against my face, riding out the aftershocks until she was whimpering, oversensitive.

“Inside,” she demanded, voice wrecked. “Now. I need to feel you stretch me.”

I stood, shucking my jeans and boxers in one motion. My cock sprang free, thick and veined, head flushed dark and glossy with precum. She watched it hungrily, licking her lips. I lined up, rubbing the head through her soaked folds, coating myself in her slick. The heat of her entrance kissed me, pulsing. I pushed in slow—inch by inch—feeling every flutter and ripple of her walls as they opened around me.

She was impossibly tight despite how wet she was, the pregnancy making her channel even more sensitive, every ridge and vein of me dragging against her. When I bottomed out, my balls pressed flush against her ass, she let out this long, shuddering moan that vibrated through both of us. Her belly rested against my lower abs, warm and firm, a living barrier between us that only made it hotter.

I started moving—slow at first, savoring the wet drag, the way her pussy sucked at me every time I pulled back. The sounds were filthy: the slick smack of skin meeting skin, her gasping breaths, the creak of the couch springs. Her nails raked down my back hard enough to sting, leaving raised red lines I’d feel tomorrow.

“Harder,” she begged. “Fuck me like I’m not pregnant—like you’re trying to break me.”

I gripped her hips, tilted her pelvis, and slammed in deep. The angle let me grind against her cervix with every thrust. She screamed—raw, animal—and her pussy clamped down so hard I almost came right then. I felt the flutter of another orgasm building inside her, the way her walls rippled and squeezed. Milk leaked from both nipples in thin streams now, trickling over the curve of her belly, mixing with our sweat.

I leaned down, sucking one nipple again while I pounded into her. The dual sensation—her tight heat milking my cock, warm sweet milk flooding my mouth—pushed me over. She came with me, body convulsing, a hot rush of wetness soaking my thighs and the couch. I buried myself to the hilt and pulsed inside her, filling her with thick spurts while she whimpered my name over and over.

We didn’t stop.

Later—minutes? hours?—she was on her hands and knees on my bed upstairs, ass high, back arched, belly hanging low and swaying with every thrust. The room smelled like sex now: sweat, her arousal, my cum leaking out of her and down her inner thighs in slow, pearly trails. I gripped her braids like reins, pulling just enough to arch her neck back. Her moans turned guttural, animal. Every time I slapped her ass the sound cracked through the room, leaving a perfect handprint that bloomed red against her dark skin. She loved it—pushed back harder, begging for more.

“Deeper—God, Mike, split me open—”

I gave it to her, hips snapping, balls slapping wetly against her clit. Her pussy made these greedy, sucking noises around me. When she came again she squirted—hard, sudden—hot liquid splashing my thighs, soaking the sheets. The smell of it was sharp and primal. I followed right after, groaning as I emptied into her a second time, feeling the way her walls fluttered and milked every drop.

We collapsed, panting. Her skin was slick everywhere—sweat, milk, cum, her own release. I traced lazy circles over the taut skin of her belly, feeling the occasional faint kick from inside. She laughed softly, breathless.

“See?” she murmured, voice hoarse. “Told you pregnant pussy stays hungry.”

And she was right.

Every day after that carried new textures, new scents, new sounds.

Mornings she’d wake me by straddling my face, thighs clamping my head, her swollen clit grinding against my tongue while morning light filtered through the blinds and painted gold stripes across her breasts. The taste of her first thing—musky, a little saltier after sleeping—was addictive.

Afternoons she’d text me a single word—“Laundry”—and I’d find her bent over the washing machine downstairs, skirt hiked up, no panties, already dripping down her thighs. The metallic tang of dryer sheets mixed with her arousal as I fucked her from behind, her palms slapping the vibrating metal, moans muffled against her own arm.

Nights were long and slow. Candlelight. Her oiled skin gleaming. I’d massage her swollen feet first—thumbs digging into the arches until she sighed—then work up her calves, behind her knees, the sensitive crease where thigh met hip. By the time my fingers reached her pussy she’d be trembling, clit throbbing under the lightest touch. I’d edge her for an hour sometimes—fingers curling against her G-spot, tongue circling her clit, pulling away every time her thighs started shaking—until she was crying, begging, milk leaking steadily from both nipples in thin white streams.

When I finally let her come she’d sob with relief, body seizing, a gush of slick coating my hand and wrist. Then I’d slide into her while she was still spasming, drawing out another orgasm before she could catch her breath.

The closer she got to delivery, the more insatiable she became.

At eight-and-a-half months her belly was enormous, skin stretched tight and shiny, with a dark line down the center. Her breasts leaked constantly now—dark wet spots on every shirt when she didn’t wear the pads in her bra. Sex became creative: her on her side, one leg hooked over my shoulder so I could slide in deep without putting pressure on her stomach. Or her riding me reverse, ass bouncing, hands braced on my thighs while I reached around to rub her clit and feel her belly tighten with every contraction of pleasure.

The last time before labor—two days before her water broke—we went slow and filthy. She wanted everything. My tongue in her ass first, rimming her with slow circles while three fingers fucked her pussy, the combined taste and scent overwhelming. Then my cock in her ass—slow, careful, lots of lube—while she worked a thick vibrator against her clit and eventually she slipped it in. The dual stretch made her scream into the pillow, body shaking. When she came her pussy gushed again, soaking my balls. I pulled out and slid into her pussy, feeling how much tighter she was after the anal, how her walls fluttered desperately. We fucked until neither of us could move—sweat-soaked, trembling, covered in each other.

Afterward she curled into me, head on my chest, one hand resting on her belly.

“You’re gonna be here when he comes, right?” she whispered.

I kissed her temple, tasting salt.

“Try to stop me.”

Two days later her water broke in my kitchen while she was reaching for a mug. The clear fluid splashed warm over both our feet. She laughed through the first contraction.

“Guess all that dick worked.”

I helped her to the car, heart hammering, already counting the minutes until I could hold the baby as if it was my own.

The End

Do you like this story? If you do, you may be interested to know that the author also has several other stories on the site that are available to the members of the EroticStories.com FanClub!
Click here to read more about the FanClub.

Request from webmaster Art:
Don't forget to vote for this story in the yellow voting box below!
Authors really appreciate the votes and it only takes a few seconds!

Options: Plain text or PDF (fanclub only!) version for easy saving or printing

ESmail: Click here to send a private message to Colione (with ESmail, the site's internal message system)

Authors appreciate feedback! Please vote, and write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!

Profile for Colione, incl. 17 stories Email: mikecolione@gmail.com Add this author to your favorite author list Add this story to your favorite story list Send this story to me through email

Give your opinion about this story: select here 1 (terrible) 2 .. 3 .. 4 .. 5 (reasonable) 6 .. 7 .. 8 .. 9 .. 10 (excellent)

Send feedback to this author: Your name: Your message to Colione:     (You are not logged in, so you can't send private messages) Public: post this message in the public feedback below