Pregnant By My Stepbrother
“Fuck, you’re drenched,” he growls. “This is going to be amazing.”
And then it happens. Tim begins increasing the pressure against my little hole, and at first, nothing happens.
“You’re too big!” I cry out. “I can’t do it!”
But he merely shakes his head, every muscle in his chest tense, his abs rock hard.
“Yes, you can little girl. Just relax. You’re soaked, so I know you can stretch.”
Then, the pressure increases again, and the head of his cock slides into my plush interior. I let out a low wail because I feel like I’m being split in half, but it’s so good too. My fingers find my nipples and I begin tugging on them as the pressure in my pussy intensifies.
“Unnnnh,” I cry out. “Oh god!”
“You’re doing well,” Tim growls in back of me. “Just a little more, baby girl.”
But I know Tim’s just trying to soothe me because he’s probably only in a few inches. Sure enough, when I glance back, I see that only his head has made penetration and I cry out again.
“Oh god! How much more?”
But then Tim reaches around and begins circling my clit with his fingers. I tense, and then sparkles begin to build in my pelvis and I let out another breathy moan.
“That’s it,” he growls. “Relax sweetheart, and let the juices flow. It’ll feel good.”
Sure enough, I gush again with desire and the added lubrication helps him ease another few inches inside.
“Mmm!” I cry out. “Oh god! Fuck!”
“Almost there,” he rasps. “You’re doing well.”
Then, with one last push, he’s balls deep and I’m completely impaled on that enormous length. We stop for a moment, both of us breathing heavily. His big hand strokes my hip before moving up my back to caress my skin.
“You really are as soft as a petal, sweetheart,” he rasps. “So beautiful.”
With that, my pussy clutches around him as he begins to move. The penetration is so intense and yet wonderful too. I gasp, bracing my hands against a nearby chair as my breasts sway beneath my torso. A heavenly pressure is beginning to build inside, and then with an unexpected jolt, it overtakes me.
“Oh Tim!” I scream, my pussy convulsing in ecstatic spasms. “Unnnh!”
The gorgeous stranger erupts as well, his hands gripping my hips as his cock jerks and begins to spray inside me.
“Fuck!” he curses. “Oh shit!”
But it feels too good, and both of us continue to shake, overcome by the ecstasy of our climaxes. He pulses for what feels like forever, filling me to the brim with thick male seed, and my pussy pulls it in deeper with every ecstatic tremor.
After a while, the shudders die down and he slides himself out of my body, that enormous length glistening with our mixed juices.
“Fuck Petal,” he breathes. “You’re so beautiful.”
And then he reaches for his wallet and pulls out another one hundred dollar bill as an additional tip.
“How many of those do you have?” I ask coyly. “You certainly came prepared.” He swats my bottom playfully, making the creamy flesh jiggle.
“As many as I need,” he growls in return before rolling it into another cylinder and inserting it into my pussy. “I want my seed to stay in you sweetheart. I want to plug you up so that none of it escapes, and this is the perfect cork.”
I gasp because these are the words and gestures of a nasty, possessive man, but the fact is that we don’t even know each other. Tim’s a client, and I’m a dancer at the Krazy Kat. So where is this going exactly?
4
Tim
* * *
Fuck, last week was so wrong, and yet I can’t get what happened out of my head because Petal was so sweet yet dirty at the same time. I understand that men get lap dances all the time because it’s part and parcel of going to a strip club. But does that happen? Do dancers let men touch them, sample them, and ultimately taste their curves however they want?
After all, I was at my most debauched. Sure, I go to strip clubs every now and then, but it’s not a regular thing. I don’t consider myself one of “those guys” because “those guys” are usually losers. It’s just a way to relax with a drink and some pretty girls. Yet that last time at the Krazy Kat blew me away. Petal is everything I’ve been looking for in a woman: a vixen, yet somehow innocent too. She’s got lush curves, a willing body, and a sweet smile that has me still thinking about her even now.
That’s what’s so fucked up. Tonight is the night of the bachelor auction, and although I’m here in person, I’m not here in spirit. I’m still mooning over the gorgeous dancer, unable to get her out of my mind. Yet ironically, at the moment, I’m standing backstage with ten or so other guys, about to go out onto a stage myself. We’re getting dressed before the auction, or undressed, I should say. We have the most ridiculous get-ups, reminiscent of a Chippendales costumes with the dark trousers, white cuffs and a white collar – but no shirt. What the fuck? It’s ridiculous, but the other guys are already passing around a bottle of baby oil, smoothing it onto their torsos so they gleam.