Full Term Lovemaking [MF|Romantic|Pregnancy|Impregnation|Female POV]

(*Foreword : This isn’t my first erotic story, but it will be my first time sharing one with an audience larger than just one or two. It’s also one of the few times I’ve written in second person. I know it won’t be for everyone, but for those who do read on I’d love to hear what you thought. I appreciate all positve and negative feedback, corrections and opinions. And if just maybe it got you aroused or flustered, I’d love to hear that too. Enjoy.)*

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He closes the bedroom door behind you both as you come in from your night out. You’re tired, your feet hurt wearing the heels, and the gorgeous crimson dress he bought specially for your recent build now feels tight around your waist and butt. You want nothing more than to take it all off, which fortunately seems to be exactly what he was thinking too. His hands find your hips, and you flash him the smile you’ve been wearing all evening, giggling lightly as he turns you around and pulls down the back zip to the form fitting dress. You can’t help but think about how jealous your girlfriends were of you tonight, how good you looked out there, despite the slow gait, aches and today’s irregular cramps. He kisses the back of your neck before bending down, sliding the crimson garment down first past your ample hips, then further down beyond your legs. As it reaches your feet, he cautiously lifts one foot at a time, finally freeing the dress as you stagger against him, ditching the heels in the process. Disrobed, you teasingly flee his embrace, striking a seductive pose for him just out of arm’s reach. Like the temptress you are, you flutter your eyelids and flash him a coy smile, fully naked in your bedroom. Beautiful, barefoot, and forty weeks pregnant.

He holds you carefully as you lie back slowly onto the soft, satin sheets and supportive mattress of your bed, feeling the weight of your child upon your hips and lower torso. Your lover takes the cocoa butter lotion from the nightstand and squeezes it out onto your protruding belly. With gentle strokes, he proceeds to rub it into the lightly stretch-marked skin. It’s strange how things have changed so quickly. Only nine months ago you were simply fingering yourself alone to the thought of having a pregnant belly, imagining how it would feel to grow those bigger breasts, those bigger hips and a baby bump. Now, you no longer have to imagine, he made sure of that. You close your eyes, just enjoying the strong hands of your lover tend to your swollen midriff. They glide, ministering the cream into your warm, child broadened skin. As the salve sinks in fully, he plants a single kiss upon the bulge and, his massage of your child laden protrusion complete, he stands back to remove his own clothes. One by one they are thrown to the wayside, gradually revealing his sculpted frame, lightly toned by exercise. His cock, that gorgeous piece of meat that knocked you up, stands rigid to attention. It’s perfect, you’ve always thought. Not too big, but definitely not too small, and always hard at the thought of you, regardless of how your body has been changing. Without a word, your man lines himself up with your slightly swollen, pregnant pussy. He rubs his dick against you, gently parting your cleft, teasing its moist lips before entry. You moan a little in anticipation, eliciting from him a knowing grin. He teases you for a few moments more, but like a gentleman does eventually oblige you, gradually slipping the tip of his cock between the folds of your labia. As he eases his length inside, you purr happily to yourself thinking back on how it came to be.

It’s all a bit of a blur — how you met, your first dates, your first kiss. The only thing you can really be sure of was the sex. The passionate, raw, baby making sex. You weren’t on anything to protect yourself, and he knew that. He wasn’t planning on using a condom, he made sure you knew that too. Would he have refused if you asked him to wear one? Probably not. He wasn’t in this just for himself, he cared for you. Yes, yes you’re certain he would have worn one had you asked. But you didn’t ask, you didn’t try to stop him at all. Instead, you encouraged him.

“Breed me” you implored him, as you first took his manhood inside you and sank it as deep as you could. And that was all it took — after that you were just fucking. Fucking raw. Fucking raw everywhere. On the bed, on the floor, against the wall, always locking your legs around him to prevent him from pulling out. But he never once tried to pull out. He just kept pouring load after load into you, telling you, pleading with you to have his babies as he pumped his virile cum deep inside.

You remember cuddling together between fuck sessions, breathless sweaty skin against warm skin. His contented moans. His tender kisses. Lying with him as he whispered softly into your ear. “I love you.” You remember his firm, manly hand stroking your flat abdomen. “Swell for me.” You remember his little kisses on your ear. “Then push for me.” And gentle kisses between lips. “Tell me. Tell me you’ll give birth to our baby.”

“I will. I promise.” you said earnestly, in love.“I promise.”

Some weeks later you took the test, holding his hand as you both waited together for the inevitable. Hoping, wanting to have been bred. The fear that it might not have taken verses the fear it might have. Slowly, as your joint anticipation grew, they began to reveal themselves. Two. Pink. Lines. You remember squealing, so excited to see them. As you showed the test to him, thrusting it in his face, he simply scooped you into his arms and held you tightly in his embrace. No words, just your bodies held against one another. You knew instinctively what each of you were thinking. Within minutes, he was making love with you again. The congratulatory sex. Harder and more determined, him pounding like a jack-hammer while you screamed out calling him ‘daddy’. After all, he was going to be a daddy now. And you — you were going to be a mom.

Pregnancy sickness, cravings, sore feet, general crabbiness, Lamaze class. He was there, through all of it, supportive and loving. And the sex. Oh, fuck. There was a lot of sex. As your midsection grew, so too did your lust for each other. As if your passions weren’t already inflamed, seeing the consequences of your unprotected sex change you, knowing your would birth his child — it was like a drug. A five star aphrodisiac the shape of a growing basketball along your midriff, bouncing and kicking between you and your lover’s bodies, just preparing itself for the day you would finally push it out and start a family.

A surge of pleasure brings you back to the moment. You’re tired, but that doesn’t stop you from quivering as the orgasm hits you, your legs flailing against your lover like long fleshy flags in the wind. He takes them and swiftly wraps them around himself, holding them as you buck, your big child laden belly heaving in ecstasy as you cream yourself on his shaft. After the feeling subsides, you breathlessly ask to ride him for a while. He acquiesces without complaint. You’re heavier on him, but being on top gives you more control. Plus it doesn’t squash your baby. As you mount him, taking him once again inside your pregnant cunt, you look down at him. Those always willing eyes stare back at you, bright and full of arousal and devotion. You can’t imagine a man better for you. As if to reward him for it, you blow him a kiss and then softly begin to ride him. You quickly find a rhythm that works, with just enough rocking and grind to keep it pleasurable even with the baby bump flopping up and down above him. With each careful impalement, you steadily up the tempo, bouncing faster despite your fatigue. He groans, holding back from his own orgasm. Apparently you’re perfect for him too. After a minute of watching him bite his tongue and trying to stall his imminent release, you slow down for him, letting him recover a little and resting your arms on his chest.

“Nine months ago I made you a promise. A promise to make our baby.” You tell him, settling stationary on his cock. He nods and smiles at you, guiding a hand to your girth and rubbing the cocoa butter covered bulge. “Now I want you to make me a promise.” you grind your hips in a circular motion around the base of his shaft. He groans softly. “Promise me we’ll have another.”

“I promise.” He whispers, before suddenly thrusting upwards into you, instantly interrupting your grind. You briefly bite your lip at the sensation, before he withdraws.

“Promise me we’ll have lots.” you say, half whispered.

“Definitely.” He thrusts again, slightly harder.

“Keep me pumping them out.”

“Oh yes, always and forever. Pumping them out like candies. My soft, beautiful baby making machine of a mommy.” Without warning, he takes you by the shoulders and guides you down upon him, rolling you both over, so he can take a dominant role on top. Still impaled within you, you let out a slight squeal of surprise, shocked by the motion, even though you know he’d never intentionally hurt you. “You’re so close now, forty weeks.” He says seductively, softly beginning to thrust. “And they say sex,” He thrusts inside making you yelp in pleasure “can induce labour.” The way he says it, is that a challenge?

He places his arms along your sides, one hand sliding up to cup your milk swollen breast. He tenderly leans into you, sandwiching your baby belly between the both of you and bottoming out inside your pussy. You feel the tip of his penis push against your cervix, kissing it with a drip of pre-cum before withdrawing. Then it’s back again, grinding against your sensitive insides. Your baby kicks happily with each intrusion, clearly a fan of its father’s lovemaking with you. With your lover’s next thrust, your lover reclines even further and begins to suckle at the breast he’s holding, sipping at your sweet leaking colostrum as your slick pussy constricts, trying to milk his own white milk from his balls. He retaliates by quickening his pace to a climax inducing speed, spurring your second orgasm. You mew in pleasure at the feeling. Your body twists, subconsciously trying to get your lover to stop for a second — but he doesn’t. He just keeps fucking you through the waves of shuddering warmth. Then he kisses you, passionately and with tongue. He’s also getting really close. You bite his bottom lip playfully and when he backs off, you stare him in the eyes and softly growl like a kitten pretending to be a lioness.

“Mmm… Daddy.”

It’s all he needed. Apparently it’s what you both needed. He roars in pleasure, pushing himself as deep as he possibly can and starts to cum. You feel the warmth of his ejaculate begin to spread inside you. Thick ropes of semen squirting like a geyser into your shivering kitty, filling your insides with his sticky, potent, baby making juices. Over and over, spurt after spurt.

As he’s unloading the last remaining discharges of jizz from his balls, he gives a last claiming thrust, one last rut. The sensation hits you immediately, not from the force itself but a sudden hot internal build up and intense, expeditious bliss. Unable to stop the feeling seething in your nethers, you let yourself go in one final unexpected release of your own. Moist and uncontrollable. Not your usual orgasm like before, but god, this feels just as good. Waves of satisfaction and belonging. Love and fruition. Painful and at the same time intensely pleasurable. A gift of gratification from your man, proving he’s worthy enough to be daddy to your unborn baby. You wrap your arms around him and hold him close to your body, his chest heaving as he heavily breathes, pushed against your own. As the high gradually subsides, you being to laugh between panting, giddily enjoying the ensuing euphoria. An embarrassed, fatigued laugh that earns you light lip kisses from your man. He continues to stay inside you, grinding his prick in your cunt a few more times for good measure, causing a squishy, squelching sound with each movement, alerting you to the extreme moistness between your legs. A flood of motherly liquid. You’re exhausted, but it feels good. So good, so fucking good. And so, so wet.

“That…” you purr breathlessly “…was the best sex ever.”

His softening cock, slick with cum and your own pregnant liquids, gives one last throb, hardening inside you for the fleetest of moments. “It’s about to get a lot better,” he says, gently stroking your bulge with a massive smile upon his exhaustion reddened cheeks. “Your water just broke.”

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/il4mqv/full_term_lovemaking