[M] [F] [preg] How I bred your mother

Maybe it’s the weather. Maybe it’s the phase of the moon. Maybe it’s just the butterfly effect at work. But I can’t sleep. And neither can you. Something is bothering me and you alike. We lay next to each other. Awake as can be. It’s dark outside. The night is silent. We don’t even need to turn the lights on, we’ve been sitting in the dark long enough that we can see each other.

“Quickie?” you say.
“We’re out of condoms, you know” I remind you. We said we’d never have kids. You love your career. I think climate change will kill us all. Kids are not in the cards for us. And you can’t use birth control. So, we’re always religious about condoms. But we’re out.

You think about it for a brief second. “You’ll have to pull out” is your final verdict. That’s the most risk you and I have ever taken. Pulling out! Like savages who aren’t really ready for a kid, but if it happened..
Somehow, you sound so assertive, so persuasive, so right. Common sense be damned. It can’t be bad if it’s voiced with such confidence. “Alright”. I climb on top of you. We make out a bit. I can feel myself grow while our tongues dance against each other. I’m hard. You moan softly as I bite your neck. “I’m wet” your only words, a barely audible whisper.

We all know what’s about to happen. We have been preparing our bodies for it. Like flipping a switch. The kissing, the nibbling. It was all for this very moment. We’ve known each other so long. And this is the first time our bodies meet this way. With no barrier. No impediment. Nothing but my flesh and yours.

God you feel so good. So wet. So tight. We don’t say a word. We pant, we gasp. At each stroke of my cock you let out a deep sigh. Your chest heaving each time my cock reaches deep in you. My breath heavy each time I push back. It’s a dance as old as time. We don’t need words. Your moans and mine are all the conversation the moment takes. Our gestures, our actions, they are deeply intimate, and yet so instinctual, almost mechanical. We are but machines in pursuit of our primal desires, of our ultimate, deepest most secret lusting.

Your tits are full under my hands. They feel heavy already. Maybe a hint of what’s to come. Your hips wider, stronger, as you thrust them against me, our rhythms matching in unison, a perfect choir of pleasure. Mhmmm. Aaahh. Oooh. We whisper almost. All discourse would be redundant.

We told each other that I would pull out. The time to keep that promise is getting closer and closer. As your eyes meet mine, we stare into each other, and the truth comes out. No, I won’t pull out. No, you don’t want me to.

Maybe it’s the weather. Maybe it’s the phase of the moon. You and I want the same thing tonight. We want a baby.
“You know what this means?” you ask
“I do” is all I can respond

This means that we’ll be pregnant. Your belly will swell huge. Your tits will grow. Full of milk. Your hips wide. Your hormones all over the place. A new life will grow inside of you. You will be insatiable. Sexually and otherwise. We’ll fuck every night. I will kiss your belly every night. Caress it. I will lick your nipples, suckle them, eager to taste your milk.

This means that all our deeply held beliefs have lost. Our primal nature has won. We are but monkeys with spaceships after all. Our biology is demanding its dues. All it took was one night, one night that we ran out of condoms, and the forbidden fruit won. The fruit of unprotected sex. The fruit of risking everything. It feels so good. It feels so right. It feels perfect. It is what nature intended. For me to push deep inside of you once more. For your legs to clutch me, leaving me no escape. There’s no turning back. I can feel it. My hips thrust back, and then forward, my back arched. I pin you against the bed, your eyes and mine staring into each other.

I am cumming. Inside of you. You’re not on the pill. And I’m filling you up. Thick spurt after thick spurt. And to add insult to injury, you’re keeping your legs up high, not letting one single drop go to waste.

What got into us, we’ll never know. But by God, we’re having a baby.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/egwv7i/m_f_preg_how_i_bred_your_mother