*This story is fictional. Stay home, folks. No, really. It’s horrifying that this shit should even be controversial. Just Stay Home.*
“34F mom of 3, divorced, quarantine driving me nuts, do your worst” your post says. You’re looking to be roasted. I think you’re hot. I’m sure 90% of these folks think the same. But they’re really trying. Your left eyebrow is one quarter of an inch thicker than your right eyebrow, what horrible genetics you have. I can see that your index finger on the left hand is slightly chubbier than your chin, do you even eat healthy? Yeah some are funny.
I slide into your DMs.
“Quarantined with 3 kids, uh? Sounds wild”
“Yeah, sure is” you come back to me after a few minutes. You haven’t made front page quite yet, but the comments are piling up. I’m sure I’m not the only one trying this
My pickup line is as smooth as a cat’s tongue
“How would you like to be quarantined with 4 kids in 9 months?”
Of course it can’t work. How could it? We barely exchanged 10 words, if even. Why in hell would it work?
“Are you volunteering to help?” you say after a wait that Reddit registers as “3 minutes”, but that felt like 3 months
Hey, at least you’re a good flirt
“I could be if you’re local”
You live in Caldwell, I am in Nampa. Oh fuck you’re truly local. And you’re actually flirting back. We exchange numbers. I am usually pretty reserved about my life when I’m online. But with you, it’s different. It just is. You’re as cute as your photos say. I am a dad bod without the kids to show for it. But it sounds like that can be fixed.
“I am not on the pill” is the last thing you say before hanging up. I have your address. You have mine. Logistics are way easier at my place, of course. But there’s a shelter in place. We’re stuck home by force of law. Will the law win? Or will this absurd crazy folly, this wave of mad lust triumph and claim its trophy of a new life?
“How the fuck did I get into this mess?” I think to myself as I hear a knock at the door. It’s you. For all I know, you’ve come to murder me and steal my cans of tuna and beans. But I open the door.
Before I can even close it back behind us, your mouth and mine are one. Our tongues dancing, twirling, poking at each other. Your arms tight around me, mine around you. I can feel the warmth of your curves, I can feel your heart beat, your chest pound. I can feel your breasts heavy against me, I can feel the smell of your perfume. You are womanly. In the most primitive, perfect, sensual meaning of the word. Like those statues of fertile goddesses, you are to me today.
“Well, what’s the plan now?” you ask after breaking our lustful embrace
“I don’t have condoms, you don’t take the pill. Sounds like there is only one plan here”
You laugh as you take a quick tour of the house. The kitchen. The bathroom. The bedroom. “I guess this is the room for me” you say. I walk in only to find you laying down on the bed, your shirt unbuttoned, your pants already off. You came prepared: no panties, no bra. With your shirt gone, you’re only wearing a thick dark patch of hair on your pussy, and otherwise, you’re as naked as can be.
I follow your lead. I am naked in a matter of seconds. On top of you. We’re making out again. We’re breaking all the laws, all the precautions. Common sense is but a distant memory in our minds. We’re fucking our way to a baby. We met not 24 hours ago, this is our first time being together, and we’re fucking a new life. In the middle of a pandemic. I barely know your name. For all you know, I am a squatter in somebody’s house, and the corpses are hidden in the basement. None of it matters.
None of it matters as my hands cup your breasts. They’re full. Ripe.
None of it matters as my tongue twirls around your nipples. They’re hard. A perfect shade of pink. They’re sensitive to my touch. To my teeth sinking into them ever so gently. You feel a pang of pain. You moan. You gasp. I can feel your hips twitch under my body. I smile. You smile back.
This is a wild crazy ride. Who knew a corny pickup line in the middle of the craziest the world has been in a century or so, who knew all of that, would land us here? Me, the bachelor at all costs, and you, the former party girl turned mom of 3 and reasonable adult.
My face is between your legs. Licking. Drawing the alphabet. My tongue and my fingers working together to pleasure you. Your moans tell me it’s working. Oh you’re a loud one. And a potty mouth too. I love it. “Fuck fuck me you fucking fucker fuck that pussy god fuck it harder give it to me give it to me make me cum make me cum” you whimper and beg and scream. Some of the words hardly make sense. It’s a mumble soup of sounds, sometimes you can make out a “fuck” or a “cum” but otherwise it’s primal sounds, the likes of which you imagine you could have heard in a forest in the time before writing was even a thing
You’ve cum twice. You take my head in your hands, push me back up. Kiss me. Lick your flavor off my face. You taste sweet. I love it. And so do you. “Fuck I love my taste”. Not the first time you’ve tried yourself, I take it. “No, hardly the first time” you laugh at me. “I fuck myself almost every night. That and a beer is how I survive the crazy”
“What will you do if you can’t drink for 9 months?” I ask, only half joking. It’s a chance for both of us. One of the last stops before we can’t stop
“You will have to fuck the wild out of me even harder. Will you fuck me when I’m pregnant?” you ask, your finger on your lip, mimicking a petulant child asking for one more toy
“With gusto”
No more words. Nothing else. You turn me around. You’re on top of me. My cock hard as a rock. You sit on me. My cock inside of you. You start thrusting your hips. Up and down. Back and forth. Every motion in your arsenal. The pleasure is immense. I love everything about you. I love your breasts rocking as you fuck. I love your eyes shot into the sky, your back arched to the heavens, your hair floating. I love how tight and wet your pussy feels. The sounds it makes as my cock slides in and out of it. I love how you curse the heavens with each jolt of pleasure. As if you were stealing your pleasure from an evil vengeful god.
“I am close” I say
“Do you want to stop?”
“Do you want me to stop?”
No, neither of us does.
For you, this feels right. It feels primal. Blissful. You can finally stop thinking, planning, scheming. You don’t have to be a rational adult. You can be a woman. You can obey the calling of your hormones. You can be the wild beast you’re meant to be. You can feel your body aching for pregnancy. You can feel it beg you to give it a baby. And you’re giving in. That’s all you want. To stop wanting. To stop needing. To be one with nature, with your nature. And your nature is to be a mother. A nurturer of life.
And for me? Probably the same. But reflected back at me in a mirror. Society says all those things. Avoid gold diggers. Work on your career. Travel. Be independent. Crap. Bullshit. All of it. Me too. My hormones, want nothing more than to shoot their load in a fertile womb. They want nothing more than to spread the genes. I want nothing more than to make babies. I have obeyed the rules for too long. Today, I break them all. I break the rules of what a modern man should want and do. I break the rules of quarantine. Today, as thick spurt after thick spurt of cum shoots into your raw pussy, I break the rules. I will be a father. I am knocking you up. It feels like a dream.
It is the best sex I ever had. For you, you know already. You know sex feels different when you’re making a new life. Me, I had no idea. Not until today.
But now I do. It feels better. It feels right. It feels like nothing is held back. Nothing is spared. Two people fucking to make a life, they are giving everything to each other. There is nothing deeper than that to share. And you and I shared it today.
As I watch you leave, I watch a part of me leave. Will you be back? Will you be pregnant? What does the future hold? I don’t know. But I know that I don’t regret a moment of our crazy afternoon together.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/g5k1bl/mf_preg_shelter_in_place