by Freya Kane
Stroking my inner walls with a dexterity beyond what any cock, even one as delicious as his, could manage, Parker had me teetering on the edge of an orgasm in minutes. Then he looked up and lifted that talented mouth off my body to say, “Honeybee DNA, got it. What next?”
Almost growling with frustration, it was my turn to tangle my hands in Parker’s dark hair and shove his head down to where I needed it. Parker’s tongue returned to his enthusiastic work of flickering inside my body and circling my folds before finally FINALLY settling on lapping at my clit.
“Honeybee DNA,” I moaned, trying to hold onto my thoughts while waves of pleasure rolled across me. “It was meant to help with propagation. . . ahhhhh right there! It was to increase the fertility-” My voice broke as Parker’s tongue brought me to a shuddering orgasm, my second of the day.
As I lay gasping on the bed, Parker climbed on top of me as best he could with my large belly in the way. He leaned over and kissed my lips for the first time, and I tasted the same cloyingly sweet flavor from my juices coating his lips.
"Increasing the fertility, huh?" he asked with a grin as he lined his cock up with my pussy and slammed home. He went still inside me as his hands traveled over the evidence of just how much my fertility had been increased. "It obviously increased development speed as well. You look about ready to pop."
He began moving inside me, shallow thrusts that set sparks exploding behind my eyes. I could feel the life inside my shifting with his thrusts. Parker had an iron control that impressed me even as it infuriated me. He continued those slow, shallow thrusts that gave just enough stimulation to drive me crazy but nowhere enough to bring me closer to the orgasm I desperately needed.
“Do you think it’s human?” he asked, voicing my own secret fear.
I whimpered, and Parker’s hand moved to where we were joined, sliding between my folds to find the nub of my clit. “I think it’s human, but I think it’s something else too.” I was writhing on the bed, desperate for Parker to take me harder and deeper, anything to let me break through this dam and release the torrent of pleasure within me.
The two orgasms had been nothing but tiny raindrops in the storm that was coming. Since the moment that gold liquid poured over us, my body had been a live wire of pleasure and need. Sensing how desperate I was with the same awareness that had allowed Parker to feel the moment his seed took hold in me, he began deepening his thrusts. Every inch of his length filled me, stretching my pussy and taking me to higher and higher levels of pleasure.
A gold haze filled my vision and shuddered as Parker’s rough fingertips skated over my clit, my dripping juices covering us both as he pounded into me, the force of his thrusts bouncing my bountiful breasts. I could feel myself on the edge of an orgasm that had the potential to splinter me apart with the force of pleasure.
I looked up at Parker and saw a look of pure, blissed-out pleasure across his face. I didn't love him. I didn't even really like him, and I still disagreed with his views, but in that moment as I teetered on the edge of what I knew would be the most powerful orgasm of my life, I wondered if what we had created with this mixture of science and natural would save or destroy the world.
Then, as one last jarring thrust pushed me over the edge, I stopped caring.
I felt the first, hot jets of Parker’s come splash inside me, triggering my own release scant seconds later. My pussy squeezed his cock like a wet fist, wringing a heart stopping orgasm out of his body until he collapsed on top of my round belly, gasping for breath.
While Parker was reveling in the aftershocks of his release, I was still caught up in my own. Wave after wave of golden pleasure coursed through me, igniting every nerve ending in an endless spiral that left me breathless and boneless.
When I finally came back to myself, Parker had slumped beside me. “I know what you mean to do,” he said, without opening his eyes.
“Do you?” I asked, collecting my clothes from the messy pile of the floor.
Parker sat up and watched me cautiously. “You aren’t leaving, are you?”
“Just for a time,” I said, smoothing down my wrinkled skirt. “Science got me pregnant and you’re damn sure that science is going to help me deliver.” Parker followed me to the car, trailing behind my like a lost puppy.
“Don’t worry, Parker,” I added. “I’ll bring her back.”
*****
So that's how it all happened. Believe me, I know it sounds crazy. I took a six-month leave of absence at work and came back with a curly haired blonde toddler in tow. Everyone cooed over how pretty she was, and especially fascinating were her pale blue eyes that somehow managed to glint gold in the right light.
I still don’t know if this solemn, wide-eyed creature that had forced its way into my body and life was the world’s salvation or undoing, but, like it or not, she was here and I was never one to stop an experiment midway. So I watched and waited and never forgot the scent of honey.
Fertilized Next Door
by
Freya Kane
I was never really been the girl next door that every guy wanted. I’m not model skinny and so many people can’t see beyond that. My stomach is soft and squishy instead of being rock hard with a six pack. My thighs touch each other and my breasts are far from being perky mouthfuls.
The Hollywood pretty boys never did too much for me either. Everyone else looked at a guy in a tight pair of jeans and a tee-shirt with hard, toned muscles and wanted to rip that shirt off and see what was underneath.
I just found it boring.
I pretended, though. No one wants to be the weird person who doesn't find the celebrity of the week attractive. So I would swoon and leer at the lifeguards down by the beach and joke about how much I wanted to fuck the new Hollywood idol, all the while wondering what was wrong with me.
In school, I had always found my older male teachers attractive. As an adult, I caught myself checking out my forty-year-old boss more than once. That wasn't the worst of it though.
You see, there was one person who did get my heart racing and my panties damp, and I felt like there was something a bit wrong with myself for feeling this way. That didn’t stop me from letting my fingers do the walking, right down into my panties every time I saw him. I was in serious lust with my next door neighbor.
Mr. Collins was the proper and classy middle aged man that lived in the house next door to me. He had to be in his mid-forties, and he looked it. Instead of trendy graphic T-shirts and trucker hats, he wore argyle sweaters and tweed jackets and he always seemed to have a thick book in his hand. He was as far away from the modern ideal of what is sexy to a woman in my age group as you could get, and there was no one else in the world that got my pussy as wet as he did.
In the two years I had lived in this house, he had never once said a pleasant word to me. My waves and smiles were greeted with blank stares and curt nods that seemed to be what passed for a warm greeting for him. I had occasionally passed him when he returned home from his job as a professor at a local university, and his reactions remained unpleasant as ever.
Despite all that, I still wanted him!
***
I hadn’t seen Mr. Collins in a few days. Usually, I saw him picking up his mail in the mornings as I left for work. He had such a precise routine that after two days of not seeing him I started to get worried that something had happened to him.
Steeling my courage, I cut across his lawn and walked to his front door. I stood in front of the worn red paint for a moment before knocking loudly. No answer. I knocked even louder, but still, no one came. I twisted the knob and the door slid open easily. "Mr. Collins?” I called tentatively. “Mr. Collins, are you there?” I took a step into the house. “I haven’t seen you in a few days and I was starting to get worried. Are you okay?”
I walked into the hallway, idly noting that the house was tidy if a bit cluttered. I jumped when I heard the door slam behind me. I whirled around to see Mr. Collins standing by the door with
a sour look on his face. “What are you doing in here?” he snapped. Instead of looking prim and proper the way he looked outside of the house, he just looked irritated.
Feeling like a child with her hand in the cookie jar, I stammered. “I just haven’t seen you in a few days. I thought something might have happened to you.”
He clicked the door lock, the noise loud in the silent room. “So you came here to rob me then?” he snarled, his dark eyes glaring at me and his voice sounding clipped and harsh. Despite my nervousness at being locked in his house, I could feel my nipples tightening and my pussy starting to get wet.
“No, of course not! I came here to see if you were okay.”
Anyone else would have been happy with someone showing concern for them, but not Mr. Collins. “Do you think I’m that weak? I’m not some ancient old man that can’t take care of myself.” He fastened the chain lock and started walking towards me, covering the distance quickly. “You think I can’t take care of himself?” Mr. Collins was standing in front of me, his masculine scent of bourbon with the slightest hint peppermint filling my nose. Despite myself, I shivered and pressed my thighs together, trying to get some kind of friction against my dripping pussy.
“I bet you think someone like me wouldn’t even know what to do with a nice looking girl such as yourself. I bet you think I’m limp and that’s why you weren’t afraid to walk into a strange man’s house.” Mr. Collins stood right in front of me, and my eyes flickered downward to see the bulge in the front of his professorial tweed pants. I looked back up at his face, his salt and pepper hair and his dark, flinty eyes. “You were wrong.”
I didn’t try to run away or recoil in horror, and that seemed to surprise Mr. Collins for a moment. “Girls these days,” he said, shaking his head. “All so dirty, ready to spread their legs for anything." He took a step closer until he was pressed against me, invading my personal space. "Are you dirty, Mary?”
“N-no,” I stammered, but the wetness soaking into my lace panties spoke otherwise. “I was just concerned.” Mr. Collins stepped forward, and I instinctively backed up until I felt my back press against the wall, trapping me. He plucked an umbrella from the stand by the door and pressed the end of it between my legs, rubbing my pussy through my jeans. The rubber bottom was hard and unyielding as it pressed the soaked fabric of my panties and jeans against my sensitive flesh.
“I think you’re lying,” he said. Mr. Collins pulled the umbrella away from me, and I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped me when that wonderful pressure against my clit was removed. Leaning back against the wall with my legs spread, the wet spot on the crotch of my jeans was clearly visible. Mr. Collins was taking a good long look. “Your body can’t lie, girl. Tell me, Mary, are you a nasty girl?”
I couldn’t take my eyes off that growing bulge in the front of his pants. Like most girls, I had more than my share of teacher/student fantasies, but mine never seemed to focus on the young teacher that was fresh out of college. I liked my men more distinguished and with a few years on them. They tended to be more appreciative of a woman with curves like mine, and less focused on image. Mr. Collins’ tweed jackets and clipped British accept more than satisfied that attraction. Playing the reluctant virgin was pretty fun as well.
“I’m not a dirty girl, sir,” I denied, vehemently. “I never had a man touch me there! I’m saving myself!”
Mr. Collins’ dry hands went to the button of my jeans, yanking it open and pulling them down to my knees, leaving me clad in just a sodden pair of white lace panties from the waist down.
“I can smell you from here. Good girls don’t get wet for older men.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” I answered, wanting nothing more than to feel him touch me. “I know it’s wrong to have a crush on my professor, and I can’t imagine you’d want someone like me.”
Mr. Collins’ face softened at my words, and, for the first time, he began to drop the façade of the cruel and unpleasant taskmaster. “I prefer my women to be more. . . lush,” he growled, his hand ghosting over my stomach before dipping lower. “I like a woman with something to grab onto.” His hand slipped between my thighs and brushed against the soaking crotch of my panties before moving the scrap of fabric aside.
Gently, he pushed his fingers inside my panties, pushing them fully inside my sopping cunt. He began pumping his fingers in and out of me, my juices making his fingers glide easily. “You’re so wet, I could nearly slide my whole hand in you, young lady.” My muscles clenched around his strong hand at the image. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You really are a naughty girl.”
Spread out against the wall, I trembled as Mr. Collins fucked me with his hand. The culmination of all my fantasies had me close to orgasm after just a few strokes. “Since you were concerned about your silly old neighbor, you deserve to come first, my beauty.” Mr. Collins rubbed his thumb against my clit and the pleasure rolled over me like a tidal wave. My juices poured over his powerful hand like a flood, soaking him with the evidence of my arousal.
When I came back to my senses, the wall was the only thing holding my shaky legs up. I kicked my pants off and pulled my shirt over my head. I had just thrown on a tee-shirt before running over, so I wasn’t wearing a bra. I’m not bragging when I say that my tits were pretty impressive. They might not be the perky porn star breasts that defied gravity and could work as flotation devices but they were large and sensitive and fun for everyone to play with. Mr. Collins eyes widened, and for all he played the dirty teacher, I was fairly sure that it has been quite a long time since he had seen a pair of tits this good anywhere but a TV screen.
“You’re right, Mr. Collins,” I said, stepping closer to him and letting him watch them bounce with each step. “I am a nasty girl.” I stood in front of him and slowly started drop to my knees. “Every time you would yell at me for walking across your lawn, it would make me wet. I’d sit on my couch and touch myself and think about how I wanted you to force your cock down my throat.”
I looked up, and I saw Mr. Collins thin lips curl into a smile. “You’re on your knees already,” he said. “You’re not leaving here until you’ve done your homework, young lady. No one knows you’re here. I could keep you here for days.” I shivered and watched with anticipation as Mr. Collins unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. He pushed them down, taking his plain black boxer briefs with them and revealing a thick cock already swelled to a full erection.
He stroked his cock, fully aware of my rapt gaze. “This isn’t Viagra either. This dick is 100% me. Every single time I see you outside in your yard, bending over to water your plants or sweeping your walkway, all I can do is stare at that body. I was so snappish to you because you made me hard. Every. Single. Time.” His cock was thick and huge, at least nine inches. It looked out of place hanging exposed between those tweed-clad legs, an odd juxtaposition to his straight-laced attire. I couldn’t wait to feel it in my mouth.
“Yes, Mr. Collins,” I said obediently. I cupped his balls in my hand, stroking the dark, wiry hair, and leaned forward between his thighs to take the head of his cock in my mouth. My free hand pressed into his thigh, the flesh hard and strong under my fingers. I relaxed my throat and took him in deeper and deeper until the head was resting in the back of my throat and my nose was pressed against the flesh of his belly.
I bobbed my head up and down, taking him deep into my throat before sliding back up his shaft, licking the vein on his cock like I was following a treasure map. I lifted my mouth off his cock and sucked one of his balls into my mouth, the salt and pepper hair covering them reminding me that I wasn't just sucking anyone's dick, this was Mr. Collins' dick.
I sucked his other ball into my mouth, impressing even myself with my ability to fit his full sack in my mouth at once. I hummed tunelessly until I felt Mr. Collins hands yank sharply on my hair, pulling me off his balls and pushing me now onto my hands and knees on the floor.
For an older man, Mr. Collins was pretty fast because before I cou
ld collect myself or sit up, I felt that thick rod slam home into my pussy. I groaned loudly as Mr. Collins began fucking me with that glorious cock of his. “You’re a dirty, nasty old professor!” I cried, digging my fingers into the carpet as his cock pounded into my dripping cunt. “Luring young girls in here so you can do nasty, filthy things to them!”
He pulled his cock out of me just long enough to roll me over so I was on my back. From that position, I could see that the hair covering his chest matched the greying strands on his head, and it turned me on even more.
“I’m not the only nasty one here,” he grunted, punctuating each word with a jarring thrust. “Lusting after your teacher! Detention for you!”
That taboo thought made my pussy clench around his cock even tighter. “Oh Professor, you fuck me so good!” I yelled.
