Hot Sugar
So getting DP’d was totally normal. The big man dicking me with a toy as I took cock up my butt is par for the course, just a standard part of our love play. And as I moaned again, the Eiffel Tower seemed to wink.
“Unnnnh,” came my mewling cry. “Oh god, Mason!”
Because it’s never been this good. After a year together, I’ve learned to hold my head up high. I’ve learned that it doesn’t matter what other people say, or what other people think. What matters is our loving. And Mason’s never let me down. He guided me through the PR mess, helped me overcome that devastating depression. Nor did he leave Channing Corp. But the billionaire did pull back from some responsibilities, delegating more duties to various vice presidents and other executives. As a result, the man has become more engaged in our relationship, as well as in the work itself.
And now he’s taken me to Paris to make up for that missed trip so long ago.
“Fuuuuck,” is the alpha’s low roar as he pumps my bottom. The sound of flesh slapping is obscene, his thighs hitting my jiggly rump again and again. “Shit, your anus is tight. You can’t imagine how it looks baby, that pink rim gripping my cock.”
But I want it a different way. I can sense my man’s balls tightening and lifting as he pushes into my rectum, and this isn’t what we agreed on. I want more. Because a couple weeks ago, we talked about having a baby, and it’s my dearest desire now.
“No Mason!” comes my breathless pant. “Don’t come yet. Put it in my pussy big boy!”
And the big man hears me. With a quick flick of his wrist, he pulls the dildo out of my puss and crams that fat cock in with the next thrust.
“Ohhhhhh!” is my delighted moan, legs spread as I’m fucked so good. “Oh god, yes yes yes!”
Because this is how it’s meant to be. The alpha in me, every which way, filling my holes as he fills me full of love. But right now, I wanted that love in a literal sense. I want sperm. Man milk. Goopy DNA. And as those thrusts increase in ferocity, becoming harsh pummels, my scream comes again.
“Fuck your baby into me, Mr. Channing! Fuck me, fuck me!”
And the words send Mason off into a spiral. He grabs my curvy hips tight with two big hands before stiffening abruptly and letting go with a mighty roar.
“SHIT!” is that barbaric cry, penis jetting mightily in my inner cavern. “Fuck this shit!”
And I cry out as well, screaming my ecstasy to the heavens.
“Yes Mason! Yes Mr. Channing! Give it to me, fill me with your baby.”
Because oh god, it feels so good and so right. We were meant to be this way, locked like puzzle pieces, our bodies struggling as our minds become one. Hot sperm pulses into my cunt, great white lashes seeding my fertile form, sure to take hold.
“Yes!” I scream again, big boobies dangling as I’m overfilled with his virility. “Yes, yes!”
And soaring off into ecstasy, my mind forms one last thought. Is this what sugar babies do? Is this what sweet girls do with their sugar daddies? Because our relationship was never meant to be. It wasn’t even supposed to be a relationship. But against all odds, here I am now, pussy spasming again and again on his pole as we try to conceive.
And the billionaire wants it too, his cock releasing lash after lash of the good stuff, the baby batter so virile. The alpha’s just as helpless as me, losing his senses, spinning into the heavens as he empties into my sweetest spot. So yes, some may say I got lucky. Some may say this could have been a disaster, and it very nearly was. But I say never give up because my sugar daddy is gonna be a daddy for real now … and it’s absolutely right, in every way.
THE END