by Danielle Lux
I’m going to fuck you, I thought. I'm going to fuck you again, if it's the last thing I do.
“Finished,” said Abigail. “Let's get this started.”
She held my dick and slowly guided it into Emily’s pussy. Emily shivered nervously.
“It's ok,” Abigail said, “I'm going to make sure it goes in nice and slow.” She turned to me: “No moving.”
I did as Abigail said, staying still as Abigail pushed my cock deeper into Abigail. She had one hand on my shaft and the other on my ass, to push me forward.
My glans was barely inside Emily but her pussy was already so tight. Even though she had a husband, she felt like a virgin.
Emily gripped the sheets, her face contorted in a mixture of pleasure and pain.
Abigail pushed my cock further in, but I felt my glans bump against something. I was confused at first, but then realised what it was.
“Wait, do you still have a hymen? What's going on here? I thought you were married?”
Emily looked terrified and ashamed.
“I… I…” she stuttered.
“Emily’s husband,” said Abigail, “is very small. He has what I believe is called a ‘micro penis’. He's the only man Emily’s ever had sex with, so it looks like he never managed to, um, break her in.”
Abigail turned to Emily.
“You sure you want to go through with this?”
Emily gave a little nod. Abigail turned to me.
“Ok Jack,” she said, taking her hand off my dick. “Break her in.”
I didn't need telling twice.
I moved my hips, pushing the head of my dick against Emily’s hymen.
“It hurts, it hurts!” Emily wailed. Abigail stroked her hair.
“It's ok,” she told her, “it’ll only hurt for a bit. You want him to stop?”
“No…” gasped Emily, “keep going! I want to get pregnant!”
I pushed on. I felt the hymen stretching and starting to tear. Emily was crying now, the tears running down her cheeks, and she was digging her nails into my back.
That fucking hurts, I thought — and in my anger I pushed my cock into her with all my might.
Emily screamed as the head of my dick tore through her hymen. I felt warm blood on my shaft as I buried myself as deep as I could go. When I hit her cervix, Emily screamed again.
Emily’s face was a mess. Her eyes were red and snot dripped from her nose, mixing with the tears.
“It hurts,” she whimpered, “it hurts so much.”
Abigail turned to me.
“Fuck her.”
“Are you sure? She -”
“Just fuck her.”
So fuck her I did, sliding my dick in and out of Emily's tight pussy. There was blood on my shaft and a lot of blood on Abigail’s lovely cream sofa.
At first Emily tensed up in pain with every thrust, but after a while she started to enjoy it. She smiled at me — the cutest little smile, full of innocence and joy.
“I love you!” she said. “Oh god I love you!”
“You don't love him,” said Abigail, grinning. “You just love his ridiculously-oversized donkey dick.”
Abigail’s pussy started to clench, becoming even tighter. She was cumming, and the extra squeezing around my dick was too much. I’d like to say I kept going and gave her multiple orgasms, but the feeling of her super tight cunt was too amazing — and we both came together.
We lay exhausted in each other’s arms for a minute or so before I pulled out. When I removed my dick a huge load of semen and blood seeped out of Emily’s gaping vagina.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so much.” Then she fell asleep.
Abigail and I carried Emily upstairs and laid her down on Abigail’s bed. Abigail's husband and son were away for the weekend visiting relatives.
When Emily was comfy, Abigail turned to me.
“I want you to go and have a shower. And when you've finished, I want you to fuck me.”
I left Abigail’s house the next morning with a sore dick, empty balls and a big smile on my face.
As I got in my car, my phone beeped.
I looked at the screen. It was from Simon:
I'm gonna fucking kick your ass! I’ve just seen that video! You're dead!
I noticed I had another message as well, that I’d missed last night. It was from Jessica:
I need you to come round with your big dick. Simon dumped me and I want to teach him a lesson.
I grinned to myself. It looked like it was going to be an eventful day.
Then I noticed that there was another message from Emily, sent two minutes after the first:
Just don't fucking cum in my eyes this time.
I typed a reply:
I'm not making any promises.
THE END
Pregnant by my Father in Law
“You need to start standing up to your dad,” I told John for the thousandth time. “Stop letting him push you around.”
We were in the car on the way over to John’s father’s house. Allegedly for a catch-up drink, but John and I both knew the real reason—Frank was going to ask John to borrow some money.
“We’re meant to be saving for the baby,” I said, as John took the turning off the highway, “we can't go bailing your father out every time he gambles his money away.”
“To be fair,” said John, ever the diplomat, “we don't know he wants to borrow money. He might just want to see us.”
I scoffed. The only time Frank ever wanted to see his son was when he needed cash. John and Frank were complete opposites. John had a good job at an investment bank and was mild-mannered and softly spoken. Frank had barely had a job in his life, and spent his days drinking and watching sports.
John and I had been trying for a child for almost six months, but so far we’d had no luck. We had an appointment booked with a specialist to see if they could figure out what was wrong, but that wasn't for another month.
My whole life all I'd ever wanted was to have kids, and our problems conceiving were really getting me down.
As usual, Frank was drunk when we arrived.
“How's my boy,” he said, grabbing John in a headlock. “Is your fancy job going well? Filling in lots of spreadsheets?”
“Actually Dad,” said John, struggling to breathe, “most of the work I do is on—”
“Yeah, I don't care,” said Frank, letting go of John.
He turned to me.
“Sarah! How you doing, gorgeous?” He leant in and gave me a hug. He smelt of tobacco and alcohol.
Frank was almost a foot taller than John, with huge muscles and tattoos. He claimed he'd been boxer in his youth, and I was inclined to believe him.
As always he was wearing a vest top, and as his bare muscular arms rubbed against me, I was ashamed to feel a little turned on. As disgusting a person as he was, Frank was incredibly handsome, and had a way with the ladies. Even though he'd been married to John’s mother for the best part of twenty years before their divorce, I knew he had illegitimate kids all over the city.
I wish John was that fertile, said a little voice in my head. But that wasn't fair. For all I knew, it could be me who had the problem, not John.
Frank squeezed himself against my tits for a moment longer, then pulled away and led us inside. His place, as always, was a pigsty—beer cans and pizza boxes everywhere.
Frank offered us a beer—we both refused—then sat us down and told us all about his money woes. As always, none of it was his fault—he was an innocent victim of circumstance.
After John agreed to lend him two grand, Frank insisted we stay the night. The thought of staying in Frank's cramped and grotty spare room didn't appeal to me, but John agreed on our behalf. As always, he was unable to say no to his dad.
We spent the rest of the evening watching a boring football game, while Frank continued to drink.
“Hey Dad,” John said, during an ad break, “Sarah and I are trying to have a baby. How great is that
!”
I was fuming. How dare John share our private business?
“What do you mean ‘trying’?” asked Frank, not taking his eyes off the tv.
“Well, conceiving can sometime take a little while,” John went on, “in fact we’ve got an appointment with a specialist next—”
“Shush,” said Frank.”Game’s starting again.”
After another hour or so, John yawned dramatically.
“Right, I think I might pop off to bed. You coming, Sarah?”
“I'll be there in a sec,” I said. I was still furious with him.
John said his goodnights then went up the stairs.
“You really want that fag to be the father of your kids?” Frank asked, taking a drag on his cigarette. “I know he's my son, but he's hardly an alpha male. Does he still have a small dick?”
I spluttered, almost choking on my wine.
“Excuse me?”
“When he was younger we used to think he was a girl. I hope puberty was good to him—or you must own a lot of sex toys.”
I felt my cheeks glow pink. That insult had hit a bit too close to home; I'd never been able to orgasm from sex with John, and we always had to use my toys to finish the job. John didn't mind, as I'd told him that no man had ever made me cum from sex—but that was a lie. Previous lovers had made me cum like crazy when they fucked me, but John never managed it in all the three years we’d been going out.
“I’m not going to talk about our sex life with you,” I told Frank.
“I blame his mother. All the women in her family are petite and cute as hell—the kind you want to pick up and fuck against a wall. But the men are all scrawny wimps. You’d better pray you and John have a girl.”
I stood up.
“I don't have to stay here and listen to my husband be insulted,” I told him. “I'm going to bed.”
Frank just smiled.
“Well if you feel like some company, you know where I am.” He shifted his legs and I got a glimpse of his considerable bulge. He caught me looking and smiled. “My son might be lacking in the pants department, but I've got more than enough to put a smile back on your face.”
“Frank, just—fuck off!”
I stormed upstairs, fuming.
“I don't want you giving your father any money,” I told John as I crawled into bed next to him.
“What, why?”
“Because he’s an asshole!”
“Sarah, he’s my dad.”
“I don't care,” I said, sounding angrier than I meant to, “we need that money ourselves—for the baby!”
“There is no baby yet!” yelled John. But then he stopped, realising he’d gone too far.
“I'm sorry,” said John, “I shouldn't have said that, I—”
“Goodnight John,” I told him, turning away from him to lie facing the other way. John sighed.
Are you not at least going to try and fight for me? I thought. Tears trickled down my cheeks, but I kept quiet—I didn't want to give John the pleasure of knowing he'd made me cry.
Soon enough John was snoring away, and I lay there looking at the ceiling, unable to sleep.
I slipped out of bed and went downstairs to get something to eat.
I opened the fridge. Frank had to have something chocolate in here somewhere—I needed comfort food.
“You ok, darling?”
I almost jumped out of my skin. I turned to see Frank sitting on the sofa in the dark.
“I fell asleep watching the tv,” Frank said with a yawn. I've got it on some automatic timer thing, so it turns itself off after a while.”
He picked up a beer can from the table and emptied the last warm dregs into his mouth. He really was a disgusting man.
“I'm going back upstairs,” I said, trying to sound dignified. But then the emotion got too much for me, and I burst into tears.
“Hey,” said Frank, standing up. He hugged me. “It's ok, it's ok.”
I wanted to push away from Frank, tell him to fuck off again, but being embraced by his huge, muscular arms was making me feel calm and safe. It was nice to be held by a man who was taller than me for a change, too. I loved to be held by John, but it felt like hugging a friend. Frank’s hug was making me feel like his little girl.
Frank lifted my chin up with a fat finger, then wiped a tear away from my cheek.
“What's happened? If he’s done anything to you, I'll rip his arms off.”
“No,” I sobbed, “it's nothing like that. It's just…we’ve been having problems trying to have this baby, and sometimes… sometimes I feel he doesn't appreciate me.”
Frank leant down and kissed me, shoving his tongue down my throat.
I pulled away.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“If he doesn't appreciate you,” he said, “you need a man who will.”
He slipped a hand into my nightdress and ran his rough fingers over a nipple. I shuddered, my nipple growing hard from his touch.
I looked up into Frank’s ice-blue eyes. I hated him and everything he stood for, but I couldn't deny the wetness I felt between my legs.
I stood on tip-toes and kissed him. His lips parted to meet mine, and our mouths became one. He tasted of cigarettes and stale beer, but I didn't care.
I half expected Frank to tell me this was wrong, to pull away and say we should never speak of this again. I knew he’d said some filthy stuff to me earlier, but I thought that maybe that was typical Frank bravado, and when it came to the crunch he wouldn't really want to betray his son.
Instead, he ripped open my nightdress, then shoved a hand into my panties.
I gasped as two of his huge fingers slid into my slit. No gentle rubbing or teasing for Frank—he just started finger fucking me, his fingers splashing in and out of my wet cunt as my juices dripped down his wrist.
“You're fucking wet for me, aren't you slut?”
It was then that I realised that Frank’s rudeness and bravado was no act. He really was as big an asshole as he seemed. The kind of man who wouldn't think twice about fucking his son’s wife.
Without warning he lifted me up—something John would never have been able to do—then dumped me on the sofa. He straddled my face and pulled out the most enormous cock I'd ever seen.
“Suck it, you slut.”
“Frank,” I protested, “you're my husband’s father, this isn't right, it's not—”
Frank pinched my nose. I opened my mouth wide in surprise, and he shoved his dick in.
“Mmmmphhh!”
Frank fucked my mouth with wild abandon, sliding his ridiculous length in and out of my throat. I was gagging and spluttering, but he didn't care.
I’m going to puke, I thought, but—by some miracle—I didn't. Frank’s huge balls smacked against my chin, two cum-filled tennis balls full of baby batter.
This is wrong, I thought, I shouldn't be doing this. But there was something about Frank that was impossible to resist. Plus, his cock was incredible. I felt my pussy get wetter as I imagined what it would feel like to be stretched by Frank’s monster meat.
Thoughts of John, fast asleep upstairs while his dad had his dick down my gullet, ran through my head. I should have felt guilty, but instead I felt turned on.
I gasped for air as Frank pulled his cock out of my mouth, a torrent of spit flowing from my lips. Frank looked down at his saliva-covered rod.
“Right,” he said, grinning, “that's the lube sorted. Now let's fuck that little pussy.”
He positioned his monster cock head at the entrance to my tunnel, rubbing it on my flaps.
“Wait,” I said, “have you got a condom?”
Frank laughed.
“I thought you were trying to get pregnant?” he said, then thrust the head of his cock inside of me.
I almost screamed as Frank’s fat glans pushed my pussy lips apart. He pushed forward and sunk another inch into me. His dick was barely in me—I looked down and saw inches and inches to go—but already my c
unt felt like it was going to going to tear.
“You're so big,” I gasped, scratching my nails down his back.
“Bigger than my son?” he asked, as he buried another inch down my tunnel. “He thinks he’s the big man, with his fancy job and his shiny shoes, but I'm bigger where it counts, I bet.”
“So much bigger! You're so much bigger than John!”
I almost screamed as he continued to squeeze his fat dick inside me, his girth pushing against my pussy walls, stretching them to their limits.
Finally his whole baseball-bat dick was inside of me, and Frank began to fuck, slamming his meat into me at incredible speed. How he had so much stamina with the amount of cigarettes he smoked I didn't know.
Then, with his cock never leaving my hole, Frank grabbed me and twisted me around, so I was on all fours on the couch and he was fucking me from behind.
He slapped my ass with one of his enormous hands, leaving the cheek stinging and red. Then he slapped it again, and again.
“Frank, that hurts!”
But Frank just slapped it again, harder than before.
“Ow!”
For the next thirty minutes—thirty glorious minutes—Frank made mincemeat of my pussy. When he was bored of fucking me on the couch, he lifted me up with his huge muscular arms and fucked me against the wall, my legs wrapped round him and my fingernails scraping down his back as he thrust into me over and over.
Finally he dumped me on the floor and fucked me missionary style.
“I'm gonna cum,” Frank whispered in my ear, “I'm gonna cum!”
He started pumping with all his might.
“Not inside me!” I whimpered. “Please Frank!”
I couldn't do this to John. I couldn't let him raise another man’s baby as his own. Especially if the other man was his own dad!
“Pull out Frank, please pull—oh!!”
I felt my pussy tingle around Frank’s fat cock as I began to cum as well. It was the most incredible feeling, his girth had me so stretched that it was unlike any orgasm I'd had before. My eyes rolled into the back of my head.
“Cum inside me,” I moaned, biting his ear as he pounded my pussy into mulch. “Empty your balls inside me, you fucking stud!”
Frank lifted his head back and half grunted half roared as he finally blew his load. I felt stream after stream of thick, hot syrup shoot from the end of his dick into my hungry pussy.
