Because I Can't Have Nice Things

Do you remember the day you sent me that message, propositioning a stranger on the internet in a moment of lust-filled weakness? I bet you were stuffing a hand into your underwear the moment you clicked 'Send', feeling your body grow feverishly hot at the thought of me filling your womb and knocking you up.

You didn't really expect me to respond, did you?

And you sure as hell didn't expect me to flirtatiously reply, stroking your ego and teasing you until you could barely think, until finally suggesting a place where we could meet.

That's how you ended up on your back in a seedy hotel room, moaning and clawing at my shoulders when I finally bottomed out in your tight hole. I'll never forget the way you clung to me, one moment babbling about how you shouldn't be having sex during such a dangerous time in your cycle and the next begging me to spill inside of your fertile body. You stared up at me with sex-blown pupils as I held you down and started fucking you even harder, not even knowing what name to call out in your pleasured frenzy.

I told you that I'd pump you full of my seed.  That you'd walk out of there with my baby already growing in your belly. That you'd never see me again, even after your womb began to swell with my child.

Heels skittering frantically up the back of my thighs, you wrapped your legs around my waist and hung on for dear life, mindlessly eager to be pounded into that mattress.

I growled out that you'd get huge. That anyone who looked at you would know what you did.  And that you wouldn't ever know who really knocked up your sloppy hole.

Your eyes rolled back in your head and you came hard all over my cock.  And it didn't take me long to follow you, pouring a hot load deep into your fertile womb. 

as someone who basically never leaves the house without a bra on, we need a version of “douched and dangerous” for big tits freed from confinement. i’m open to suggestions.

i was riding shotgun with my hair undone in the front seat of his car