Breeding the American
“Maybe some random Aussie will knock you up. Win/win!”
“Gotta find one that’ll want to knock me up first! Not everyone loves the fat American chick, you know!!”
“If it’s random, the guy won’t have to know about it.”
“He’s gonna know he fucked a fat chick! We just won’t tell him about the baby.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t need to know. He’ll just know he fucked a horny American.”
“Will you record it for me, my love? Will you record this random Aussie breeding me and me moaning like a slut, enjoying every minute of it? Please??”
“If you want. How badly do you really want this?”
“I really want it. I really, really want it… As long as you’re with me.”
“To keep you safe, of course.”
“When?”
“Tonight?”
“It’s a date!”
We walk into the local bar and you introduce me to a selection of drunk and horny Aussies. I’m a little self-conscious, going commando under my short denim skirt. But you recommended I “dress for the occasion”, so no panties to get in the way. You walk me over to the bar, tell me to stay standing there, then you wander off to a random stranger who seems a likely candidate.