I'd known even before I moved in that Betty's step-dad was a good man. I
didn't find out just how good he really was until my eighteenth birthday. That
was the night he gave me my best birthday present ever, even though he didn't
know at first just what his gift really was. I met Betty through the youth group
at church. She was the sweetest of all the group members. She was always nice
and never had a bad word about anyone. Even though she was two years younger
than me, there was a lot we had in common, not the least of which was our
bodies. We were both "big girls" with fuller bosoms and hips than most of the
girls, and we both hated the way guys would fall all over themselves staring and
drooling like pigs and how girls would snub us because, Betty said, they were
jealous. We quickly became close friends. I saw a lot of Betty, her little
brother, Jimmy and her mom and step-dad. They were like this family off TV or
something. Betty talked about her step-dad like he was a god. According to her,
he was the perfect father. I guess she was right. He let her do almost whatever
she wanted and always gave her enough money. Except when he was taking care of
her sick mom, he was at her beck and call. He was always driving us around to
different places whenever Betty asked him. He seemed like the perfect dad to me,
too, especially when compared to the guys my mom hooked up with. The one she was
with now didn't even work. He just sat around the house and drank all day. I
didn't like him from the first time I met him. One night I got woken up by all
the grunting and moaning coming from my mom's bedroom. The walls of the little
apartment we lived in were paper-thin, so it was something I was used to. Mom
went out that night and I expected it, but this time she was really loud. So was
he. There was a lot of shouting and cursing and I couldn't get back to sleep, so
I tip-toed into the living room to get the book I'd left there. I should have
know that the noise would stop the moment I got into the other room. I grabbed
the book and tried to get back to my room as quickly and as quietly as I could.
I wasn't fast enough, though. Just before I reach the door to my room, a short,
skinny man came out of my mom's room -- totally naked. He stood in front of me
in the narrow hallway. He reminded me of a plucked chicken. Even though I was
wearing a long flannel nightgown, he leered at my breasts. I stared at his cock,
the first one I'd ever seen, sticking out of the thick hair that covered his
belly. In the second we stood facing each other, it started to puff up. He said,
"Mm, it's the daughter. Like what you see? I sure like what I'm seeing." I
quickly looked down at the floor. "Hello," I mumbled and tried to slip past him
to get to my room. As I turned sideways, facing the wall to squeeze by, he
turned and leaned toward me. I felt his member brush up against my rear and poke
in between my buttocks. I let out a little gasp and my hips shuddered, more from
disgust than anything else, and he said, "Oh, you like that, do you? Maybe some
day, sugar. Maybe soon." I rushed into my room and slammed the door. Ugly,
horrid little man! He didn't scare me too very much because he really wasn't
very big and didn't seem too strong, but he made me so angry! How dare that
repulsive jerk poke that filthy thing at me! And my own mother let him do that
to her. The thought made me sick! My mom spent more and more time with that
gross little chicken-man, and eventually he moved in. I spent less and less time
at home. I'd either be at the church or staying over at a friend's house. I'd
stay over at Betty's a lot. Her parents were fun to be with. They were always
joking with us, especially Betty's step-dad, Tom. Sometimes her mom, Margaret,
would get a bit cranky, but Betty said that was because of her illness. The
thing I liked the most was that they always had dinner at the same time every
night, and they all sat together at the dining room table with the TV off. They
were the only people I knew that did that. Still, I had to go home sometime.
Usually when I got home the chicken-man was either passed out on the sofa or
already in bed with Mom, so I didn't have to put up with his filthy mouth and
lewd staring. Sometimes, though, he was still awake and drunk. Then I'd just go
to my room and lock the door, but if I had to go to the kitchen or to the
bathroom, he'd always make some kind of crude remark about my tits. My mom
thought it was funny. When it happened, I thought it was the worst night of my
life, but it really turned out to be one of the best. I was asleep in my room
and I was having a real weird dream. I was lying on the sofa in Betty's living
room and Tom was over me, tickling my breasts and thighs with chicken feathers.
I was laughing and squirming underneath him, trying to get away, but not real
hard because it felt really good, especially when he rubbed a stiff feather
along the lips of my pussy. My hips were rocking up and down and I got real wet
down there, which made the chicken feathers smell nasty. Then I felt something
poking into me. I awoke with a start and there was the chicken-man kneeling
between my legs! He'd slid my nightgown up above my breasts, pushed my panties
aside and was trying to stick his finger up into my pussy! I pulled my leg up
and, screaming, I kicked him off the bed and across the room. With a grunt he
hit the full-length mirror on the wall, cracking it, and collapsed in a heap on
the floor. Groaning, he crawled toward the door. My mom appeared and without a
word pulled him up and dragged him out. When they were gone, I quickly got up
and locked the door just as the yelling began. It went on and on. I knew I
wasn't going to get any sleep that night, so I called Betty and begged her to
let me come over. Of course I'd woken her and she groggily asked what was wrong.
I said I couldn't say over the phone. She said she was pretty sure that if it
was important her parents wouldn't mind too much. When I got there, I told Betty
what had happened and asked her not to tell her parents. She wasn't sure they'd
be okay with that, but they were, though I think Tom had an pretty good idea
what had happened because he kept on asking me if I was all right and did I want
to go to a hospital and if I needed anything to just say so and he'd make sure I
got it. "Except a new CD player," he said, "you can't have that." That made me
laugh, and I was able to relax again. I fell asleep in Betty's room. I felt so
safe there. The next day I called home to make sure Mom was home. We had to talk
about what had happened. She answered the phone and before I could say two
words, she told me that she and chicken-man had decided that I was old enough to
take care of myself and it was best for all of us if I was out on my own. I was
just eighteen years old and not even out of high school and she was kicking me
out! I cried, but she said her mind was made up and she hung up the phone. I ran
into Betty's room and just laid down and cried. A little while later, Betty came
in and she said her family had talked it over and decided that if I wanted to I
could stay with them! I was still real hurt by what my mom had done, but Betty
telling me that made me feel a lot better. So I moved in with Betty and her
family. Nobody made a real big deal about it. The only real hassle was when Tom
took me to get my stuff and to have Mom sign a paper so if I got hurt or sick,
he could take me to the hospital. Tom kept on staring at chicken-man like he
wanted to hit him. It would have been cool if he did, but he didn't. It may
sound kind of strange, but from the first day I never felt like I was a guest or
I was imposing or anything. I just felt like one of the family. Betty and I
started acting more like sisters than friends. Sometimes we'd get mad at each
other and fight, but we always agreed that Jimmy was really annoying most of the
time. Margaret could be strict, but she was always fair, even when she was
feeling bad. Besides, if Margaret said no, you could always ask Tom. He usually
never overruled her, but at least he'd always explain why. They certainly didn't
change the way they lived because of me. After dinner, if nobody was expecting
company, everybody usually put on pajamas or nightgowns and sat around in the
living room to watch TV. At first, I guess for my benefit, Tom used to put on a
robe as well, but he stopped doing that after a while. There wasn't anything
sexual about it, either. It was just a family being comfortable with each other,
and I was one of the family. I learned a lot. I guess it's not good to say so,
but the stuff Tom and Margaret taught me made a lot more sense than some of the
stuff I learned at church. Tom didn't go to church, but he was real religious in
his own way. Once we came home from church, talking about something or other,
and he said, "Don't do stuff just because somebody told you it's 'right'.
Everybody's smart enough to know what's right and what's wrong. Don't hurt other
people and don't hurt yourself -- in that order." That made sense to me. It also
made sense to me what he said about homosexuality. Tom and Margaret had a lot of
gay friends, but I didn't know that at first. Once a couple of guys named Ron
and Kerry came over to see how Margaret was doing. I didn't think much about it
until Betty started talking about how much fun she'd had at their 20th
anniversary party. "Anniversary of what?", I asked. "Of their wedding," Betty
replied. "They both got married on the same day?" Betty giggled. "Of course,
silly! What do you think, that they'd get married to each other on different
days?" "They're married to each other?! Eeuwh, that's gross!" Betty looked at me
as if I was from Mars. "Why is it gross?" "Because-- Well, because-- Well, it
just is." She just frowned and said, "I don't think it's gross; I think it's
really sweet that two people care about each other so much that they'll stay
together for twenty years even though some people think it's 'gross' that they
care about each other." Then she got up and walked out of the room. I was
confused. Homosexuality was wrong, wasn't it? Tom had overheard the
conversation, and he saw the confusion in my face. He said, "Remember what I
said? Just because someone tells you something's wrong, it doesn't mean it's
wrong." "But everybody says homosexuality is wrong," I said. "No, dear," he
replied. "Only the people who don't understand it. They love each other. What's
wrong with that? Are they hurting each other? Are they hurting themselves?"
"It's unnatural." "It's unnatural for someone to love someone else? It's not
'unnatural' for me to love Margaret or for Margaret to love me, is it? Why
should it be okay for us but not them?" "I don't' know. It's just gross is all."
"Let me ask you a personal question," Tom said. "Are you attracted to girls or
to guys?" I almost blushed. "Guys, of course." "And it'd be 'gross'," Tom
continued, "if you were attracted to girls, right?" "I guess," I replied. "And
there's nothing 'unnatural' about being attracted just to guys, right?"
"Uh-huh." "Kerry feels exactly the same way you do. If it's not okay for him,
why should it be okay for you? And what difference should it make to anyone who
you or he are attracted to? Don't answer now. Just think about it and remember
that it really doesn't matter who you love as long as you love, right?" I
thought about it, and I decided he was right. Why should it make any difference
who anyone was with? Ron and Kerry, once I got to know them, were really nice
guys, and were just as devoted to each other as Tom and Margaret were. I learned
something else about gay people, too. I was told that they used to watch Betty
and Jimmy a lot when the kids were little, and if they ever tried to "enlist"
Jimmy into the gay lifestyle (which I'd been told homosexuals tried to do), it
sure didn't work. Not with those magazines I found in his room. One afternoon
Betty and I were cleaning the kitchen. Betty asked me to go see if there were
any dirty dishes in Jimmy's room. I went in there and I found a glass under the
bookcase that looked like it was a hotel for dust bunnies. So I rummaged around
looking for more science experiments and that's when I found them. They were
filled with pictures of big-breasted naked women, most of them with their hands
between their legs, or couples having sex. I threw them back under the bed, took
the dirty glass back into the kitchen and didn't say anything about it until
that night, when Betty and I were in our room getting ready for bed. She
laughed. "So they're in his room again, eh? It's so cute. He takes them from
under Tom and Mom's bed and Tom takes them back, but somehow they always end up
back in Jimmy's room." My mouth dropped open. "You know about them? Tom knows
about them? Those filthy things are Tom's?" Betty frowned, just like she did
when we were talking about Ron and Kerry. "There's nothing 'filthy' about them.
They're all adult models who get paid well enough to just sit naked or have sex.
And there's nothing in them that's ugly or violent." "You've looked at them,
too?" "Oh, sure. They're kind of interesting. I guess guys don't fantasize as
well as girls do when they masturbate." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I
thought this was the perfect family. What kind of strange things were they into?
Betty looked at me sternly. "Are you trying to make me believe you've never
masturbated? C'mon, everybody masturbates. When you don't, you get frustrated
and short-tempered. After a while, it'll get so bad that you'll fall for any
good-looking guy that comes along whether you really love him or not. I want to
fall in love with my head and not my crotch. So, hey, if you hear me whimpering
in bed some nights, you'll know what going on. Seriously, you've never?" I
blushed deeply. "Uh, well, I, uh--". Betty giggled at my discomfort. "It's
nothing to be ashamed of, silly. I told you, everybody does it. They just don't
talk about it. Especially guys. Those magazines go back and forth, but Tom has
never once even mentioned it to Jimmy." Suddenly I got the image in my head of
Tom lying naked on his bed, his cock rising stiffly up from his groin. I started
feeling a tingling between my legs and my blush deepened. "Anyway, I don't think
much about it," Betty concluded, "it's just a part of life. Do you mind if we
turned off the light? I got a test in the morning, and I've got to get some
sleep." I switched off the lamp, and lay in my bed, trying to get the image of
Tom masturbating out of my head. After a while, though, I heard Betty's sheets
start rustling and her breathing started getting heavier. I knew what she was
doing, and the thought of her getting herself off made my pussy itch something
awful. The faster her breathing became, the clearer the image in my head was of
Tom. I'd never thought about Tom in a sexual way before, but now I couldn't get
him out of my mind. I thought about him making love to Margaret. I could see
them together, Tom lying atop her, Margaret's leg wrapped around his thrusting
hips. My own breathing became short, and my hand wandered down across my belly.
Then I thought about how sick Margaret was. It occurred to me that she probably
wasn't well enough to make love. That was probably why Tom had those magazines.
It made me sad to think of Tom lying with Margaret next to him but not being
able to make love to her. I imagined him alone in his bed masturbating, his cock
thrusting into the empty air. Then I saw myself lying down next to him and
pulling him on top of me. I pressed the palm of my against my stomach,
pretending that it was his cock pushing down at me. I moved my hand lower,
running my fingers through my pubic hair, then down along the lips of my pussy,
as if his cock was poking itself into me. My fingers pushed into the slippery
wetness, rubbing up and down, brushing against my clitoris again and again. I
imagined the fullness of him within me, and suddenly my breath caught in my
throat as waves of pleasure washed over me. As the waves subsided and my
breathing came back to normal, I realized that I had no idea how noisy I'd been.
I guess I'd gotten loud enough, because I heard Betty whisper, "Mmm-hmn," under
her breath. I rolled over and fell asleep almost instantly. The next six months
was like I was in paradise. I went to school and was able to concentrate on my
studies and when I got home I didn't have to worry about if there'd be food in
the house. I always knew where my family was. Margaret was usually too sick to
help around the house, but the rest of us shared the cooking and cleaning and
laundry and stuff. It sounds like a typical family, but it was the first time
I'd had that kind of life since my dad left. Most nights I'd dream about Tom. I
couldn't help it. Usually, Tom would put his pajamas on right after dinner. They
really weren't much more than boxer shorts and a T-shirt. I'm sure he didn't
intend it, but it really showed off his body. I started wearing thinner and
tighter nightgowns. Nothing obscene, just sheer enough to make it obvious that I
wasn't wearing a bra or panties. Sometimes I'd try to tease him by bending over
so he'd have a clear view down the front of my top, or I'd stick my butt up in
his direction. I never caught him staring at me, but I know I had some effect
because sometimes I saw a bit of a bulge in his shorts and he'd switch the TV to
ESPN. By the time bedtime came around, I was aching to turn the light off, get
under the covers and fantasize about him making love to me. I wondered if he
ever fantasized about me. It all came crashing down when Margaret died. She
finally got too sick and had to go into the hospital, and she left us a few days
after that. It was a sad time, especially for Tom. He cried a lot. That was bad
enough, but then the worst happened. Betty and Jimmy weren't Tom's kids. With
Margaret gone, they'd have to go back to their father, who lived on the other
side of the country. Tom tried to keep custody, but his lawyer said it probably
wouldn't have worked. Betty was eighteen and old enough to stay wherever she
wanted to, but Jimmy was thirteen and he'd have to go back, so Betty decided it
was better for Jimmy if she stayed with him. Tom was shattered. His entire life
was his family, and now it was gone. The first night after he sent Betty and
Jimmy back to their dad, it was just me and him alone in the house. Tom sat
silent in front of the TV, drinking beer after beer. I'd never seen him drink
like that and before long he passed out in the chair. When he started to snore,
I woke him up and helped him out of the chair and into bed. I held him steady as
we staggered down the hallway to his bedroom. He wrapped his arm around me for
support, and his hand pressed against the side of my breast. It was all I could
do to keep from moaning. I sat him on the edge of his bed and kneeled down in
front of him, bending to take his slippers off. The way he was sitting, the
opening in the front of his shorts was wide open and I could see just the base
of his fleshy cock surrounded by his thick pubic hair. I looked up and saw his
eyes peering glassily at my exposed breasts through the loose opening at the top
of my nightgown. "'Ur verr' pretty, know that?", he slurred, putting his hand on
my shoulder to keep from falling over. "Nm-hmm," I said, my body shivering at
his touch. As I straightened up to lift his legs, his hand slipped down along my
breast and for a brief moment it stopped to press against the stiff nipple
before falling limp into his lap. He fell back onto the pillow and, even as I
put his feet on the bed and switched off the light, he was out. For a long while
I just stayed there kneeling next to the bed, listening to his shallow
breathing. There he was in the darkness lying on his back, in the position I
always imagined when I fantasized about him. Here I was in the darkness, burning
with desire, aching to press myself against him. Without thinking, I reached out
and pressed my hand against his hip, thrilling at the heat of his body even
through the thin fabric of his pajamas. I moved up under his pajama top to touch
the warmth of the bare skin just above his belly. I gasped as I fondled him, his
wiry hair sending sparks through me as they dug into my palm. Then I slid my
hand down his belly and under the worn elastic of his shorts. As my fingers
slowly threaded through the thick hairs on his belly, his body began to react to
my caresses, his breathing quickening. His hips began to faintly spasm up and
down and his fingers began to slightly twitch. With my other hand, I pressed his
palm to my breast. I sighed as he rhythmically clenched at my soft flesh. As my
fingers crept toward the base of his penis, his movements became more distinct.
His breath came faster, his hips were spasming deeper and his hand squeezed
tighter against my breast. Finally I reach the soft flesh of his limp cock and I
ran a fingertip along it length. As I did, I felt it twitch. His hips shuddered
and his fingers pressed into my skin. I gasped as his cock began to pulse and
grow under my touch. I quickly slipped my hand out from under the waistband of
his shorts and boldly pulled the rising shaft out through the opening in front.
My other hand slipped down between my damp thighs and pressed against the slick
lips of my pussy. As I wrapped my fingers around his thickening flesh, his hand
clutched tight on my breast and he moaned deeply. I thrust my fingers into my
dripping pussy, grinding deep against my clit. Almost instantly the orgasm
flashed through me. I was consumed by the flames of ecstasy, my body shuddering,
my fingers pulling and tugging at his semi-erect cock. In response, his hips
jerked stiffly upward and, moaning softly, his cock convulsed and out from it's
tip began to gush the thick cream that was his seed. It spurted over and over,
coating my fingers and fanning the flames of my own orgasm. As the burning
within me subsided and my awareness returned, I felt his cock shrinking in my
grasp. His breathing again become regular and his hand fell away from my breast
to lay limply at his side. For the first time since Margaret died, he seemed at
peace. I took a tissue from his bedside table, wiped his cock and tenderly
placed it back within his shorts, covered him with the bed sheet and kissed him
gently on the cheek. As I went to my bedroom, I dried my hand with the damp
tissue. I was about to throw it into the wastebasket when I thought better of
it. As I lay on my bed, I pressed the sperm-soaked tissue up between my pussy
lips and rubbed up and down within the folds. As my outpourings merged with his
and my orgasm overtook me, I swore no one would ever take Tom's family away ever
again. I'd give Tom a new family. I would give Tom a baby.
The Birthday Gift - part two
I had to have a plan. Tom still saw me more as a daughter than as a lover, but I
knew now I could change that. I knew I could seduce him, but I had to figure out
the best way to do it. I decided that the night of my eighteenth birthday, less
than a week away, would be the night we'd become lovers, the night he'd plant
his baby inside me. The timing was perfect, because then I'd be at my most
fertile point in my cycle. My plan was pretty simple. I'd make Tom ache to make
love to me. I already knew I could arouse him, but I had to keep him aroused for
the entire week. The whole key was to make sure he didn't masturbate. That would
be the hard part. I started to work the first thing Sunday morning. With the
amount of beer Tom drank the night before, I knew it'd be some time before he
dragged himself out of bed. I had a lot to do before my birthday on Saturday.
The first thing I did was switch the regular and decaf coffee. Tom's a coffee
drinker, and I didn't need him over stimulated. After I made a pot, I rearranged
my room. My bedroom was right across from his, so I put up a full-length mirror
so he could see into my room, and, more importantly, I'd have a direct view of
his bed. Then I fixed my door. That was simple. I knew that if it wasn't closed,
it would swing open, so I got the top of it wet and when it dried the wood
swelled up so it wouldn't fit the door jamb. After Tom went to work on Monday,
I'd fix his, too. Then I put on a sheer white blouse and my thinnest skirt and
waited for Tom to arise. Around noon, Tom lumbered into the kitchen and poured
himself a cup of coffee, then staggered into the living room, which I'd kept
darkened by leaving the shades drawn. He was still wearing the pajamas he had on
the night before and I could see the faint stain on his shorts from his
ejaculation last night. I was sitting across the sofa with a book in my lap. I
pulled my knees slightly up so he could see, if he looked hard enough, that I
wasn't wearing panties. Even in his hung-over state, he noticed right away. His
bloodshot eyes were riveted to my crotch. I slid my legs down and smiled up at
him. "Good morning," I said, "or is it afternoon? How're you feeling?" "Ask me
tomorrow," he grumbled. "I think my head is about to fall off." "I know what you
need," I offered, "Did you take any aspirin?" "Uh-uh. You know I hardly ever
take pills." "Let me get you some. Then I'll make you something to eat. Do you
want breakfast or lunch?" "I'd better have lunch," he said. "I don't think I
could even look at an egg." This couldn't have been better. I went to his
bathroom, got a washcloth and some water and soaked down the top of his bedroom
door. Then I went to the medicine cabinet. Sure enough, Margaret's tranquilizers
were still there. I took a handful and wrapped all but two in a piece of tissue
paper. I got the aspirin, dropped the tissue pack in my bedroom and went back
through the living room into the kitchen. I put the two tranquilizers behind the
toaster and got a glass of water. "Here you go," I said as I came back to the
living room. I bent over him to give him the aspirin and water, practically
pushing my breasts into his face. The blouse was perfect; my stiff nipples were
clearly outlined by the flimsy, practically see-through material. His eyes
lingered on my chest before looking up at my face. "Thank you. You're
wonderful," he said. I looked down. It was working like a charm. There was a
growing bulge in his shorts. We sat and watched movies on TV all that day. I
waited on him hand and foot, being sure to show off my body at every
opportunity. In the late afternoon I told him that since he hadn't gotten
dressed that day, I wanted to be comfortable, too, so I went to my bedroom and
changed into the skimpiest nightgown I owned. As I started out of my bedroom, I
caught a glimpse of myself. My breasts were clearly visible and I could see ever
hair on my pussy. I realized that if I went out like this I'd go too far, so I
put on a bra and a pair of red panties. That was better because it looked ever
sexier, but didn't look as obvious. When I walked back to the living room the
effect was immediate. If I kept on like this, he probably wouldn't even last
until Saturday. We had a late dinner. I made sandwiches. I crushed up the two
tranquilizers I'd hidden earlier and put them into the mayo on his bread. As we
ate, I mentioned in passing that I had an appointment the next day with the
school psychologist. "What for?", Tom asked. "Oh, I think it's something
everybody has to do. You got to admit, though, that my home life isn't exactly
normal, living with an older man and all." I grinned. "Not exactly the typical
high-schooler's lifestyle, eh?', Tom said. "Actually, it wouldn't surprise me if
it didn't happen more often than we think," I replied. I smiled and stared deep
into his eyes. Tom pulled his eyes away and stared down at his sandwich. "Well,"
he said, clearing his throat, "if you need anything from me, let me know. But
you know that, right?" "Yes... I do." I said quietly. We finished the
sandwiches, then sat down to watch another movie. About a hour after dinner, Tom
started fading. "I think I'm going to bed," he said, his voice getting thick.
"This early? But the movie's not over yet. Why don't you just lie down here on
the sofa?" "Uh, yeah... I guess..." "Good." I got up and let him lay down. "Is
that comfortable?" "Mm-hmm." He was already almost out. It was too early. I had
to remember to dose him later in the evening. I didn't feel good about drugging
him, but it was the only way I could keep him from masturbating after keeping
him hot all day. Right after he passed out, I sat on the floor in front of the
sofa and, being sure not to wake him, pulled his cock from his shorts, put in my
mouth and began sucking. It grew in my mouth, but before it became hard enough
for him to ejaculate I stopped and put it back. If I had my way, by Saturday
he'd have enough sperm in him to impregnate a women's softball team. Just to be
safe, I decided to let Tom sleep on the sofa that night. While he was asleep, I
checked the doors to the bedrooms, and, sure enough, there was no way they'd
close. Then I sat in the chair next to the sofa and stared at his tenting shorts
while I fantasized about his cock inside me. I fondled myself to orgasm four or
five times before I fell asleep. The next morning I was awoke before he was. I
waited to wake him until he'd have only enough time to shower and shave before
he had to go to get to work on time. When he went to his room to change, I heard
him curse softly as he found that the door wouldn't close. I made him coffee,
and he gulped it down, then grabbed his briefcase and kissed me on the cheek.
"Oh," he said, stopping suddenly. "Sorry. Habit, I guess." "Don't be sorry," I
replied, "it was nice." I went to school, but I was much too excited to keep my
mind on schoolwork, so I skipped my last two classes. I got home and started
thinking about what I was going to wear that night. I hoped I didn't wear out my
most enticing outfits too early, but I really didn't have to worry, because I
knew that guys usually didn't notice if you wore the same outfit twice in the
same week. I decided tonight to wear a tight tank-top and a thin but loose pair
of shorts, without panties or a bra, of course. I started dinner and made
tranquilizer-laced Jell-O for dessert. He got home and it was pretty much a
normal night, the first one we'd really had since the kids left. Except that I
kept on sliding my bottom around on the sofa so that the crotch of my shorts
would slip to the side, giving Tom a open view of my damp pussy lips. When he
went to his bedroom to change, he was so hot he was sweating. I quietly followed
behind and went to my room. I sat on the bed and slyly glanced at the mirror so
I could see what he was doing, turning my head so he couldn't tell I was
watching him. I picked up the phone and waited. Sure enough, he was sitting on
the bed in his pajamas and was rubbing his crotch. I started loudly talking into
the phone as if I was talking to one of my girlfriends. He saw me in the
mirror's reflection, quickly pulled his hand away from himself and, sighing, got
up and started to the living room, his cock clearly sticking up under his
shorts. Before he moved out of the range of the mirror, I turned my back to the
mirror and removed my shorts so he got a shot of my full bottom. I think I heard
him moan. I changed into the same outfit I did Sunday night, except I wore a
pair of sheer light panties so that the dark hair on my pussy was faintly
visible. When I entered the living room, he moaned again. "What's the matter?",
I asked. "Uh, nothing," he lied, "it's this show. It's sad." "What," I said,
"something's sad on 'Murphy Brown'? "No, uh, I mean, uh," he stuttered, "it's so
predictable, you know?" "Yes." I smiled. "I know. What're you reading?" He had a
magazine in his lap that didn't quite lay flat. He looked down at it. "Oh, just
an article about the deficit." I went to take it. "Can I see it?" The magazine
twitched in his lap. "No," he said, grabbing it, "not until I'm done with it."
"Okay, fine. Be that way." I said, feigning a sulk. I plopped down on the sofa
and crossed my legs under me. He sighed yet again. "I went to see that
psychologist today," I said. "She wants to see me again tomorrow." "Oh?" "Yeah.
I just started talking and talking and the time was up and still didn't say
everything I wanted to." Tom looked concerned. "What'd you talk about? Is there
something bothering you?" "Not really. At least I didn't think so, but we
started talking about what happened just before I moved here. I never told you
my mom's boyfriend tried to rape me, did I?" "No, but I thought that was why you
were upset." I reached over to him to touch his arm, purposely leaning so my
loose top was gapped open. His eyes went right where I wanted them. "And you
took such good care of me then. And I'm going to make it up to you. Let me get
you dessert." I got up and brushed in front of him, practically pushing my ass
in his face. When I brought the Jell-O, I gave it to him from behind his chair,
and I brushed my breast against his shoulder. He jumped. "I'm sorry," I said.
"Did I scare you?" "N-no," he said. "W-Well, yeah. A bit." "I'm really sorry," I
said, breathing the words into his neck. "T-that's okay. Really." His breathing
was getting really shallow. He was never going to make it until Saturday. After
about an hour, just like the night before, Tom started getting groggy in his
chair. When his eyes started fluttering closed, I told him he shouldn't sleep in
the living room two nights in a row and he ought to go to bed. "Mm-hmm," he
replied. "C'mon, sleepyhead," I said and, pulling his arms, helped him out of
the chair. We wobbled down the hallway to his bedroom, his hands on my shoulders
as I walked backwards, guiding him. His cock stuck straight out under his
shorts, and I was really tempted to press myself against it, but I didn't want
to chance waking him. "Dunno why... so tired...," he mumbled as he hit his bed.
I pulled the covers over him and kissed him on the cheek. "Habit," I said. "S'okay...
s'nice....", he mumbled just before he started to snore. The rest of the week
went pretty much the same way. I'd tease him mercilessly, then drug him. Near
the end of the week, he was in a state of perpetual arousal. He had a bulge in
his pants even before he walked in from work. I don't know how he even made it
through work, though he told me later that he thought he was getting some pretty
suggestive looks from the girls at the office. I made sure he didn't have either
the time or the opportunity to relieve himself. The only close call I had was on
Thursday night. I guess I'd gone too far. I decided to wear a a different
nightgown, one that wasn't so see-through so I could get away with not wearing a
bra, but was so low-cut that all I'd have to do is move a bit and my nipples
would show. I'd insisted we watch a movie on the cable channel and I sat
crossed-legged on the floor in front of his chair. I'd chosen the movie because
I knew there was a really hot sex scene in it. When it came up, I leaned back
against his legs, parting them so my head was almost resting in his lap. When he
looked down, he had a perfect view of my quivering breasts and my stiff nipples.
I'd pulled my gown up, put my hand between my legs and was fingering my pussy. I
guess when he saw that, he'd had too much. He pushed me forward and practically
ran into the bathroom, slamming the door. I had to think fast. He wasn't about
to dump all my hard work into the toilet. I went to the kitchen and flung my arm
across the counter. Some pots and plastic glasses fell off, making an unholy
racket. Then I dropped to the floor and started crying, "Ow! Owww!" As easy as
that. He came right out of the bathroom, oblivious to the fact that his cock was
practically poking out of his shorts, ran into the kitchen and kneeled down in
front of me. "Are you hurt?", he asked, breathless. "What happened?" "I slipped
on something," I cried, "and fell on my side. I think I'm okay." I moved my leg.
"Ooh," I yelped. He took my leg, one hand on my ankle, the other on my thigh. I
stifled a gasp. He bent my leg at the knee. "Does that hurt?" "No," I replied.
"I don't think anything's broken, but I think I bruised my side." I pulled my
nightgown up over my hip and flashed my bare bottom at him. "Does it look
bruised?" He started shaking. "Hh-uh, N-no," he gasped, "it looks f-fine." His
fingers on my leg began to twitch. "Good," I said. It's already feeling better.
Here, help me up. I was getting us some ice cream." It was definitely time for
dessert. The rest of the evening went fine. By this time, when I led his drugged
body into the bedroom, he held onto my hips for support, and his stiff cock
brushed up against me. By the time we reached his bed, he'd have his hands
cupping my ass and his rigid pole pressing hard against my belly. Either he was
really out of it, or he'd stopped fighting the inevitable altogether. When I got
him to his bed, though, he put up no resistance when I reluctantly pulled his
hands from my body. The crisis came on Friday. He called and said he was going
to be late coming home. After work he was going to Dooley's for happy hour with
a couple of co-workers. A female voice in the background told him to tell me not
to wait up. I cursed my stupidity. A suitable amount of time had passed since
Margaret's death, and Tom was handsome enough. Of course, there'd be plenty of
women who'd want him. As horny as Tom was, all a girl would have to do it look
in his general direction, and he'd jump her. Damn it, after I worked so hard to
prime the pump, I wasn't going to let some barren old slut suck it dry. I put on
a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a baggy T-shirt, put my hair in a ponytail and
went down to Dooley's. I figured if I acted like a spoiled adolescent and make a
nuisance of myself, I could drive away anyone who'd "take Daddy's attention from
me". It would probably set me back in Tom's eyes quite a bit, but I'd just have
to work harder tonight and tomorrow. Better that than losing him completely.
When I walked in, a man at the front door asked me what I wanted. I said I was
looking for my daddy. He said that he'd be my daddy if I wanted. I guess I
didn't look as young as I'd hoped. Or, maybe I did. I told him he was a pervert
and to get lost. As my eyes got accustomed to the dim light, I started looking
for Tom. I finally found him in one of the darker corners, sitting at a table
with some bleach-blonde bimbo. It looked like I was too late. They were clenched
in a lip-lock and Tom had a fistful of tit while the woman kneaded away in his
lap. That clueless cunt was going to pull him off! She had no idea what kind of
a hair trigger he was on. I resigned myself to the fact that no matter how I
went about breaking it up, I was going to look bad, but I had to do something.
Otherwise, this little bitch was going to end up in Tom's bed instead of me.
Possibly forever. As I started toward them, Tom's hand dropped to the table with
a thud and as Miss Peroxide came up for air, Tom's head lolled backwards. He was
asleep! "Daddy?" I said. "You Mister Sleepwalker's kid?", the bimbo snapped.
"You better take him home. I feel sorry for a guy who can't hold his liquor.
Jeeze, one beer and he passes out." She got up and straightened her skirt. "At
least," she continued, looking down at his crotch, "I know I can arouse the
dead. Too bad I couldn't keep the rest of him interested. Good luck getting him
home, kid. I got other fish to fry." With that, she wiggled off to the bar. I
had the waitress get him a cup of coffee, then I woke him and made him drink it.
He fell asleep again as I drove us home, too. Obviously, I'd given him too much
of the tranquilizers. I only hoped he'd be alert tomorrow for my birthday. When
we got home, the first thing he said was, "Man, I'm beat. I'm going to bed." It
wasn't even seven o'clock. It was much too early for him to be asleep. He might
wake up too early, and throw off my schedule. Worse, he might masturbate while I
wasn't looking. "No you're not," I scolded, "You're going to eat something.
That's why you're so tired. You sit in your chair, and I'll make you a
sandwich." When I came back with sandwiches and coffee (the real stuff, not
decaf), he was snoozing. I looked at his pants, and the bulge was gone. It was
the first time in days he didn't have an erection. I hoped I hadn't broken him.
One way or another, though, I'd fix it. I shook him awake. "Here," I said, "wake
up and eat this. You'll feel better. Besides, there's good stuff on TV tonight."
"That's all I ever do anymore," he sighed, "sit around and watch TV." "Tomorrow
you're taking me out for my birthday, remember? There's a lot of stuff I want to
do, so you might as well rest now because tomorrow I'm going to suck you dry." I
smiled, knowing just how dry I suck him.
The Birthday Gift - part three
Since I couldn't resort to the pills if he got over-stimulated, I went easy on
him. The only overt move I made was when we went to our rooms to change. I
positioned myself in front of the mirror and, being sure he was watching, I
undressed as slowly and as seductively as I dared. First I pulled the T-shirt
over my head, letting the fabric slide slowly over my breasts, then I unzipped
my jeans and wriggled my hips to let them fall to the floor. While I stepped out
of them, I undid the hooks of my bra and slowly let that slip off of me. I
rubbed under each of my breasts, moving my hands up to caress my nipples, then I
slid my palms down all my sides to my hips and slipped my thumbs under the
elastic of my panties. I slowly slipped them off, lifting my legs to be sure the
mirror reflected a good view of my lower lips. Then I sat on the bed facing the
mirror and, closing my eyes, spread my legs and rubbed my pussy a bit before
reaching over and slipping on the longest, thickest flannel nightgown I owned. I
got up and walked out into the hallway, seeing Tom sitting on his bed, breathing
heavily. "C'mon. That movie's going to start. I'll make snacks." I swear, I did
nothing else to tease him, but he was still stiff all that night. He didn't even
try to hide it anymore. Maybe he'd just gotten used to it. But even after an
entire week of teasing, he wasn't going make that first move. After seeing him
in the clinch with the bimbo that afternoon, I didn't think it was because he
was shy. Still, he made no attempt to satisfy his hunger he clearly had for me.
The closest he got was when I was bending over in front of the refrigerator,
looking for a snack for us, and he came up behind me. I felt his cock press in
tight between the cheeks of my bottom and I moaned aloud. "Find what you were
looking for?", he asked. He pushed his hips a bit, grinding it further in.
"O-Oh, yeah," I breathed. "I think so." I was sure he was about to turn me
around and carry me off to his bed then and there, but he suddenly pulled away.
"Uh, well, that's good. B-bring it into the living room when you come." Then he
went back and sat in his chair, shaking. When he announced he was going to bed,
I told him I was going, too. I sat on my bed pretending to read while I secretly
watched him. The way the mirror was set up, the light from my bedside lamp
reflected onto his bed, so I could see him even with his light off and, more
importantly, he could see that I could see him. He tossed a bit, but soon he was
snoring. I thought about how the plan was going. I wasn't too worried about
accomplishing my goal tomorrow night. I had one final ace in the hole. The first
thing I did the next morning was make a big breakfast for the two of us. We were
both going to need our strength. I let Tom sleep in a bit, but he was a lot
easier to wake than he'd been for the last week. "Gosh," he said as he was
eating his eggs, "I'm feeling more alert than I have all week. It must be your
cooking, birthday girl." I smiled. After breakfast, we went to the mall. The
idea was to find a dress to wear to my birthday dinner, but I took my time
finding it. Along the way, I tried on quite a few other outfits. All the
swimsuits I tried on were all too small. Of course, I wasn't sure, and I made
Tom look at each and every one. Then there was the lingerie. I had to have Tom
check if this one or that one was too see-through. Surprisingly enough, they all
were. Tom's pants were bulging all day long. I even talked Tom into buying new
pajamas. White silk. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't talk him into trying
them on for me. It was my only failure of the day. Finally, I found a black
strapless gown that fit me perfectly. I'd timed it perfectly, too, because it
was time to get ready for dinner. We went home and changed, and I knew my day
had been a success when I asked him to help me with the zipper in the back of my
dress. I heard the catch in his throat when he saw I wasn't wearing a bra, and
his hands wouldn't stop shaking. At dinner, I started in for the kill. "You
remember I told you I was seeing that psychologist?", I said. He stopped trying
to spear his peas with his fork, and looked up at me. "Uh-huh. Did you come to
any conclusions?" "Well, I told her about that last night at my mom's and how
her boyfriend tried to rape me, and she said it wasn't at all unusual that I've
reacted the way I have." "The way you've reacted?", he asked, concerned.
"Uh-huh," I continued. "I didn't tell you, but I'd been having problems
concentrating with my schoolwork. The psychologist thinks that it's because of
that night. The good thing is that I'd already started to deal with it before I
even saw her." "Well, you're a very bright girl," he said. "We decided that
there's only one more thing I need to do to get rid of the problem." I lifted a
forkful of rice to my lips. "So it's pretty much solved." He waited, expecting
me to continue. When I didn't, he asked, "So, what do you still have to do?" I
held my finger in the air as I swallowed the rice. I looked around, as if it was
too much of a secret to mention in a crowded restaurant. "Not here. I'll tell
you later, when we go home. Let's just say it's a birthday gift to myself." He
shrugged. "Okay, whatever. But speaking of birthday gifts, this is for you." He
reached into his pocket and pulled out a little gift-wrapped box. "What's
this?," I asked. "What do you think?", he replied. Oh, Tom, you've already given
me this dress and that bikini and that slinky nightgown and you've taken me out
to dinner. This is too much!" "Just open the box." I tore the wrapping and
opened the box. In it was a gold pendant in the shape of a heart. "Oh, Tom, it's
beautiful!" "That's to remind you that, no matter where you go or how old you
get, you'll always have my heart." I started to cry. "T-that's so sweet." I
kissed him full on the lips. I felt him start to lean in and then, as if it was
an extreme effort, he pulled away. "I-I just want you to remember how I feel is
all," he muttered. "Tom, I'll always remember." I was practically trembling with
anticipation on the drive home. "So tell me," Tom asked as we pulled into the
garage, "what are you going to do with the rest of the evening? The night's
still young. Do your friends have anything planned for you?" "Well", I told him
as I got out of the car, "a couple of friends from church did ask if I wanted to
do something, but I told them that I just wanted to stay home. I know you've
been kind of under the weather, so I got a surprise for myself." "A surprise for
yourself? Some trick. How's it done?" Tom asked as we walked through the front
door. "You'll see," I grinned, closing the door behind me. "Follow me." I went
into the kitchen, took a box out of the cupboard and put it on the counter, then
I turned my back to him. "Unzip me?" "Sure," he said, and pulled the zipper
down, past my waist. I hoped he noticed that I hadn't been wearing panties. "Uh,
did anyone ever tell you have a pretty, uh, neck?" "No, I don't think anyone
ever has." He noticed. "Now I'm going to change, and I want you to get changed
and then fix what's in the box. The candles are there in the drawer." As I
talked I held the strapless dress up with my arm. He opened the box. "Ah,
whipped cream icing," Tom said sweetly, "my favorite." He took a swipe of it
with his finger. "Uh-uh. No fair stealing a taste before the birthday girl."
With my free arm, I grabbed his hand, popped his finger into my mouth and
started sucking on it. Between this and the dress beginning to slip from my
grasp, it had an immediate effect. His pants were once again bulging. "Mmm,
that's nice," I said, letting his finger go. "You're going to love it." "I
already do," he said. I changed into the negligee I got that afternoon. It was
practically translucent, and I decided to pull out all the stops and not put on
anything underneath. I made sure to change away from the view of the mirror, so
he'd get the full effect all at once when I walked in. I waited until he called
me. "Hey, birthday girl! Better get in here before your cake's all covered with
wax!" When I went into the living room, the lights were off and Tom, wearing his
new pajamas, was holding the glowing cake. He almost dropped it when I walked
in, and his shorts tented immediately. "Oh," I said, feigning surprise, "is that
for me?" I came up next to him and hugged him, pressing my breasts tight against
him. The candles flickered from his shaking hands. "It's so pretty." I blew out
the candles and the room was lit only by the dim lights outside. I took the cake
from his hands and put it on the coffee table next to us. Then I wrapped my arms
around his neck and kissed him, crushing myself to him, his stiff cock flush
against my pussy. He started to pull away, but I wouldn't let him, and suddenly
he gave up fighting. His arms came up around me and held me tight. His lips
parted, his tongue met mine and we hungrily explored each others mouths as our
hands explored each others bodies. We stood together in the darkness, holding
each other, kissing each other, loving each other. As his tongue probed deeper,
he began to moan into my mouth, meeting the cries I'd been breathing into his.
Finally we pulled apart. "I-I can't do this," Tom said breathlessly, "it's
wrong, it's--" "Tom", I said, holding him tightly, "remember what I was saying
about the psychologist and the solution to my problem? She told me that once
someone I loved and trusted made love to me, all the remaining fears from that
night would be gone. There's no one in the world I love and trust more than you,
Tom." I looked up into his eyes. "Please, Tom. Make love to me. I want you so
badly. I've always wanted you." He looked down at me. "Oh, love. You can't know
how much I've wanted you. Over the past week, you've filled my dreams. But we
can't--" "No, Tom. There's no reason. I'm not your daughter. I'm a woman, Tom,
with a woman's needs. And you're the only man that can fill my needs. Make love
to me, Tom. Please, fill my needs. I need you so badly." I pulled him down and
kissed him again, my tongue filling his mouth. I ground my hips into his and he
moaned again and held me tighter. After an exquisite eternity, he pulled away,
"I-- I'm not, uh, prepared--" "Ssh." I put my finger to his lips. "I told you
I'd already started to deal with it. I'm on the pill," I lied. At that, he
lifted me into his arms and, kissing me deeply, carried me down the hall and
into his bedroom. He placed me gently on his bed and laid down next to me. I lay
there with my arms raised and ready to take him as he stood next to the bed, his
eyes fixed on my body. The flimsy material I wore hid nothing as his gaze
fluttered across my breasts, then fell lower across my stomach to rest just
below my thick hair that covered my pubic mound. Under the stabbing heat of his
stare, my knees rose and parted on their own and my hips began to rock upward. I
felt my thighs awash in the moistness flowing out of me. His fingers slipped
under the waistband of his shorts and he slowly pulled them down, His cock
sprang free, jutting stiffly out from below his belly. I reached up and wrapped
my hand around it, the first time I'd done so while he was awake, and he moaned
as I ran my fingers along it's length and cupped the tight, full sack at it's
base. I instinctively clutched at the fullness in my palm, drawing it to me and
raised myself up from the bed. I brought my mouth to his twitching cock and,
flicking my tongue, licked the pearl of moisture seeping from the velvet head,
then nipped it with my lips. I sucked the knob into my mouth and softly nursed
at it. "Oh, my," he moaned, "Oh- oh, ahh--," and his whole body began shivering.
He reached out, took my face in his hands and stroked my cheeks with his
fingers. "I can't-- Oh, my, I-- Wait, wait." He gently pulled himself out of my
mouth, placed his hands on my shoulders and rested me back against the mattress.
I looked up at him questioningly. He said, "Love, if you keep that up, I'm going
to blow before we begin. Here. Let me." Balancing himself with his knee on the
edge of the bed, he bent and took my excited nipple between his lips. My back
arched up as his tongue spread pleasure down into me. "Oh, yes," I cried, "it's
so good. Feels so--" His magic mouth nibbled across my chest to my other breast
and he sucked and nipped at my other nipple. I reached up and pressed his head
closer, crushing him into my breast. I felt his knees pressing against my thighs
as his body moved onto the bed, onto me, his chest hair brushing against my
stomach, his swollen cock pushing against my leg, as his mouth continued to
caress my breasts. Then he released my fluttering nipples and his consuming lips
began to travel down my body onto my belly and into the curly hair below. My
hips began to beat against the mattress. He nipped at my thighs and up and
around my dripping pussy, lapping at the wetness. My hips writhed at his teasing
tongue, trying to get it at the aching itch between my legs. "Oh, God, please,
please--" Finally, his tongue slowly slipped up the length of my pussy lips and
I moaned loudly. My hips thrust sharply upward and I entwined my fingers into
his hair as I pulled his head deeper between my thighs. His tongue began to dart
up and down within the furrow, each gliding thrust pushing deeper into my pussy,
aided by my spiking hops. With each upward lick, he nipped at my clitoris,
bringing me to uncontrollable moaning. Suddenly he began sucking full on my
clit, and it took me over the edge. My body went into spasms as the rush of the
orgasm washed over me. My pussy tightened and contracted upon his tongue,
flooding with my release, which he greedily sucked from me, driving me into yet
another wave of pleasure. "Oh, God," I screamed over and over, "It doesn't end!
It doesn't end!" I wrapped my legs around his neck and practically crushed him
with my thighs as his insatiable mouth gulped at my pussy. His hands alternately
kneaded my bucking pussy mound, then slid up to squeeze and caress my breasts.
Over and over the waves battered within me. As I crested over the top of yet
another orgasm, Tom pulled his head up to look into my face, twisted in throes
of orgasmic ecstasy. He smiled. I clutched at him, pulling him up onto me. "Oh
God," I cried, "It's so good, so good. I need you in me. Take me, Tom. Take me
now!" He pressed his weight down upon me. My breasts crushed against his chest
and I thrilled at the feeling of his skin against mine, his belly pressing
against my belly, the hairs of his legs brushing roughly against the softness of
my thighs, his twitching cock pulsing against my rutting pussy. He raised
himself up and his cock slid up between my pussy lips. He shifted his hips and
the head of his cock nestled itself between the folds, poised at the entrance.
My breath caught in my throat. As we stared into each other's eyes, he pressed
down and I felt the broad tip pushing in, stretching apart the folds, tearing me
apart. Even as wet as I was, I wasn't prepared for the immensity forcing itself
up into me, and I cried out at his entry. His brow knotted. "Love, are you a
virgin?" I whispered, "Yes, Tom. You're the first. Come inside me, Tom. Take me.
Fill me. Make love to me." "I'll be gentle as I can be," Tom said. He pulled
back and I felt the fullness ease. "No, Tom," I cried, and I grabbed his
buttocks and pulled him tightly into me. His cock drove quickly down and again I
cried as the thick head drove further into me. I goaded him to press further and
with a loud grunt, he reared back and hammered his hips down. I shrieked as I
felt the massive thickness rupture my hymen and bury itself deep within me.
Instantly, my arms and legs wrapped around him, holding him tight to me. He held
himself deep inside me. "So tight," he moaned, "so warm, so tight." "So full," I
gasped into his neck, "you're so full in me." I felt my pussy spasming against
the pulsing thickness suddenly filling me. The spasms ignited another roll of
orgasmic waves that flashed through me. "Oh God, Tom, I-I-m coming- I'm coming
again- I-" "Yes, love, I know," he breathed, "I can feel your pussy gripping me
tight inside you. It feels good, love, oh God it feels so good." With a grunt,
he pushed even deeper into me, then he pulled back and plunged in again, making
me cry out with pleasure. As he began to thrust in and out, my hips rose to meet
each jab, pulling him as deeply into me as I could. This made him stab even
faster and deeper, and soon we were violently hammering at each other in perfect
rhythm, both of us delirious in ecstasy, with only one purpose, to drive his
potent seed into my yielding womb. Soon Tom's grunts became more and more
urgent. "Oh, God, love, I-- it's so-- I can't--" His thrusting became sharper
and more intense and I knew he was on the edge. "Oh, yes, Tom," I screamed, "do
it! Do it! Come inside me, fill me with your seed! Drive it deep into me,
deeper, Tom, deeper! Fill me, fill me, come in me, do it, do it! Fill me, do it
now!" His cock suddenly expanded and then with a fierce upward jerk it erupted,
blasting a massive gush of seed deep into me with such force that I cried out at
the shock! Howling in release, he fired jet after jet of his sperm into me, his
pumping hips driving it even deeper, forcing it into my fertile womb where the
egg I knew was waiting for impregnation. Over and over his cock spasmed,
spurting more and more of his seed into me and I felt it coursing through me,
filling me to overflowing. My thighs were drenched with his abundance streaming
out of me, pooling underneath us. My body convulsed as the waves of bliss that
swept through me. The pulsing of his cock began to ebb and his piercing started
to come farther apart, though still sharp and intense, along with his cries.
Then with one last bellow, he collapsed onto my breast, gasping for breath, his
hips still rutting, his softening cock still rocking within me. We laid there,
joined together in his bed, my arms and legs still entwined around him, my head
nestled in the hollow of his neck, his soft cock still within my pussy, his
belly tight against mine. My belly, in which I knew the seed he'd planted was
even now growing. I felt his heartbeat beating against my breast, and I thrilled
knowing that his child's heart would be beating inside me soon. We fell asleep
in each other's arms. I was awoken the next morning by his caressing lips upon
my breasts. We spent all that day making love. Margaret was a very lucky woman.
Tom is an inexhaustible lover. He spasmed his seed into me almost a dozen times
that day. I told you: he was a good man. After about a month of intense
lovemaking, Tom realized that I was carrying his child. Tom's no fool. He
confronted me with it when he noticed that I hadn't gotten my period. Between
that and the fact that he never saw any birth-control pills, it was a foregone
conclusion for him. He wasn't too mad. He just wished that he'd known we were
conceiving a child when it happened. We were married not long after. That raised
a few eyebrows at his office, but he says that because they're jealous. Little
Betty was born just seven months after the wedding, which raised more eyebrows,
but we really don't care. I've become a real baby-making machine, because less
than two months after Betty was born, I was pregnant again. This time we're
hoping for a boy.
The End
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