by Freya Kane
I let out a loud cry as I came, my passage gripping Ronan’s dick even tighter. Ronan growled in my ear and I felt a rush of heat as he emptied himself inside me, filling my ass with his come.
***
Since our anal adventure, Ronan had seemed even more skittish around me than the first time. He knew that there was only one thing left to do, but he just didn’t seem to get that the only person concerned with protecting my virginity wasn’t me.
We were at home, sitting on the couch and watching a boring movie. The scene changed, and for the first time, the movie started to get a bit interesting. The two main characters that I'd been ignoring for the past hour were in bed together, and the girl was on top of the man, grinding on his cock, her breasts bouncing as she moaned.
“We could be doing that instead of watching it,” I said.
I glanced at Ronan’s lap and wasn’t surprised in the slightest to see that he was half-hard. I’d been wet since before the movie started.
“Natasha, I just don’t think you’re ready.”
I stood up, standing between Ronan’s legs. Slowly I peeled off my shirt and bra and dropped them on the floor. “I think,” I began, kicking off my sandals. “That the person who decides when I’m ready to have sex is me. Being a virgin doesn’t make me naïve.” I pushed my jeans down to the floor, dragging my panties with them and kicked them away. I stood in front of Ronan totally naked.
"Look at me, Ronan. You’ve watched me touch my pussy. You’ve had your fingers inside me. You’ve eaten me out, and you’ve come in my mouth. You’ve fucked my ass. I’ve enjoyed every single thing we’ve done. I’m standing here with my nipples hard and my pussy dripping wet saying that I. Am. Ready.” I sat down on Ronan’s lap, grinding myself on his erection, knowing that when I stood up the front of his pants would be wet from my arousal.
"I want your come inside me. I'm not on any birth control. I don't have any condoms, and I don't care. I want to feel you come in me, and whatever happens, happens. But Ronan, I want your dick in me now." I stood up, satisfied to see the wet spot on the front of his pants. "I'll be in your bed," I added, walking to his room without looking back.
It only took a minute for Ronan to follow me, leaving a trail of clothes behind him as he stripped. I couldn’t stop myself from staring at his impossibly sexy body as he paused at the foot of the bed. His hand stroked his erection, and he paused, staring down at me.
“You’re right. This was always your choice, and I got a bit carried away with the idea of protecting you. I’m just so. . .” he trailed off. “I guess honored is the word, that you want me to be the person you share this with.” Ronan climbed on the bed and settled himself against me. His lips brushed mine, the kiss almost chaste except for the feeling of his erection pressing against my lower lips.
I rocked my hips against his, and Ronan pressed forward, the head of his cock slipping inside my pussy. His lips never left mine as his hips pressed forward. About halfway inside, his cock hit my barrier. Ronan paused for a moment before pushing harder, tearing my cherry and sheathing himself in my fully.
The sharp pain cut through the pleasure for a moment, and Ronan stopped to give me a moment to adjust to the sensation of my pussy being completely filled. The pain was forgotten in just a minute though. Ronan’s cock was touching every inch of my pussy, spreading me wide and it felt incredible.
“We should have been doing this ages ago!” I sighed, bucking my hips upward as a signal for him to move. Ronan pulled back until only the tip of his cock was still inside me before slamming back inside me. “And fuck if the thought of getting you pregnant doesn’t make me even harder.”
“Yes!” I shrieked, my hands gripping the headboard. “Fuck me! Breed me!”
Some time part of me wondered just where the shy, neat freak I used to be had gotten to, but Ronan was finally fucking me hard and not treating me like he was afraid to break me, so I decided quickly that I didn’t miss her.
Ronan’s pubic bone was rubbing against my clit with every thrust, and I could feel him hitting my g-spot inside me. My body was started to clench around him, growing tighter and tighter as I got closer and closer to coming on his cock.
“Ronan,” I moaned. “Ronan I’m going to c-“ My words cut off as it happened. Like a wet fist, my slick walls gripped Ronan and his iron control dropped at the same moment. I felt the first rush of heat pour into me as Ronan emptied his cock inside my fertile pussy.
Of course, that really wasn't the first time his come had ended up in me. I flashed back to Ronan jacking off and spurting his come all over my spread pussy or telling me to finger myself with my come coated fingers. He was just as eager as I was to get his seed inside me.
My orgasm had been winding down, but when I felt Ronan's come coating my womb the pleasure redoubled. For all I knew, it had already taken root, and the idea of my breasts and belly swelling with proof of our desire for each other had me writhing in pleasure even more.
Finally spent, Ronan slumped against me but made no move to withdraw his cock from my pussy.
“You’re always right,” Ronan said quietly. “We should have been doing that ages ago.”
I giggled. Ronan moved to pull out of me, but instead, I rolled him over onto his back, and settled myself on top of him, his half hard cock still buried in me.
“I have a feeling you’ll be up and ready to go in a few minutes,” I said, squeezing my breasts and pinching my pink nipples until they stood up at attention. I rolled my hips and I felt Ronan’s cock twitch and I knew he’d be proving me right and standing at attention in a few minutes.
“We have a lot of time to make up for.”
***
Neither of us were sure just when it happened, but Ronan’s seed had definitely taken hold. Once he finally took my virginity, Ronan and I fucked at least once a day, and the thought of using condoms or pulling out never occurred to us. Once I started getting sick in the mornings, I took a test to confirm what we already knew. One big blue plus sign later and I was officially pregnant.
We both waited eagerly for me to start showing, and luckily since I was already pretty slender around the middle it didn’t take long.
Once my belly popped, I looked like I had swallowed a beach ball, and Ronan couldn’t get enough of it. My breasts had already been pretty big, but they grew even more and Ronan was totally obsessed with them.
“I read somewhere that if we stimulate your nipples enough we can make your milk come out early,” Ronan said, kissing his way down my chest. “I want to taste your milk, baby, and I don’t want to wait until you give birth to do it.”
I couldn’t deny that the thought of Ronan drinking my milk made my already soaking pussy even wetter.
“Yes, Ronan!” I moaned, tangling my hands in his hair and pressing his lips against my hard nipple.
Ronan’s hand skated over my swollen belly before finding its way between my thighs to the pulsing wet slit of my pussy. He eased two fingers inside me while his mouth worked at my nipple and his free hand massaged my breast.
The sensations filling me were incredible. My breasts felt full and engorged, almost the way I imagined Ronan’s cock might feel when he was close to coming. His hand on the curve of my breast wasn’t gentle, but it felt so good that gentleness was the last thing I wanted.
Ronan’s fingers pumped in and out of me, his thumb rubbing my clit while he increased the suction on my nipple. My whole body seemed to tighten for a moment, and then the most explosive feeling I’d ever felt came over me. I wasn’t just coming from his hand between my legs. I could feel the release in my sensitive nipples as well as my milk spurted into Ronan’s mouth.
He moaned loudly at the first mouthful, and he continued to suck, filling his mouth with my delicious milk. My other nipple was dripping as well, begging for attention. I reached up and pinched the nipple, shivering in pleasure as another drop of milk dripped down the curve of my breast onto my belly.
Ronan lifted his he
ad and looked at me, creamy white milk smeared over his lips. “So delicious,” he murmured before lowering his head and taking my other nipple into his mouth and repeating the process.
He wasn’t even touching my pussy anymore, but I could still feel the pleasure from him nursing. The tenseness was building in me again, and I realized I was about to come from nothing but Ronan’s mouth on my nipple.
“Ronan,” I sobbed. “Baby, don’t stop nursing from me. I’m going to come just from this. Fuck!” I broke off in a cry of bliss as my orgasm rolled over me and my empty pussy pulsed. I bucked my hips upward, my big belly making it difficult to move too much.
When my shudders ended, Ronan sat back between my legs on the bed and took his cock in his hand. He'd been rock hard since the beginning, and I expected him to slam into me, but instead, he started jacking his cock, aiming it between my legs at my bare pussy.
“Remember the first time I did this, baby?” he asked, his voice tight as he tried not to come too fast. “You were still a virgin, but I still got to come in your pussy. I like to think that’s when I got you pregnant. That very first time.”
“Do it,” I groaned, spreading my legs a bit wider. “Give me that come, Ronan!”
An instant later, he did just that. Thick ropes of his pearly white come painted stripes across my pussy lips, and I shuddered in another gentle wave of bliss as my greedy pussy reveled in being covered with Ronan’s come.
I’d come a long way from being a virginal neat freak to being pregnant and begging to be drenched in come, and I loved the new me!
Fertile Country
by
Freya Kane
I was not a pretty pretty princess.
My name is Jayne, and I grew up behind the rough wood of my Mama’s bar. Wood scarred by knives and cigarette butts ground out by rough men my Mama warned me away from. Listening was never my strong suit, a trait born into me. When I was eighteen Mama married a dark-eyed, unsmiling man named John. John was gruff and absent more than he was home, coasting down the highways on big rigs filled with unripe fruit, headed for the markets in middle America.
That same year brought another new addition to the bar - green-eyed Parker Weston, the new bartender. Parker’s face wore a perpetual cocky grin. He was two years my senior, and I felt like a gawky teenager, coltish long legs and skinny arms making me invisible to Parker as he flirted his way through every buxom beauty in the county.
John flipped his rig outside of Mobile six months into their marriage, and he died under several tons of burning steel, the scent of scorched apples mixing with diesel in the air. After that, Parker assumed the role of “man of the bar,” handling drunks and inventory orders with an ease that John never managed to master.
When I turned nineteen, Parker bought me a set of throwing knives and spent countless hours teaching me perfect accuracy. He never wore cologne, but the clean scent of Ivory soap and engine grease burned into my memory as he guided my aim.
“You never know what’s out there, Jayne,” he said, wry grin crossing his lips. “Always a good plan to have a backup or two.” I flicked my wrist and the knife hit a bullseye.
I had practiced with those knives until the shed wall was pockmarked with misses, but that one bullseye made the hours worth it when Parker let out a whoop of approval and swung me around in the warm sun.
***
Familiarly made the memories of feeling like a gawky teenager fade. This time, when I rounded the bar, all eyes were on me for a much different reason. Long legs tanned from too many hours outside in the Texas sun, tattered denim shorts just long enough to be almost decent and a white tank top that hugged every curve guaranteed that every trucker who passed through would have a good tip for me.
Parker was behind the bar, pulling drafts and pouring shots for the regulars and the drifters, and eyeing me during the lulls. These past few months we had been thick as thieves, and as we grew closer so did the tension.
Parker spent his nights behind the bar, serving the truckers and farmers that filled the roadhouse. Days would find him shirtless, his skin darkening in the hot sun as he repaired fences, rebuilt engines, and replaced floorboards, restoring the house and bar to a glory that I was fairly certain had never actually existed.
I lost my virginity in the back of a truck, like any good country girl, and in the dim light with my eyes squinted the boy could have been Parker’s twin. His eyes were the wrong color, but his lips were soft when he kissed me lips and his hands were just rough enough when they pushed down my jeans. If the name I moaned when his cock pushed inside me wasn’t his, he kept quiet.
Parker had never touched me. Almost a year of living side by side, of innocent brushes of hands and racing hormones, and Parker had held himself in check. Tonight though, something hung in the air. Like a drop in pressure that warns of an impending thunderstorm, something was brewing.
Mama was out of town, visiting a cousin back East and leaving me in charge. Last call rolled by and the last stragglers wandered out into the humid night, and Parker twisted the lock on the front door, flipping the sign to closed.
I was playing with fire. I knew it. If I misread Parker, everything we had could be torn apart and lost to awkward silences.
It was worth the risk.
I bent over the bar, wiping up a night’s worth of spilled beer, leaning over just enough that the shorts rode up and he could see a flash of black lace I was wearing underneath peeking out if he was watching.
He was definitely watching.
His hands were on me before I could react, pressing my breasts against the sticky bar top, the last remnants of spilled whiskey and beer soaking into my shirt as Parker molded his hips against my ass. His erection was a hard line pressing into the cleft of my ass, and this was the moment. I could shove him back and we could both laugh it off, or I could widen my legs and arch my hips closer to him, grinding my ass against his cock.
“Jayne,” Parker’s voice was a throaty growl as he grabbed my hips and pulling me closer.
Almost a year of simmering attraction and affection had finally reached a boiling point between us. It just seemed right that the first time Parker fucked me I was bent over the bar we had met beside.
The button on my shorts clattered to the floor as Parker ripped them open and yanked them down, leaving me naked from the waist down. He ever so gently ran his hand across the curve of my ass, the calluses on his palms feeling rough against my soft skin.
I looked over her shoulder, meeting Parker’s eyes. He looked almost dazed at his own boldness, his hands hesitating on the crease of my thigh scant inches from where I was desperate to have him touch me.
“Parker. Parker,” I said, breaking him out of his reverie. “Touch me, Parker. I want you to feel how wet I am.” I reached back and took his hand in mine, guiding it those last few inches until his fingers brushed my wetness. “I want this too. I’ve always wanted this.”
Parker smirked, his momentary hesitation forgotten. He turned me around, almost knocking me down as the shorts and panties tangled around my feet, and then dropped to his knees and pushed my legs apart. The first touch of his tongue on my outer lips buckled my knees so Parker had mercy on me. With an ease born of long years of heavy work, he lifted me up onto the bar, tossing away the clothes caught around my cowboy boot before spreading my legs wide again.
Parker ate pussy like a starving man. His tongue traced the contours of my lower lips before delving inside, taking the time to open my cunt like a flower. His tongue flickered across my clit before drawing back, giving me just enough pleasure to bring me close to the edge before easing back.
Somehow it seemed appropriate that the first kiss this man gave me was between my legs.
Parker lifted his head and smacked his lips exaggeratedly before pulling me in for a kiss. His tongue was soft and his lips tasted like my juices. Caught on the edge of orgasm, my whole body thrumming with desire, I spoke up, “Gonna fuck me, Parks?”
Parker
never liked that nickname, and I knew I had chosen the right words to push him over the edge.
Hooking my leg across the small of his back, I pulled him closer and unfastened his pants, cursing whoever invented button-fly jeans. His cock sprang free, hard and throbbing in my small hand.
Using just the tip of my fingers, I traced the vein from root to head before gripping it in my hand and stroking slowly. His cock felt like silk over steel, and I wanted to take my time exploring every inch of it.
“Do you want to fuck me, Parker?” I asked, innocently.
“Yes,” Parker ground out. Rocking his hips against my hand, searching for more friction.
