Seven Brothers of Sin

But suddenly, Macy’s eyes jerk open with a gasp.

“Oh god oh god!” she pants, scrambling to try and get up. “That’s my water! My water’s broken!”

Shit. Fuck. I wasn’t supposed to do it in her vag, the seven of us pledged on anal only so close to the due date. But she begged me for it, I swear. And now, oh shit, oh shit, the baby’s coming.

Macy’s frantic, trying to scramble up. But it’s impossible, she’s seated deep on my cock, huge and bulbous like a beach ball, slippery with fluid. Her hands and feet slide this way and that and on the marble countertop, unable to get any traction.

“Oh god!” comes her pant once more. “Oh god!” she cries again, both hands on her belly this time. It literally ripples as my eyes stare.

But I’m not worried. The baby knows his mother is loved, and this is the manifestation of that love. So slowly, I reach both arms around that ripe torso and gently lift that curvy form off me.

“Slow, baby girl,” comes my growl. “All in good time.”

And as my dick exits her warm vaginal passage, a hard contraction slams down on my cock. It’s literally the tightest squeeze ever, and a groan erupts from my chest reflexively.

But Macy’s eyes go wide.

“Matt,” she pants. “That wasn’t an orgasm squeeze. That was a LABOR CONTRACTION!”

Awww fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

I shouldn’t have let myself get carried away.

Our heir is being born.

This very second.

So calling upstairs, I let out a roar.

“Yo! Go time!”

And six sets of feet come pounding down, a herd of elephants if there ever was one.

“Aw shit!” rumbles Matt, his eyes taking in everything.

“Fuck!” snarls Smith, staring at Macy’s nude body, the semen dripping down her thighs.

“Let’s go,” says Trent tightly, bundling Macy into a robe. “Sit still, honey, we gotcha.”

And that’s how Casey Morgan came into the world. That’s right, she was born with her seven dads watching, almost swooning at the sight of the beautiful child. It was gorgeous for sure, Macy moaning and panting, the labor difficult. And yet, everything went off without a hitch. Our daughter. Our heir is here.

Because life has turned out okay. Against all odds, we’ve made it work for the eight of us. For sure, it wasn’t easy at first. Our sweet girl was filled with doubts, having seen the wreckage of the past.

“How do I know I won’t become like Heather?” came her soft voice once more.

I hated that name. Heather. It was enough to make my dick wither.

But my bros handled it better.

“You won’t,” rumbled Will, resting one hand on top of hers reassuringly. “We won’t let it.”

“Never again,” swore Tim. “We’ll never make that mistake with you.”

But balance had to be struck in the world, and Macy wanted us to do something for the poor thing. And what our girl wants, she gets. So yeah, we checked our ex into a facility that helps with mood disorders, and last we heard, the blonde’s put on weight and is going to therapy three times a week. She’s young still. She’ll be fine.

But more important is our relationship with Macy. Because the teen is the answer to our dreams, the mother of our child, and the lover of seven men. Yes, she takes us deep in her body all the time, screaming and crying to the heavens. Yes, she rides the dick wall with glee, humping each of our cocks one after another. Or she takes seven cocks simultaneously, opening her holes for an unbelievable pummel.

But psychologically, she’s okay too. Macy has accepted that we’ll always be the way we are, the good, the bad and the ugly for better or worse. And she’s realized that there’s more than one side when it comes to using someone. Because yes, we used her. We used that sweet female body as a vessel for our heir, as the receptacle for our desires.

But at the same time, Macy’s benefitted as well. The cookbook’s out now, published by Morgan Enterprises, and we’re in talks to buy a network. That’s right. Our girl wants to be on TV, and we’re gonna make it happen, even if it means owning the Food Channel to give her a platform.

So yeah. Benefits run both ways in this relationship, and although it sounds materialistic, that’s the hard reality of life. But underneath it all is something much more solid. Love. There’s real love, caring and adoration, and we never hesitate to reiterate how much she means to us.

“Sweet thing,” growls Ford, tracing a finger over her clit, watching as the girl moans and twists, spreading her legs even more. “Are you ready?”

She mewls a bit, titties heaving.

“I don’t know,” comes that whisper, eyes flickering as she gazes over her shoulder at Ford. “I don’t know because I’m already so stuffed.”