So this is based on my memories of how our second child was conceived. I was bred. My eldest, only 8 months old, was supposed to be an only child for a long while – a mutual decision. One night, a couple of months after my menstrual cycle returned, we were intimate. I was ovulating, and he always picked up on my biological cues at this time, and was extra into me. I’d had a delicious orgasm and we were cuddling, talking. He hadn’t cum yet, I could feel his cock stiff against my thigh and leaking precum. We stared a long while into each other’s’ eyes, my chest rising and falling with my shallow breaths, my cheeks still flushed pink and sweaty. I could see his eyes slowly make their way down the side of my face, reaching my lips and resting there for a long moment before glancing straight up at me – something changed, I could see the hunger there. His breaths, too, deepening, he did not say word but climbed on top of me, staring down into my eyes again. I felt small beneath my husband, vulnerable, his eyes insatiable.
“Spread your legs”. I did as I was told. “No, wider”. Still not breaking eye contact. I tried to mutter about the condom, that I was fertile that night. But my eyes pleaded with him for what I knew we both truly wanted. My womb ached for him, again. But still, there was fears, this was much sooner than planned, I didn’t know if I could physically handle the pregnancy again so soon. I tried to start this when he stopped me – “no sweetheart”, shaking his head, his eyes desperate and apologetic and revealing the weakness in his desire which could not be controlled. My breathing now was extremely quick, excited but also very nervous. I felt his cock slide inside me, painfully slowly, parting my flesh, making me moan deeply. It was bare, raw, unprotected. “Should we really do this?” In response he wrapped his arms round the small of my back, holding me close to him. I saw in that moment his care, that this wasn’t his decision, that he would hold me while his cock and my womb pulled each other in in an ecstatic dance that was beyond either of our control.
He pushed my thighs up so that my knees were back by my shoulders and my feet were in the air, undignified. “Hold your legs open like this”. He was thrusting powerfully into me now, ever so slowly pulling out then slamming with his full force in. Never speeding up, just keeping the steady powerful rhythm. I was forced to weather each thrust, my feet jumping in the air and my breasts jolting with each hit. He forced me to never break eye contact as I was bred like an animal, opened and exposed. Throughout my whole pregnancy and postpartum he had been so gentle and tender, and even throughout our whole marriage, but something about the conception switched on a flip in his mind.
My vagina was squelching with wetness as this point, softening and opening with each thrust. At one point a thrust caused my milk to leak out my nipples. I went to wipe it but he stopped me – “no, let your milk flow. I want your breasts and vagina to squirt across the room when we cum”.
The thrusts were becoming even more intense now, if that was possible. I could feel him rock solid inside of me, his swollen balls slapping against my ass with each hit. I was letting out a small scream each time, unable to contain myself anymore with the intensity of what was going on as I remained holding my thighs spread open for him. He told me to thank him each time he penetrated me, and to smile. In response I looked at him stunned, almost pleading, feeling my cheeks blush in humiliation. “Do it”, he said between sharp inhales. “I want you like this, holding yourself open for me, thanking me. I want to see my wife joyful as she’s impregnated”. Somehow I dug deep enough to fully surrender, to turn whimpers and screams into quiet and loud “thank you’s” each time I was mercilessly slammed into, amidst the backdrop of the obscene noise of my own wetness. I forced a smile and kept eye contact as my vagina was opened and my breasts leaked shamlessly – taking all my energy to keep my mouth from opening wide into an open gasp.
Finally, right when he was close, he told me to reach down and rub my clitoris. It was swollen and fully engorged and hypersensitive from the orgasm earlier that night. I rubbed quickly, sensing there wasn’t much time, while my body rocked the waves of my husband’s thrusts which penetrated me deeper and deeper. Then there it was – the moment before our orgasms, that silent moment where time stands still for just a second, and our eyes darken as we stare at each other; our bodies tense and waiting. And then the screams, the grabs, the cries. He exploded powerfully inside me, fully emptying his load, while my clit spasmed and my anus twitched and my breasts leaked and leaked and leaked. I screamed out my thanks as we both came and my head thrust backwards.
I felt his body surrender onto me, spent. I loosely trailed my hands up and down his back and arms, feeling the muscles and flesh and masculinity.
Afterwards, he kissed me, working his way down my neck and chest. Reaching my womb, staying there a while. He kissed the flesh by my womb deeply and lovingly. The skin soft and slightly wrinkled from the marks of the previous pregnancy which had wracked my body. But he simply smiled and held me there, looking up, whispering “I want you, swollen with life.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ob7gjl/my_second_impregnation_mf
This was incredible