desperate to be mpreg

But a few days in to your visit, it’s not just the sex that’s making you happy. Simply living alongside him is more meaningful than anything else. You took him to the mall to shop for baby clothes and savoured the looks that people gave you and him, walking hand in hand through stores, proud of what you’d done together. You visited his parents for dinner and thrilled at the way you helped your boy move around the cramped kitchen, softly asserting your fatherly rights. At the movies, you helped him sit in the cramped folding seat and kept your hand on his belly the whole movie, intensely focused on feeling his deep breathing and the occasional movement beneath his taut skin as he stared ahead at the film you barely remembered.

Tomorrow you’re going home. There’s still time for a bit more sex; you’re working up the courage to take him in the living room of his condo, in front of the giant glass windows that look out in four or five other buildings, where everyone will surely see you bring your boy to an ecstatic finish. You tell him you’ll be back, hopefully sooner this time. You want to be there for the birth, to see your boy do his duty for you. You can tell he’s scared, but you know he’ll be great. You can’t wait to watch him labour against the gifts you’ve given him.

“Morning babe,” he says groggily, as I stand in the doorway observing him. I’ve got nothing on except my underwear, and I know he likes that.

“Morning,” I return, giving him a little smile.

“You’re up,” he says. It’s not a question, even if his voice lilts a bit at the end. It’s a statement, a recognition of a fact that must, inexorably, lead to another.

“So are you, I see” I say back, and my eyes wander to his hardened cock.

Scott smiles, coy, still waking up a bit. He reaches down under the covers and scratches his balls, taking no notice of how much it turns me on to see him perform little masculinities like that. He’ll be a perfect dad, in every way, just like he’s already the perfect daddy to me. My stomach gives a flip that has nothing to do with the twins Scott gave me eight months earlier.

“You coming back to bed, babe?” he asks, as I continue to linger by the bathroom door. “It’s still early.” The clock on the bedside reads 7:04, too early for a Sunday.

I rub my belly ponderously, like a magic eight ball. “Signs point to yes,” I finally say, walking over to the bed. I climb on my knees and crawl overtop Scott until my face is above his while my legs straddle his prone torso. His hands find my belly, hanging off my body; he caresses, while I lean in for a kiss.

Scott tastes like the cigarettes he must’ve smoked the previous night, but also like the mouthwash he used at the factory after work. He tastes like hard work and honest living. I feel a kick in my uterus and I wince; Scott feels it too, and he smiles so warmly that I could practically melt. He’s wanted to be a dad for so long, and now I’m the one who is giving it to him. Twice at once, too, thanks to his supersperm and my family’s habit for multiples.

We kiss some more, and then I break off and shuffle back a bit, moving my face down to his armpits. They’re slightly damp, a little musky, and I breathe them in like fresh flowers. I wish I could live with his scent like an air freshener. I kiss his biceps and his triceps, and then he im gently guides my head down to his pecs with his hands. Moving from one nipple to the other and back, I get lost in his fur, feeling overwhelmed by my lust for him.

He pulls down the sheet to reveal his lower half, his boxers already off (he must’ve had them off the whole time.) My mouth moves to his thick cock, the head already sticky with precum. I want him to choke me with his girth, but he’s a gentle giant with oral sex. I’m slow and methodical as I move up and down his shaft, and he moans just enough for me to know it’s entirely real. As I swallow him as deeply as I can, he pushes me gently to go just a bit further, whispering to me about being daddy’s good boy. I choke, I start to cough, and he relents, and then leans over to kiss me for a job well done. His balls come next, two big cherry tomatoes that I suck on one at a time. His scrotum is hairy, and it tastes like dried sweat, and I can’t get enough. I could live forever between Scott’s legs, worshipping his powerful tool.

But Scott has other plans; he keeps me on all fours but moves behind me. He spits and then his fingers begin to work me open. Little by little my pussy opens up for him, just like it has countless times before. He knows my insides better even than me; he’s gentle but firm, and it isn’t long before his finger is pushing against my prostate. Some more spit, his fingers withdraw, and now I feel his cock resting on my ass crack.

“Ok babe,” he says, “you ready?”

I mutter yes, and clutch at my full belly. No matter how many times Scott fucks me, it feels like magic every time. This is no different, as he pushes himself inside me and up towards my plugged up cervix. He groans as he bottoms out at just where my canal ends, separated from my full uterus only by a few inches of tissue. He begins to pump in and out, slowly at first and then a bit faster as we find our rhythm. He stands me up eventually, both of us on our knees, me leaving backs against him while he fucks me from behind and his hands dance across my gravid belly. He can’t stop feeling my pregnancy, like a sculptor checking his own work he’s intimately fascinated by every inch that he’s made me grow.

We change positions more than once. Scott lays down and bounces me up and down on his cock. I watch his face as he watches my gravid baby bump bounces up and down in front of him; I see his primal satisfaction, I tell him how good it feels that he’s my daddy. He’s the big spoon to my little, pounding my hole deeply while he tells me how good my warm, impregnated hole feels.

Towards the end, I’m laying on my back with my legs on shoulders; he’s looking over me, pumping harder and harder, watching how his pounding makes my gravid belly jiggle and jostle. He watches for signs of the twins, desperate to see another rippling movement beneath the belly he’s given me.

I can tell he’s close, his pace is unsustainable for much longer. My own cock is rock hard, dripping precum as it flaps against my pregnant belly. I can’t reach it, but I won’t need to; Scott knows that I’ll fuck when he does. And after a few more thrusts, he jams his cock right against my prostate and makes me yelp as we both cum, me all over my gravid belly and him in my canal, flooding me all the way up to my cervix.

In the seconds after orgasm, I see Scott for who he is, a humble, working class bloke who wants nothing more than to have a big family. I see our whole life in his eyes, which means more kids than we can reasonably afford if he has his way. I see how satisfied he is with me, how I’m giving him meaning in a world of bleak meaninglessness. The twins are his world, and I’m his world, and in this moment our sex is the only thing that matters.

My stomach dropped a bit at the answer. Or maybe it was my cock that twitched. Something inside me seemed to roar a bit. It was a turn on that this man in front of me was so decidedly set on having kids. I imagined him immediately as a stellar father, caring and supportive and maybe a little tough but never anything but totally loving. If I were a snowman, I’d have melted at the swooning heat that my heart seemed to be generating. I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to give him that experience myself.

So like I said, I knew by the end of that date that I’d make him a father. But I’m not a crazy person, so that first night (we drunkenly took a room in the hotel instead of going back to mine or his place) we were responsible and used condoms. The chemistry was obvious, though, at least to me. And I think to him. He came four times over the course of the night and the morning after; twice while fucking me, and another two times on my face. I couldn’t get enough of his cock, a thick, musky piece accompanied by some majorly heavy balls. Not to get too descriptive about it, but he wielded his junk with the precision of a surgeon and the unrelenting power of a construction worker.

I couldn’t get Greg out of my head for weeks. I desperately wanted to give him a child, but I had refrained from telling him I could do it for him. As we continued to date, we talked more and more about what our potential family would be like — big, we agreed, six or seven kids seemed ideal — but Greg always came back to the difficulty of the thing. Adoption was long and expensive and we both hated the idea of surrogacy even though we’d had friends go that route. It took a lot of willpower to not tell him we had a third option: me. I learned at an early age that telling guys I was one of those rare gay guys who could carry made things a bit less complicated for everyone. Sure, it meant that I’d gotten in to some tough spots in the past, but the law was on my side. Besides, I wasn’t ready for kids back then. But now things seemed different, even if I wasn’t quite ready to tell Greg yet. Or rather I wanted desperately to tell him, but the logical part of my brain knew that only 6 weeks of dating probably wasn’t enough, really, to know for sure if he was the one I’d give my body over to. All my instincts screamed the obvious, but I was going to be responsible.

Or at least that was the plan. It was only three months after we’d first met that I was at Greg’s place, a little condo in the city, and what I thought was going to be a glass of wine turned in to three bottles. And that’s when I let it slip. He was cuddling up me, telling me how good we’d be as parents if only we could find the time and money to go through with adoption, when I blurted it out. “Or you could just knock me up.” He laughed but then realized by the embarrassed look on my face that I wasn’t kidding. He asked if I was serious, and I nodded with the comic solemnity only a drunk person possesses. I tried my best to explain that it was possible, that I was one of those rare guys, that I kept it from him because I wanted to be sure. And now, I said against my better judgement, I was pretty sure. Very sure, actually. Greg sat quietly for a moment and then asked: is this what you want? to be pregnant? I stared in to his dark eyes, gulped, and then nodded. Yes, I said, I want to give you children.

Next thing I knew he was carrying me to the bedroom. He had literally scooped me up in his arms and plodded as fast as he could to his bed, where he threw me down and proceeded to jump on top of me. The kissing was ravenous; my face, my neck, and then once my shirt was off he suckled at my nipples. My pants came off next, along with my underwear, which already had an embarrassingly big precum spot soaking through. “Fuck,” he said, leaning back to look at me completely naked, “you’re so beautiful, Tay.” I giggled a bit and shrugged. “I won’t look like this for much longer, babe, if you get your way.”

I rolled Greg over on to his back. I climbed on top of him, feeling the warmth and weight of his body under mine. I unbuttoned his shirt and ran my fingers through his chest hair. His chest was solid under my hands. I felt his arms, and Greg bent them a bit so I could feel his biceps bulged. I kissed him everywhere I could manage, worshipping his solidity and masculinity. His shorts came off next, followed by his trunks, and I found myself in between his legs, my face rubbing at the sweaty, hairy area between his thighs and his package. To someone else the smell might’ve been weird, but to me it was the best thing I’d ever smelled; his musk made my mouth water. He smelled like a father.

Greg took his head in his strong hands and guided my mouth to his cock. “Open up, baby,” he said, and gently pushed his head past my lips. It wasn’t long before he was pressing at the back of my throat; I gagged, hard. I was never good at oral sex, and I whimpered an apology. He knew this already from our last few dates, but despite his insistence that I was getting better, I still felt bad. “That’s alright baby,” Greg said, but he didn’t stop. “Let’s do a little bit each day until you can take the whole thing, ok? Now that we’re going to get you big and pregnant, there’s going to be times together when we won’t be able to have full sex. I want to make sure you’re ready to take my loads in other ways.” And so he continued to fuck my face but he slowed it down, gently filling my mouth with his cock until I started to cough, over and over again, until my eyes were so watery I was practically crying. After a while, he relented and pulled me up towards him, grabbing my ass while he kissed me, the taste of his precum lingering in my mouth.

He slowed down the kissing now and the mood seemed to grow serious as I lay on top of him. “Are you really sure you want this, Tay?” he whispered to me, his gaze locked in mine. “This is way easier for me than it is for you, so I wouldn’t be mad if—” but I cut him off my thrusting me hand over his mouth. It was my turn to talk. “I’ve tried to ignore this, but I can’t,” I said, breathy and still pretty tipsy. “I want you to fill me up. I want you to own me, completely. I’m desperate to have you show me off to the world.” It sounded corny, almost pulled from the worst Harlequin, but I couldn’t stop. “I love you, Greg, and giving you the gift of fatherhood is the only want I can express that. Let me make you a dad tonight Greg.”

And with those express wishes, Greg pulled apart my ass cheeks and rubbed his cock against my hole. He grabbed some lube from the bedside table and blindly slathered it on himself first, and then used the remaining to slick his fingers and probe at my entrance. One finger and then two and then three happened so quickly; my hole had never been so receptive, it seemed to me. He found my prostate and pushed at it, sending little shivers through my body. He withdrew his fingers and I knew what was about to happen.

First there was the growing pressure but then my hole relented and Greg’s thick cock pushed smoothly inside me. Brushing past my prostate, he found my cervix with ease and began to push against it. It hurt a bit as Greg pushed my ass down on his cock so that his dick pressed hard against my cervix, like he thought he could bust through there directly to my womb. I bit my lip in pain, which he noticed immediately. “I know it hurts baby, it won’t be for long.” He hugged me close and he started to pump in and out of me, taking control of my body like a rag doll. It was bliss.

We switched positions a few times as Greg continued to prime me for his impregnating load. On all fours, Greg pushed himself deep inside me as his balls thwacked against my ass. Standing up, he pressed me against the wall to ceiling glass window that looked out over the city, his dick expanding my canal as our neighbours probably looked on in curious embarrassment. And sitting in his chair in the corner of the room, I rode Greg from his lap, controlling the pace of his destruction of my bussy while he leaned back and watched, trying his best not to blow his wad too early.

It was forty five minutes of various paces and positions before Greg seemed to tire. We were laying our sides, Greg spooning me from behind as his cock slowlt moved in and out of me. He discovered that I love when he pulled out completely, that I whimpered uncontrollably every time he parted my lips with his slick staff.

“You ready to be a mommy, Taylor?” Greg asked, barely audible over the sounds of my wet hole being plumbed. I had never been more ready for anything in my whole life (nor, frankly, in my hole’s life.) I gasped a yes, as Greg’s paced picked up one last time. I felt blindly towards my hole to touch Greg’s wet, loose ball sack; his balls were swollen with cum and his scrotum started to contract as they readied. I moved me hands to my tits, feeling them harden under my soft fingers.

Greg’s hands moved to my lower belly as he began his final thrusts, knocking against my cervix with abandon. “Come on, baby,” I egged him on, “knock me up. Show me how much of a man you are. Make yourself a father.” He pumped faster, harder, his hands pressing harder against my empty womb. “You wanna cum inside me, Greg?” I asked as my whole body rocked back and forth from his fucking, “you wanna ruin my body with your baby?” He responded with grunts and moans as he pumped himself closer and closer to fatherhood.

And then it happened. He pushed himself as hard as he could against my now sore cervix, his whole body shuddered, and his hands caressed my belly as he shot his load with a loud, animal grunt. “Oh fuckkkk,” he said, as he flooded my insides, “fuckkk, fuck fuck fuck… what did I do to you!!!” It might’ve sounded like regret to anyone else but I knew he meant it completely opposite. It was a victory cry, a conquering hero’s reflection that he’d just bred his partner for the first time. The feeling of being bred was too much for me and I came handsfree as Greg’s cock was still lodged inside me.

We lay together for a few quiet moments, Greg not pulling out his half-hard cock lest any of his seed spill out. He kissed me neck while his hands continued to rub my belly. After a few moments of silence, he started to talk, almost a monologue, and I close my eyes while he spoke. “Babe, that was incredible. You were amazing. That was better than I’d ever imagined. You’re going to be so sexy when you’re swollen up. I know it won’t always be easy, babe, but I’ll be here for you. I want you to have the best nine months of your life, babe. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. I can’t believe I’m going to be a daddy. It’s all because of you, babe. Thank you baby. Thank you.”

Seven months later, he was right about everything. It hasn’t always been easy, but it’s been the best time of my life. Everyone stares at me at the gym; my shorts barely fit, my shirt doesn’t even cover my belly anymore. But where I see awkward weight and unsightly stretch marks, Greg assures me that he sees proof of our love. He kisses my stretch marks, even rubs his cum on them sometimes like lotion. He says my ass is unignorably inviting, which is probably why Greg fucks me at least once a day. If we thought breeding sex was good, it’s been nothing compared to pregnant sex. The pressure of Greg’s cock is doubly good when it’s shoved up against the warm weight of my full womb. When I straddle him in the morning at the breakfast table, it’s with the full weight of his family now. When he sneaks up on me in the shower at night, his hands explore my soapy belly and I revel that he and his pride and joy are separated only by my stretched skin.