by Mich
"I want you so bad," she whispered, breath hot in my ear, hand digging into my hair, her heavy breasts heaving against me. Hungry for her, I pulled her mouth back to mine, our lips meeting, gasping into each other. My hands found their way around her back, pulling her tight body closer, as close as I could get it, letting her feel the raging erection in my jeans, to know that I wanted her just as bad, maybe more. "I want you more than anything in the world," she moaned between kisses, and I reciprocated by biting at her lip, by grinding up against her, by inhaling her luxurious hair. I was too far gone in my intoxicatingly horny frenzy to say anything back other than a guttural moan, instead sliding her backwards onto the couch, pushing her dressóalready riding high on her thighsóup past her ass. Her hands were at my belt, undoing it, freeing my throbbing cock from its confines even while I leaned in for more hungry kisses. Her dexterous, manicured fingers stroked my steel-hard dick with a shaking longing, and then she was leaning in, her hair pulled back against her neck, her lips wrapping around my engorged member, trying her best to swallow my entire crotch. I couldn't hold back, with her wet tongue massaging down the length of my cock, and soon my moans of ecstasy were met with hers as I shot load after load past her waiting mouth. Gasps of joy emerged from her lips as she squeezed my dick for every drop, then a quiet sigh of enjoyment.
"Fuuuuck me," I breathed.
She smiled up at me, beautiful, as she brushed a strand of that strange red hair away from her almond-shaped eyes. "I think you'll be good in another few minutes."
We had met only a few hours earlier.
The club had been busy enough that a single person entering was a non-event, but somehow my eyes got drawn from my half-empty glass to the door, past a row of frat boys doing Jager Bombs further down the bar, around a gaggle of girls who had to be underage psyching themselves up near the entrance, to the open door. A frigid wind came in with her, whipping between her naked legs and tossing her hair up around her neck, a harbinger of the winter that was about to take over the city. I was far too struck by the gorgeous woman in the doorway, thanking the bouncer politely, to notice the chill.
When her X-ray eyes focused on me, sitting, alone, at the bar, she somehow instantly targeted me and strutted her way over.
What was the first thing that I noticed about her? It's so hard to say because there were so many parts of her that were almost... unreal. She was tall, for one thing, probably within an inch of six feet, and in her heels, that put her over the mark. Long and curvy, the tight dress was clinging to her shapely thighs, her toned stomach, perfectly tracing her full, almost overlarge, breasts. She had east-Asian features: a narrow chin, oval face, delicately slanted eyesóand yet I could tell, even in the dim light of the club, that her hair was a coppery red I would have assumed was dyed if not for the dusting of light brown freckles across her nose and exposed chest.
She was a figure of strange, odd beauty, with curves that instantly drew me in, made me want to know more. And she came right up to the bar, asked if the seat next to me was taken, and sat down, placing her purse on the bar.
"I don't know about you," she said, wryly, her voice a little husky in a way that made every part of me tingle, "but I could use a fucking drink."
I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that but knew that conversation would be necessary in order to have any chance. "Oh, yeah? Rough day?"
"Rough week," she said, the odd smirk never leaving her face. "Rough life." I had a hard time believing that, with a body like hers, but I still laughed.
"I think I know what you mean. Well, at least for the rough week thing."
She signaled the bartender and then turned slightly to consider me, almost like she was sizing me up. I prayed that I passed whatever her test was. In profile her tits seemed even bigger, trying to escape their strapless confines. "Is that why you're over here, not down on the floor?"
I considered the floor. There were three couples on it doing their best to wiggled their bodies while two of the nervous high schoolers (or whatever) had managed to shake off enough nerves too, bizarrely, swing-dance. "Well..." I said and, following my gaze, she burst out laughing. It was loud and infectious, something I wouldn't expect from a girl that looked like her.
"I see." When she ordered a Long Island ice tea I stifled a gag, but she only laughed again at my expression. "They're not so bad. Get you drunk fast and make all of the other drinks taste better."
"Maybe I should have had one first," I joked, swirling the remaining ice in my whiskey soda. She winked, then told the bartender to bring her a second one. "Cheers," I thanked her as she passed me the glass. Our fingers touched for a moment, then I sipped at the drink. She was right; it wasn't so bad. A little weirdly bitter, but I could get over it.
Then again, I had her big brown eyes distracting my taste buds.
Her name was Felicity.
We spent the next hour joking and commiserating and getting drunker, me describing my rough week at work and the big sale I had managed to miss, her hinting at the ex-boyfriend she had just moved away from. "I thought he was making me a better person," she sighed, "but he was just tying me down, you know? I wanted to start somewhere fresh." A long, slow wink of her perfectly-shaded eyelid. "Maybe with someone fresh."
I must have been drunker than I thought, and the three empty glasses in front of us were joined by four more before she pulled me from my bar stool to the dance floor, her hips grinding into my leg, her hot tits wrapping around my arm. Fuck, I wanted her, and she wanted me. Was it the only reason she had come into the club, to get a little action? Probably. Was it the reason I had gone? Almost definitely.
The cab ride to her place was mostly forgotten in a haze. I remembered a brief glimpse of a hallway filled with cardboard boxes before we were on her microfiber couch and a curious look at the clock from her. "Do you know what time it is, Jon?" she asked, trying to peer up at the wall only a dozen feet away.
I laughed, I think, with a hiccup. She seemed to be outlined in a warm, welcoming haze. "Uh... half-past one."
"Half passed..." she breathed, leaning on me, soft chest squashing between us. Then something seemed to click in her. "I want you so bad," she whispered, hot breath on my ear.
She wasn't wrong when she told me I'd be good again in a few minutes. I could hardly blame myself: I couldn't remember being this turned on since I had first discovered pornography. So when Little Jon decided he was ready to go again, rising in front of me still damp with Felicity's spit, I dove back on top of her, unzipping her dress while my tongue explored her mouth, needfully pressing my cock against her damp panties.
She pulled my tie over my head, my shirt following, and I, at last, freed her perfect breasts from her strapless bra. The only things that marred their perfect surface were those playful freckles while her pert little nipples capped them in a light pink.
I bit down on one, playfully, and she gasped, then arched her back in willing support. "Give it to me," she begged, so I slipped her panties down off of her legs, revealing neatly trimmed, fire red pubic hair, and did.
Despite being drunker than I may have ever been before, I can remember almost every detail of that night. The sweat slick on both of our bodies despite the dropping autumn temperature. The feel of her hips on my hands as I thrust into her again and again. The realization that her tight pussy was bare against my burning hot dick. I even remember specifically pushing this thought from my mind, too caught up in everything to care.
Or, maybe, it was the thrill of the possibility that made me even harder, made me stiffen and spasm as my second orgasm of the night overtook me, just as Felicity's breath quickened and turned to gasps.
The blinding white joy made all concerns wipe from my mind, while my lover's nails dug into my back and she came, screaming, with me.
Later, after some drunken, giggling cleanup, Felicity invited me to sleep over. I preferred to sleep in my own bed, and I didn't want to stick around if she wanted it to be a one-night stand. Things looked up when she gave me her number, though, sloppily typing away at my phone screen.
I looked at her info later, in bed, trying to prevent my eyes from crossing, and barely could make out what she had typed. "Felicity Martinez," I giggled. "She doesn't seem Mexican."
Still, in my shirt and jeans, I passed out.
***
It was only when I was halfway through my hangover breakfast (three egg omelet, bacon, buttered toast, and orange juice) that I remembered, heart dropping, that I had neglected a condom the night before. The memory came with more than a little guilt because I also could recall a rebellious feeling of determination. Of fantasy.
Just a few months earlier I had been engaged, to a girl I met just outside of college. We had been dating for nearly four years, been engaged for one when the subject of children came up. I don't particularly love kids, although I suppose I've always just assumed I'd have one, Maggie, my fiancÈe, was ardently opposed. Extremely. Teens, toddlers, infants, and, above all, pregnancy disgusted her to her utter core. And it was that last one that made me hesitate, just for a moment, before telling her that I agreed.
How do you tell the woman that you about the fantasies you have, of her belly filling and rounding out while her breasts plump up in preparation? Of the stupid image you have of her in bed, an old t-shirt failing to cover the naked brown curve of her stomach, her belly-button exposed and popping out for the world to see?
It wasn't the reason for our breakup, but it was the first rock in a long avalanche of arguments and revealed feelings. And it seemed like that one event had led to some kind of depression or malaise. Nobody blamed me, but suddenly work that I loved and was good at became difficult and a slog. Coworkers I had gotten along with were suddenly enemies. Friends and I drifted apart, while Maggie, obviously, stopped talking to me.
And it was in this state that Felicity found me. We found each other. So, yes. I half-fantasized about the bombshell from the club becoming pregnant from our one-night stand, her gorgeous breasts positively glowing as they filled with milk, her tight dresses bursting at the seams as she tried to slip into them. And then I felt plagued with guilt at the thought.
When she called me that afternoon to ask if I wanted to come over again, I almost ignored it. But then the thought that I should man up and talk this through with her occurred, mixed with a second fantasy, a much more powerful and, bizarrely, realistic one:
She just wanted to fuck again, didn't she?
Shortly after arriving at her place once more, I found out that the second theory was actually true. I was barely in the door before she was on me, lips mashing into mine, tongue entangled, hands seeking under my shirt. When at last I pulled away, gasping for breath, she grinned, almost sheepishly.
"Iím sorry. It's been another one of those days."
"Already?" I asked, managing to finally close the door. I noticed that the couch had been neatened up a little bit since the previous night before wondering, with a wolfish grin, if it had been a pain to remove the stains.
She glanced at the clock and must have seen that it wasnít even four. "Oh, yeah. I donít work many hours, but theyíre intense." It was coupled with an odd, slanted smile. "Besides, shouldnít you be at work?"
I normally would have, it was true, but after my big fail of a sale, I had abruptly stated I was taking a week off. At this news, Felicity nearly clapped her hands. "So I have you all to myself?"
Nervous laughter almost found its way out of my throat. I mean, she was a great fuck, donít get me wrong, and she was way out of my league in terms of looksóbut I wasnít sure if I wanted to be attached so quickly. As the thought came into my head I realized I needed to get one thing out of the way. "So, about last nightÖ"
"Uh, oh," she said in a sing-song voice. "Whatís up? Did I ride you too hard?" One delicate hand traced down my stomach, sending chills up my spine, and stroked my cock. "Did your little guy get tuckered out?"
"Ha, no, definitely not. But he did go into battle without the proper equipment if you know what I mean." I grimaced at the painful metaphor, but she only laughed again.
"I am on the strongest birth control that exists, dude. Oh, and Iím completely clean of STDs last I had a checkup, which I do whenever I end a relationship. And, now, letís see, when was that?" She put a finger to her chin sarcastically. "Oh, right. Last week."
"Right," I said.
"Wait a second," she said, her eyes narrowing to slits. "You don't have anything, do you?"
I shook my head. No, I hadnít even had sex in months and had been through a routine scan at least once since then. She smiled again. "Then relax and allow yourself to be my rebound sex toy, alright?" She leaned in, squeezing my arm between her two healthy tits, which were barely contained in a tight button-up. "And I can be yours." After I nodded and playfully grabbed at her ass, she giggled. "Now, do you want a drink? I donít make Long Islands, but I can do a pretty good old fashioned."
That sounded perfect to me. And she wasnít wrong: when she came back with the two glasses, mine was gone before I knew it, nothing but a twist of rind and an ice cube.
It was as she was getting up, going off to make us some more drinks before we tackled each other on the sofa again, that something struck me. She was wearing a pair of form-fitting jeans, cuffed to show off her shapely calves, and the sight of her round, perfect ass in them struck me as something that I could not deny any longer. Instantly I was pressing up against her, letting her feel my erection against her cheeks, wrapping my arms around her waist to tug at her shirt, to touch the pale skin of her stomach. She turned her head so that I didnít drown in the endless red locks coming from her scalp, and I marveled, not for the first or last time, at the number of opposing aspects of her that came together to make such an astoundingly attractive hole. Out of her heels, she still was only an inch or two shorter than me, just needing to twist a little bit in my grasp to let our cheeks rub, our mouths touch. When she opened them, her exotic eyes gazed hungrily into mine, her cheeks flushing to drown out the freckles. There was laughter on her face, too, like she was in on some joke I wasnít privy to.
"Letís try to use the bedroom this time," she said, her breasts already tasting the air, one leg entangling with mine, her teeth tugging at my lower lip.
"It might make it too easy," I joked.
"Then maybe weíll have to set a new record."
We did. And, as I came for the third time, once more with her plush, wanting lips drawing my orgasm from my cock, I wondered how I had been so lucky. Even giving me a blowjob, Felicity seemed to desire me with her entire being, her hips and back bucking in pleasure. Was it a fake orgasm, or did she really get off just by getting guys off? It certainly seemed like the latter.
When we concluded that we were both spent, we laid on her bed for a time, my arm woven through hers in order to cup one delicious, full breast. Her nipple was still hard between my fingers, and when I tweaked it she would shiver and softly moan.
"That was good," I said, and she laughed.
"I know." Then, after a few more minutes of basking in the afterglow, she struggled out from me, straddling my waist and sitting back on my legs. From below she seemed almost angelic: the perfect lines of her torso, hourglass curves rounding in over her hips and then out again to cup her breasts, her slim arms and neck graceful and soft, her face perfectly framed by that fiery, wavy hair. "Is there anything youíd change about me, Jon?" she asked suddenly.
"Change?" I repeated.
"You know," she said, lightly slapping my chest. "What do you not like? Come on, weíve fucked, like, twice, now. You should be able to know."
"I, uh, I honestly donít know." The question seemed to come from nowhere. Was two dates really enough time to know something like that? Who asked things like this? But she was already cupping her breasts, both of them filling her hands.
"Is it my tits? Would you make them bigger? Smaller?" She scowled, then winked. "Maybe saggier, even? Some dudes like saggy tits."
"UhÖ"
"Or maybe my hair? Redheads arenít always popular."
"No, no," I laughed, playing along, "I love your hair."
"My tongue?"
"What about your tongue?" I remembered how amazing her tongue felt on my cockhead, how she knew just the right mixture of suction, of teeth, and of tongue...
"Some people might think itís too long," she said, then stuck it out of her mouthÖ and out, and out until it was wiggling past her chin in a pointed line.
"Holy shit!" I gasped, and she laughed, the tongue gone.
"So, what? Shorter?"
I ran my hand through my hair, nervous laughter escaping again. "I mean, it seems fine. A bit long, but fine."
"Hmph," she said, collapsing back into my arms again. "I just want to know what youíd change about me."
"I donít think Iíd change anything," I said, truly confused. "Ask me again later, I can think harder if you want."
She didn't seem to want to let it go, playfully slapping at my arms. "All men want to change something about you."
***
Something about the way she asked stuck in my head, all the way home and under my covers. We had parted on great terms: each goodbye interrupted with another steamy kiss, another long caress down her side, or a playful stroke up my aching crotch. Finally, I had begged off leave, assuring her I would see her in the next day or two, the hungry, needful look in her eyes turning me on in a way I couldnít have imagined the day before. Shouldnít I be seeing her as clingy, as unusually possessive? But no, I wanted her, just as badly.
And yetÖ That question. "What would you change about me?" Fuck, who am I to say what she should change? If I wanted to change something, I wouldnít have been so turned on by her.
I thought it was the words echoing through my brain keeping me up, causing me to toss and turn, until I realized that my overworked and overtaxed balls just would not get into a position that was comfortable, letting me sleep. With finality I tucked them between my legs and drifted off, thinking almost nothing more about it.
It wasnít until the next morning, when I was brushing my teeth after a much-needed shower, that I wondered if they were bigger.
Normally after such a hot shower theyíd be hanging a bit free and loose, but that morning they seemed to be hangingÖ freer. And looser. And just more prominently, squashing between my thighs. Frightened of what the outcome might reveal, I lowered one hand, a splash of toothpaste still on my fingers, and squeezed one of my swollen testicles. There was no pain, no unusual lumps; just the odd tingle that feeling yourself up normally brings, and confirmation that my balls, ordinarily not much bigger than walnuts, were too big. Bigger than I was used to, at least.
I should have been worried or scared, but instead, I just found arousal building. Probably just due to feeling a bit horny, but Iím not ashamed to say that something about my big, meaty balls lookedÖ cool. Manly.
Erection in hand, almost grinning, I started to jerk myself off. Maybe it was because I was getting so much action, I stupidly thought. Swelling up to compensate. Have to make more swimmers, right?
God, my cock felt so good in my hand, like I was harder than I had ever been. Fuck, it looked huge, my cockhead emerging from my loose fist like an angry red snake. It felt like each stroke was lasting longer, sending more pleasure signals down the root of my bodyÖ
It was then I realized that my dick was bigger, too. Not much. Maybe a half-inch. Maybe a quarter-inch thicker, just enough to spread my hand.
I came in an excited panic, and it finally occurred to me that some of this might be worrying.
"So what do you want me to look at?" Felicity asked, a playful tone in my voice. I had called her over, this time, ignoring that she was supposed to be working. She had arrived twenty minutes later in leggings and a skirt, a loose white top and a leather jacket complimenting her look perfectly. It was like she had been waiting for me to call.
"Nothing you havenít seen before," I said, fighting back a panicked giggle at the joke, and started to pull my sweatpants down.
I should have seen the knowing look on her face before her eyes opened wide in surprise. "Woah, dude," she said. "Since last night?"
Even soft, my dick was obviously bigger. How had I been so stupid? Most of the evidence was in the girth, but what really stood out were my balls: pulling the soft skin of my scrotum tight as they hung half an inch lower than usual. "Yeah," I confirmed. "I mean, I think."
Cooing softly, Felicity ran a manicured finger down the length of my soft dick, and I involuntarily flexed it. She laughed, then cupped my balls, squeezing them with gentle pressure. "I donít think anything is wrong with them."
"No," I said. "Apart from, you know, swelling up."
She licked her lips and then kissed my cock head, making it rise to greet her again. "I say," she smiled up at me, "you don't look a gift cock in the mouth."
I couldn't resist her as she pulled me to the couch, one hand stroking and tugging at my hardening erection, her lips needfully pressing and tugging on mine. It was like a fog came over my mind, a childish part of me wanting to give my newfound length a try, and my hands were around her waist, pressing into her tight belly, squeezing one of her taut, supple breasts.
"Before," she gasped in between kisses, "we get, mmf, startedÖ Can I get a drink?"
I laughed and told her there was stuff in the fridge. She left me on the couch, where I wondered at my luck and the seeming fantasy I was now living, and disappeared around the corner. "Want anything?" she called back, and I told her that, yes, I wanted her. "Besides that, dummy." I said no, this time, and she snorted, before coming back with an open can of Diet Pepsi.
"Now, where were we," she said in a voice thick with lust. She tasted like bitter carbonation and sweet saliva and I found myself again wondering at the bizarre dream I was in. When her jacket and top, at last, came off, I even let myself believe I could see a little pot in her belly, imagining that her nipples were thicker, darker. Wouldnít that just be the cherry on the sundae?
After I ate her out, tasting the sweetness inside her and getting a fiercely aggressive response back for every little lick of her clit, we switched positions as Felicity proved that, no, my little increase in size did not stop her from fitting my dick in her mouth. She only seemed to feel better, tighter, more drawn into my scent, licking at my bigger balls, nuzzling into my crotch while virtually fucking my dick with her lips and throat. When I came, it felt better than any of the other times we had fucked.
We fucked all day, it seemed, and only in the evening, after gorging on Chinese delivery to the point that I did manage to live a little fantasy in her carbo-loaded belly, did I send her away. I was spent and sweaty and worried that my balls would have shrunk back down to the size of raisins after the intense, almost Kama Sutra-level orgasms I had played throughout the dayóbut, no, they were the same size. Just a little bigger than I was used to. And fuck, they still worked, didn't they? Hell, they looked good this way.
I could have sworn that they were even larger, actually. The thought of the possibility alone made me hard, even after the number of times that Felicity had made me cum. God, I would look like a badass with a big cock and two swinging balls. All of my fear and panic was gone, replaced with heated self-indulgent fantasies.
The next morning, when I was knocking two jumbo egg-sized balls below a bigger, softer cock, I didn't even break a sweat. I only grinned and felt myself up, glorying in the fact that I couldn't hold it all in one hand, now. Hard I was eight inches, a fucking great size. Nearing pornstar. In some twisted way, in my brain still drunk on pussy juice and soft tits, it made sense. Felicity was smoking hot, after all, and she wanted me for some insane reason. Looking like I lived in a porno would only seal the deal, wouldn't it?
For the first time in my life, I sent an unsolicited dick pic, gripping my shaft with my other hand, making sure the frame held my bulging testes, swollen cockhead, and flexed abs. I reveled in the unfamiliar angle for a second before sending, along with an invitation over.
To my disappointment, Felicity had other plans, but she invited me to go out with her the next night. "Wear something tight, and I will, too.
"Images fluttering through my head, I wondered how I would manage to fill the next 30 hours.
***
I mostly did it by jerking off.
Maybe it was just the new baseline that Felicity had set for me; having sex up to four or five times a day was sure to send my balls into overdrive, plus, with the new over-pumped scrotum that I was packing down below, I was sure that meant I had a load more to work with. Pun intended.
Just the sight of how killer I looked in the mirror was almost enough to make me hard, with the bulge in my pants nearly unavoidable in all but the loosest sweatpants. I always ended up cumming to the idea of Felicity there, though. Pressing my new girthy member between her full tits, working that freakish tongue around my veiny shaft, clawing at my back as I pressed deeper, harder than I ever had. Sometimes I swore I could smell her fiery hair, the sweat from her body, the wink of her mischievous eye.
The following day I hadn't grown anymore (I very carefully checked), but I was really fucking ready for my date.
Wanting to appease my new obsession, I picked out a pair of briefs that were a little tighter than normal, which made my bulging crotch stick out further and seem rounder. Then I suppressed the package in a new pair of dark denims, loving the way that my outlined dick and compressed balls made a highly-visible bulge in my crotch. The thought of Felicity's reaction made me harder than I had been the entire day, and the feeling of leverage, of constriction on my cock, combined with the awesome way that it formed a ramrod down my pant leg, meant that I needed to jack myself off one more time. Besides, I've heard you should always do that before a date, to clear your head.
Throwing on a button-up and some nice shoes, I sped for Felicity's condo, where my head instantly fogged up.
She met me at the door. From her tight skirt, a hip-hugging black cotton with an enticing slit up on her leg, to her barely-there heels; from her revealing top, a blue halter with laces that crisscrossed her plump freckled breasts, to her matching purse; from her waving feathered hair that cascaded around her shoulders to the tips of her bright blue fingernails, she was amazing. Astounding. Intoxicating.
And it may have been my mind playing tricks on me, some permanently erect and salivating part of my brain, but I could have sworn that her belly was poking out from underneath the cropped top a little more than usual. But no, as I pulled her into my arms my fingers tracing their way around the strip of exposed flesh to cup her round ass, and she was firm, taut, all around.
The restaurant she directed me to was outside of my price range, but I had already been sold, purchased, and consumed. Not even my pre-date pipe cleaning could help me, now.
The conversation at dinner was actual talk, mostly lead by Felicity. Things like our jobs, our backgrounds, our families. She grew up in the southwest, throughout Arizona, and was a highly-paid researcher for some pharmaceuticals company or something. She breezed over that bit, but I got the impression it was because a boyfriend that had gotten her the job. I wasn't surprised; only a few days with her and I would do almost anything to impress.
Before the check came she asked for two glasses of champagne, and I agreed. When they arrived she gave me a sly wink, running the inside of her foot up my calf, and, placing her hands over the glasses, swapped ours. She had been doing small things like that all night: taking my arm and leading me to the table, stealing a bite from my plate without asking. Normally I'd be put off by these kinds of things, but for us, it was a thrilling means of flirtation, of tiny power plays. I reciprocated by pulling her into a kiss, or running my hand through her hair, or selecting her wine before she could.
The champagne was fantastically expensive and tasted, unlike anything I had ever had before. Dry and bubbly and intoxicating, it filled me with the oddest feeling.
Our table was tiny, really nothing more than an end-table with two chairs on either side of it, so it was easy to reach under the tablecloth, grasp Felicity's slender hand, and guide it to my crotch, where the tough fabric of my jeans was straining against the full, throbbing erection within. Her red lips pursed in a soft "ooh" as her fingers played along the turgid length. My heart was racing, pounding in my chest, trying to escape while I fought my hands from grabbing her, from taking her right there at the table. My vision was cloudy and tinged in pink, ready for the playing to end.
I was probably not safe to drive, and Felicity's hand playing across my thigh, her hot breath in my ear, that didn't help me focus on the road. But when she took my hand and gently laid it across her stomach, only then did my brain process that what I had early thought only a trick of the light was correct. Then I did nearly crash the car, pulling into an empty parking lot before I could freak out properly.
"Holy shit you ARE pregnant!" I said, my heart in my throat, my horny pink mist being replaced with a black haze of panic. But her impish smile was at odds with my head.
"Am not, Jon. Besides, we've been fucking only a few days, now." She leaned over, walking her hands up my waist and licking her lips. I was powerless to resist her. "Do you really think that you'd have knocked me up by now?"
Despite my fear and anger, my erection had never left, and now Felicity was undoing my seat belt, unzipping my pants, admiring my bulging package in its too-tight underwear. She looked up at me. "This," she said, drawing her hands across her stomach, letting me see the tiny, firm pooch. "This is just my gift to you." Then she leaned down, letting her hot, heaving tits press onto my leg as my hips stiffened in excitement. My dick was free, now, all eight inches disappearing into her wet mouth. Down once and I was shaking, then up again, her unnaturally long tongue writhing along its length. Down, my length probing deeper into her mouth, then up, my cockhead popping out with a moist sound. "Just like this," she said with a shudder, "is your gift to me."
I was long gone in orgasmic bliss when her mouth closed over my erection again and I came, my body heaving, Felicity bobbing her head in time with my thrusts. The pink mist had completely enveloped my vision, now, shots of red and white bursting through it while my dick sent electricity up through me. When I came down I realized that one hand was on Felicity's back, holding her, itching to feel that swollen middle again, not really caring how it had come about.
After she was seated back properly, sucking her teeth and checking her reflection, she grinned at me. "Now, drive us back to your place, and I'll explain while you fuck the brains out of me."
Not even caring that my pants were still down, the pedal hit the metal.
***
"It goes like this," she said, walking back into my room with a beer in either hand. She was naked, now, her red hair tossed around her neck as if she didn't care how gorgeous she was, her swollen tits bouncing on her torso. Now I could see that her nipples were a shade darker than before, their little nubs thicker, more prominent. And below her once trim and toned belly was a small pot, or not even, just a slight convexity where there had before been a hint of abs. "When I have sex with a guy, with someone I feel a real connection with, I change."
"Like what?" I asked, accepting the bottle and taking a long draught. I was fighting to pay attention, to not rip her to the bed and thrust into her with willing abandon. This was interesting, hell, this was probably important, but all of my daylight brains had been left behind me at the fancy restaurant. "Like this?" I eyed the little belly, how it was reforming the contour from her groin up to her belly button before gently sloping back to her tits. So slight, as if she was only a few months pregnant. But so perfect.
She winked, tracing the beer bottle up my thigh, nudging my swollen ballsack and making my erect member twitch, some cum leaking down from the head. I don't think that I had lost my boner even after the earlier road head. "Obviously this thing with my tummy hasn't happened before." She took a sip before rubbing the bottle on her nipple. When she took the cold glass away, perspiration was hanging from the hardened tip. "But before I lost my virginity I definitely didn't have tits as perfect as these." In agreement I leaned in, licking the water away, the texture of my tongue drawing a small gasp from her lips. "And I wasn't a redhead," she said, toying with a lock as I drew myself up her neck, kissing her collarbone, her jawline, the corner of her mouth. "I definitely wasn't Asian."
That one made me stop. "Really?" She laughed at me, our noses touching.
"How many Asians are named Martinez?" she asked.
"Presumably a bunch with a Mexican parent," I offered, and she giggled, the corners of her mouth forming perfect little rises in her cheeks. "Just what I assumed."
"Well, I have two Mexican parents," she said. "Immigrants. Now they wouldn't recognize me." A note in her voice grew sad, but she seemed anxious to cover it up. "Anyway, I couldn't be happier. I get to make all of the men in my life happy, don't I? Whether it be with a different skin or a longer tongue, or, well," she took my wrists and pulled my hands to her belly, letting me feel how firm it was, then drew them up to her tits, helping me see that they were swollen even larger than when I had met her.
Pressing my hands into her warm, giving flesh, I leaned in to kiss her, letting my fat dick push into her crevices. She gasped again, then opened her beautiful eyes that shone black in the dim light. "Of course, I'm not the only one who changes."
"You mean," I grunted before losing myself into the rhythm of my thrusts. She rode with them, lifting her hips in time, pushing her little pot belly up into my naked stomach.
"Oooh, yes," she moaned. "I may have told a fib before. I knew this would," she gasped again, a little, quivering gasp, "happen. But I didn't want you to, to, oh! To freak out," she sighed, then shifted herself, pulling her legs up, letting me get my hands under them. My bigger cock gave me amazing leverage, and I could almost feel a line of power running through its swollen length. I was more inside a woman than I had ever been than it had ever been possible for me to be. How could I complain if she had hidden the truth from me for a little bit?
Her head tossed back, hair messed on the pillows behind her as her back arched. "There are, ah! Downsides. Bu-uh-ut I think, I, I think it's almost all positive!" Gritting her teeth, her brows furrowed in mischief and secrets, her eyes pierced into me for a brief moment, shining through the reddish veins at the edge of my vision. "My first boyfriend made it so easy for me to get off," she said in a fast breath, then threw herself back, lost into the rhythm and pleasure of the moment.
When she came, bucking and lifting and screaming, I cried out, too, throwing myself against her, ready to see what she had in store for me next.
***
"It will happen gradually," she told me a few hours later as we drifted off to sleep. I kept running my hand over her belly as we spooned, ready to feel a change, a swelling. "Maybe while we sleep."
"I don't know if I'll be able to go to sleep," I said, truthfully. "I can't believe you're okay with becoming pregnant."
She shrugged and laughed. "It's not real pregnant. Just swollen tummy, bigger tits. If it makes you happy to be with me," she said, somber as she turned to pass back a quick peck, "then I'm happy to have it."
I was in love, I realized. Not just because she wanted to enact my fantasies, hell, not because she could, but because of the entire package. The mystery of her, the enigmatic way of talking, of holding back, of pushing forward. I had known her for five days now and I couldn't imagine any other woman.
It was just how she wanted it to be.
It felt like hours that we laid there, murmuring soft, silly things to each other, my free hand draping across Felicity's torso, the rose-like smell of her hair in my nostrils. Her skin was so smooth, so soft to touch, eager to jump into goosebumps from my light strokes; was that all from some past boyfriend? The fire in her hair was the freckles on her chest, the gentle slant of her eyes. I didn't want to askónobody wants to ask about their lover's past relationshipsóbut I also was burning with curiosity. Was that why she was so tall? Why her voice was that perfect tenor? Her eyes that shade of brown you can sink into and never emerge from? How much had come from her strange ability?
The concept was thrilling, my imagination going wild. Could I change it? Think of other ways she would be sexy and affect how she looked? Or was it set for everybody, my obvious turn-on being the one made for me? There was something sexy in that, too, and I couldn't say why. Maybe the lack of control, the thrill of having it in another's hands.
Only after going round and round like that for eternity did I realize there was more tummy for my hand to stroke.
"Holy shit," I cried, startling Felicity. She must have dozed off because she jerked, her head bonking into my chin. I didn't care; I was pulling her onto her back, kneeling over her, looking over the changes that had snuck up on me.
"What is it?" she sleepily asked, a coy smile already on her lips. She knew: it was the bulging belly that had arisen, unseen, from her midsection. A perfectly round dome in the golden tones of her immaculate skin pushed back against my fingers, her belly button in the exact center. "You like it?" she breathed, and I nodded ferociously, hardly thinking about the stiffening rod that was pressing up against the warm skin of her bare leg. "It's your handiwork," she said, tracing a circle around her belly. "Your doing. Isn't it beautiful?" Her hands rose up to cup her tits, or at least to try: both had grown in the night, as well, drooping slightly down her chest as they rose above it, fat and slightly firm with blue veins appearing under the surface. Her nipples had darkened more, thickening, perfect for licking and sucking.
I licked one, then sucked the fat nib into my mouth, tasting the hot, pebbly surface.
My dick was burning hot, my balls feeling ready to burst. Fuck, I had grown, too, hadn't I? My vision wasn't clouded as it had been earlier that night, but I was still so distracted by the giggling, pregnant beauty before me that I didn't do much more than look down at the monster jutting out above two tennis ball-sized testicles before getting pulled back to her.
Felicity sure as hell noticed, though, her eyes popping wide as my dick, as hard as a steel girder, pressed up against the underside of her belly. The touch against her smooth, soft skin nearly made me come, but when she reached down and I felt her cup one ball, just one, in her hand, felt her gently squeeze it while cooing, a building orgasm took root at the base of my erection and burned its way up my length. I tried my best to stop it, my hips bucking involuntarily as a squirt, then another, escaped, both of them feeling small but erupting into huge gobs of semen that splattered onto Felicity's naked dome of a belly.
Her other hand released a tit, letting its gravid mass fall against the upper slope of her stomach, and came down to grasp the length of my dick. I spasmed again, letting another wad fly. By now I had probably come more than I ever had in one go, before meeting Felicity. I was turning into a sticky, cum-producing monster.
Felicity's eyes flashed and she pressed my cock against her hot, swollen belly. "Come for me, Jon," she whispered, and I erupted like a volcano. Those three or four little squirts of barely contained orgasm were nothing compared to when I let loose: spurt after sticky spurt pushed from my enormous balls, up my thick length to my swollen cockhead, then flew through the air to splatter against the freckled chest and open, wanting mouth and perfectly round, perfectly smooth stomach of my lover.
When I was done I couldn't do much more than look, lustfully, over her pregnant, cum-covered form. She licked her lips, then, sending a small wave of semen to the ruined sheets, reached under a breast and lifted it to her mouth. The enormous and fat tit was the perfect size to make the distance, and her tongue stretched down, down, to lick the sticky substance up and into her mouth.
"Tasty," Felicity giggled.
After a couple of showers and a cup of coffee, she left me to clean up. "I think I need a new wardrobe," she said, managing to turn such a simple statement into a sexy, open-ended adventure. But then she hit the bullseye: "And besides, I may be growing a bit more, right?"
It was true, she probably would. She was something that had stepped out of my dreams: a statuesque, curvy goddess, with impossible features and hair and lips, who was now sporting a round stomach from my far less public dreams. Just watching her put her shoes on, or gently stroke her belly while sipping coffee, or struggle to fit her swollen tits into her bra: any of these things were more than I had ever wished for, were things that I couldn't resist popping a boner for, as mundane as they were. And yet they weren't the limit that my dreams reached, did they? She hardly looked fully pregnant, and when I fantasized about fucking a pregnant woman, when I had hesitated at my ex asking me if I wanted kids, I didn't picture a woman with a belly only two-thirds done.
So yeah. She would be growing. And fuck if that statement didn't keep me hard for the rest of the day.
I had to return to work the next day, there were things to put into order, but all I could think about was Felicity. She had left me at her place, but she was probably going through the maternity store right now, picking out clothes that would fit her "in a few months". Going through the bras to find some that had more than a few cups' worth of give, and plenty of back support. Getting pants that would stay up even with a huge, swollen belly pressing down on them, and tops that not only had room for a stomach but also for a positively enormous rack.
It was only when I at last tried to get dressed that I realized I'd need to get pants, myself.
I had to admit, as I looked in the mirror, I looked pretty fucking absurd. I was finally soft, probably because of the realization that things would never be the same, and my floppy cock, big as it was, looked kind of weirdly small on top of my heavy, swollen balls. It was definitely larger flaccid than I had ever been hard, a fact that was really fucking cool, and when erect it was fat enough that I couldn't fit a hand around it. My dick just looked strange on top of my big, stuffed scrotum. Strange and enticing, all at the same time. My nuts hung down much further than ever, like the skin of my sack was stretching to keep things as normal as possible. But it wasn't normal, was it? Your balls shouldn't hang halfway to your knees, both of them bigger than your fist.
Well, yours shouldn't. Mine clearly should. Because it felt good, and it felt right. And Felicity loved it, so what else did I really need?
Boxer-briefs kept them mostly contained, and if I squeezed in my jeans I could zip the fly, but it was a tight fit and everyone could see. Would see.
Fine, I thought. Let them see. Get used to it. This is the new Jon, the Jon that gets the gorgeous girl who wants everything he wants, and more. If anyone at work gives me shit, well, let them find out just how real I am.
The thought made me so hard that my jeans started to actually hurt, so I slipped them off and jerked off for the third time that day.
Felicity texted me around lunch to say she was almost done. I only saw that she was coming back soon. She texted me an hour later to say she was on her way. I only knew that she was coming. She knocked on the door and I only heard her gasps of pleasure when I pulled her in, taking off her cute top and fitted capris as I kissed her.
"I picked up something special," she said while I ran my hands over the firmness of her belly. "It'll make our good times completely out of this world." She giggled and revealed a pill between her fingers. I didn't even ask her what it was as I let her place it on my tongue and felt the bitterness dissolve. Pure, complete sexual need filled me, talking me into letting Felicity have her way, no matter what that way was, and as the drugs took hold my brain was washed over with carnic obsession.
My dick felt harder than it was possible to be, my heart racing as the pink mist took hold, grunts building in the bottom of my throat. She was bent over the couch as I rammed her from behind, any attempts at foreplay, at a slow build, completely lost in my lust-filled brain. I fucking wanted her, I fucking needed her. And, in her slick folds, I found her just as wanting.
When I came, the orgasm boiling from my balls up the length of my cock to spill out of her and onto the floor, I screamed in ecstasy, red veins flashing at the corner of my vision while her pussy pulsed and massaged along with me, her cries mirroring mine.
She pushed me back, my thick cock popping out of her to release a wave of cum onto my floor, and her fingers were in it, soaking in my juices. I was panting, still moaning as aftershocks went through me, but she was slyly licking me off of her hand, then kneeling in it, taking me into her mouth while I was still slick with her.
I came again with a roar, filling her mouth and stomach, and this time she came, too, fast-paced whimpers of joy squeaking up her throat as she worked to contain all of me. There was no stopping, though, and first one squirt, then a second sputtered from the corners of her lips. I was coming so much that I was overflowing her mouth, and it was my second time in two minutes.
For a moment my mind cleared. "What did you give me?" I groaned, half in fear, half in wonder. "God, I feeló"
"óalive?" she asked, pushing me down onto the couch, crawling up between my legs. My dick, still stiff and wet, dragged along her collarbone, in between her hanging, fat tits, then bumped against her full stomach. Each touch against hot skin made me feel revitalized, more ready to come again and again. I looked at Felicity's face, framed in pink and red through my hazy vision, and gave in when her sticky lips met mine, as she slipped me, once more, inside her.