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I keep getting pregnant. I can’t stop. It’s almost like a sport for me. I swear, I deserve a damn medal. I’ve spent eight out of the last ten years pregnant, and my pants are getting tight once again.
It started in high school. I was a little slow getting to the perks of puberty, but when I got them, I got them in spades. Less than five feet became almost six feet and less than an A cup became a snug C cup almost overnight. Naturally, I wasn’t the only one that noticed. It wasn’t long before I had a sizable entourage following me from class to class. Not that I minded the attention. My uptight upbringing flew out the window as I pushed the limits of the dress code. By the time I was eighteen, I was the biggest tease in school.
It was hard staying that way though. The more the guys stared, the more I wanted to show off. I finally reached a point where I no longer saw the purpose of undergarments of any kind. My tits were big, but they held up on their own. I abandoned what was left of my old notions of sexual propriety along with my panties. I’d make out with one guy, give another guy and hand job, and give two other guys a blow job, all in the same day.
My reputation preceded me everywhere I went, but I didn’t care. I kind of enjoyed being the school slut, especially since I managed to earn that title without actually having sex. I was still a little nervous about that. I discovered that I had a latex allergy from an unfortunate physical when I was younger, and I thought I’d be pretty hard pressed to talk my parents into letting me get the pill, not that it would have mattered.
I couldn’t think about anything but sex. I’d take bathroom trips just to get in a few minutes of self-satisfaction. I’d stay after school to let the basketball players get in a good luck grope. I did strip teases for the debate team. Hell, I even gave the chess club hummers. I thought I was going crazy.
I wasn’t going to wait any longer. Like most girls, I wanted my first time to be special, but I didn’t have a boyfriend or anything. Guys wanted to fuck me, not date me, which was fine with me. I had a plan. I was going to earn my reputation as the class slut in spades. With the help of a few friends, I spread the word about how I intended to “congratulate” the football team if they won the homecoming game.
The game was an absolute shutout, and while half the school celebrated at various parties across town, I and a few of my loyal girlfriends started putting together my party back at the school. A few hours later, the guests started arriving. About half the team showed up. Not a bad turnout. Eventually, we locked the doors and I explained my plan.
My girlfriends, Amber, Christina, and Delilah were on fluffer detail. Their job was to make sure the team was ready to go while I fucked their friends. My plan worked out beautifully. One guy after another busted a nut inside my formerly virgin cunt. Some guys lasted only a minute or two, some guys lasted much, much longer. Dante, the running back, fucked me for a good half an hour before he finally blew his load. The girls were just lucky he was one of the last ones. We were all starting to get tired.
Yes, I considered the possibility of getting pregnant. I just didn’t care. I desperately needed to be fucked, and I decided to deal with the consequences later. Four weeks and a couple of home pregnancy tests later, it was time to face those consequences. Of course, it wouldn’t stop me from getting laid.
Strangely enough, it didn’t bother me at all that I was pregnant. I didn’t feel nauseous, my breasts got even bigger and about ten times more sensitive, and most of the guys in my school didn’t seem to mind screwing a pregnant chick. After all, you can’t get a pregnant chick pregnant. If anything, my pregnancy kicked my already out of control sex drive into an even higher gear. Now I wasn’t just a whore, I was a pregnant whore, granting even greater infamy to my reputation.
Believe it or not, I had a plan. There were plenty of couples looking to adopt someone’s bastard out there. I decided not to worry too much about it. I loved being pregnant, and I was getting all the sex I could possibly want from my horny classmates. What more could a girl want?
Admittedly, as my belly grew past my boobs, the number of guys willing to screw me started to drop. The chess team still provided plenty of easy action. I still firmly believed that the further along I progressed, the sexier I became. My friend Matt agreed with me whole-heartedly, and kindly volunteered to photo document my pregnancy all the way from week one to week forty. Naturally, I ended each photo session with a bang of gratitude.
Graduation came at last. I was nine months pregnant with what turned out to be twins. As I final act of debauchery, I made sure that the only thing concealing my heavily pregnant bursa escort frame was my flimsy graduation robes. My friends were so proud of me.
A week after graduation I went into labor for the first time. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as I heard some of the other girls describe. It helps to have hips you can drive a truck through. I saw each one of the babies for the first and last time as they emerged from my womb. When I woke up the next day, I couldn’t help but feel a little sad as I gazed over my much flatter tummy, knowing how much I would miss being so beautifully swollen.
Having my pussy stretched out enough to shove a melon through was enough to kill my sex drive for a little while, but a few short weeks later I was healed up and horny as ever. As it turns out, a quickie in the library is just as dangerous as a gang bang in a locker room. I was only a week into my freshman year of college and I had gotten myself knocked up again. I never did find out the poor guys name, though he bumped into my bump in the cafeteria later that semester. I’d never seen someone run that fast before.
It didn’t matter though. This one was going up for adoption too. My parents were convinced that I was getting pregnant on purpose. There may have been some truth to that, though I never consciously indented to get pregnant. I just really loved sex. It didn’t take long for me to reestablish my position as the campus floozy. Once again, I didn’t mind. I had a steady stream of eager college boys looking to tap my pregnant ass. Even a few girls looked my way, and I promised myself that I would work up to girl-on-girl sex eventually.
Pregnancy did present a few logistical problems. The milk I started making toward the end of my first pregnancy didn’t stop when I started the second. I pumped most of it, selling some to hospitals for petty cash. Luckily, there were plenty of guys and even a few girls that were willing to suck out the rest between classes. Hey, it had to be healthier than ramen.
By the end of the school year I managed to pull off straight A’s and a remarkably short labor. Another lucky couple had a new baby girl to raise and I was left with that vague sense of post-partum emptiness. Luckily I managed heal even faster than last time, and it wasn’t long before I was getting drilled on the dance floor of one of the more popular local clubs.
As it turns out, I was allergic to oral contraceptives as well as latex, so I made a vain effort to encourage that my summer lovers use the pull-out method. Some tried with mixed degrees of success; others ignored me entirely. I didn’t really mind, but my parents were threatening to have a shrink examine me if I got knocked up again. Sure enough by the end of the summer I was in a psychiatrist’s office with a swollen belly.
It was actually very informative. He ordered some blood work and it turned out that I had elevated sex hormones, which were causing my hyperactive libido. He wrote me a prescription which I promptly threw away. He wasn’t upset though, considering the screwing I gave him on my follow up appointment. He was good too. I’m pretty sure that if I hadn’t already been pregnant, he would have put a whole litter in my belly.
It was funny; here I was, almost done with my sophomore year of college and I still never had a real boyfriend yet. I had plenty of good friends, about half of which I fucked on a semi-regular basis. I just didn’t like the idea of being tied down for some reason. Besides, this way I could have sex with as many people as I wanted. I’d lost track of how many guys I’d let in my pants, but I was pretty sure it was well over a hundred.
Of course, I had to take a break when the forth baby was finally born. I wasn’t in too much of a hurry to get to the hospital when I went into labor, thinking I would have plenty of time. Forty-five minutes later I was sitting in my bathtub with a baby in my arms. I’m pretty sure I broke a record with this one. I cleaned myself up, wrapped the little guy up and took him down the adoption center myself. The woman at the desk asked me when he was born, and her jaw almost hit the floor when I said, “An hour ago.”
I was determined not to get pregnant this summer, so I had a new plan. I knew there was no way I could possibly go without sex, so I decided to go with the kind that couldn’t make me pregnant. I hit the local girl bar and made my way to the one table in the place with girls that didn’t look like Rosie O’Donnell. Turns out one of the girls, Julia, liked what she saw, and it a few drinks later I was at her place with my head between her legs. I had no idea what eating pussy would be like, but I ended up liking it ok. Receiving was ten times better than giving. Clearly this girl was a pro.
A few couple of days later I was feeling the itch again and I called Julia up again to see if she wanted to bursa escort bayan do something. As I walked into her apartment, I heard moaning from inside her bedroom. I assumed that she was warming herself up for me, but when I stepped into her room, I found her straddling some guy, who was balls deep in her pussy.
I tried as hard as I could to resist, but even as skilled a tongue as Julia’s couldn’t compete with a nice fat cock. Pretty soon my own tongue was furiously tonguing Julia’s clit as her boyfriend mounted me from behind. Eventually I felt wave after wave of cum spurt inside my absurdly fertile womb, and I knew that baby number four was on the way.
I hung out with Julia and her boyfriend a lot over the course of my latest pregnancy. It was nice having ready access to a couple who were both willing to fuck me at the drop of the hat. As it turned out, they wanted to have a baby of their own, only Julia couldn’t get pregnant. They were thrilled that Steven had knocked me up, and was more than willing to give them the baby as soon as it was born.
Getting to see their baby grow first hand made them incredibly happy, and they had no problem with me screwing around on the side as long I had some energy left for them. Every now and then I’d bring a guy to their place for Julia. Steven didn’t mind, as long as I brought a girl along for him. Every now and then I’d get lucky and we’d have a full-blown orgy on our hands. It was incredible.
One night that spring as Steven unloaded a fresh wave batch of cum in me, I felt a familiar twinge in my womb. I told them what was happening, and though they were surprised at my decision, they were all too happy to let me have the baby right there. After delivering the last one at home, I decided there was little point to having a doctor around. All they did was catch it, and I knew Julia could handle that just fine. A few hours later, a very big baby boy curled up in Julia’s arms as I fell into a deep sleep in the new parents’ bed.
The next summer I decided to go to the doctor to try and find a birth control that would work for me. When I described my situation in detail, he referred me to a very familiar psychiatrist. I was right about that shrink too. I went back to his office in the afternoon as a familiar dampness built up between my legs. The next morning I left his office in a hurry, late for my first class. Five months later I found out that the good doctor had put not one, not two, but three babies in my belly.
Triplets. This was going to be one epic pregnancy. My prediction didn’t disappoint. My belly grew at faster and bigger than ever before. At five months I looked like I was almost full term. At eight months it looked like I was walking around with a two-year-old in my belly. I did go to the doctor regularly this time around, but I absolutely refused to let him induce me early. I was going to ride this thing all the way to the end.
Some guys found my size intimidating, but my sexual urges had never been stronger. Doggy style became my preferred technique as my belly approached beach ball proportions. Though it wasn’t easy on my back, I was in awe of how beautifully swollen I’d become. Once in a while I caught myself wishing that he’d put a dozen babies in me. What would I look like then?
There were some other perks too. My breasts, the size of which ranged from D to a generous double D throughout my various pregnancies grew along with my epic belly. Pretty soon I was making enough milk for a class full of grown men, as my breasts swelled past E, F, finally settling into an astonishing G cup.
Of course, all good things must come to an end. My water broke in the middle of graduation. Frankly, I think people were more surprised that I actually showed up for it. I was a week overdue and as big as a house. Despite my doctor’s protest, I refused to be induced. I had each baby before on my own, and I wasn’t about to cheat with this set. Guess I’m just stubborn that way.
At long last I was a college graduate. I kicked around the idea of starting my own business for a while, but I had no idea how I was going to get the start up cash. I was flat broke and already sporting a brand new baby bump, courtesy of Steven and Julia. They wanted another baby, and they knew I was a sure bet. Between Julia’s tongue and Steven’s cock, I didn’t stand a chance. Unfortunately, this didn’t bode well at the bank. I guess knocked up sluts are considered high-risk loans.
I decided that if I was going to start my own business, I was going have to come up with the cash on my own. Fortunately, a few Google searches turned up an excellent source of revenue. Apparently, there were countless horny guys out willing to pay a few bucks to watch horny pregnant sluts like yours truly get drilled. I wasn’t interested in splitting my profits, so I blew a guy from the computer escort bursa science department and he set the site up at no charge. Favors are nice.
In a few months I was one of the most popular pregnant amateur porn stars on the web. I had more money than I knew what to do with. It dawned on me that I had already started the business I wanted. Amazing what a quality blow job will get you. So I focused all my time and energy on it. I picked up a few tricks from some IT guys in exchange for a few tricks. Pretty soon I was able to redesign and expand the site all on my own.
I decided to get ambitious. After yet another easy delivery, I decided to try something that all my extensive searches determined had never been done on the Internet. I was going to film my next pregnancy, starting at the very beginning, the moment I got knocked up.
Finding a guy to get me pregnant on camera wasn’t easy. Legally speaking, I had to get his consent in order to post the video online, and most guys were terrified that I was going to land them in a shotgun marriage. Steve was out too: two kids were enough for now apparently. The hardest part was abstaining from sex for long enough to find the right guy. I wasn’t completely successful, but even though a couple of guys at the club tried their best to knock me up again, I remained baby-free for a while.
The perfect guy turned out to be right under my nose. Matt was more than willing to knock me up on camera, provided he got a percentage of the sales. Sounded fair enough. I hired three extra photographers for this shoot, two of them just to capture the cumshot. I wanted there to be no doubt that I’d been impregnated on camera.
For the first time in my life, I actually tracked my menstrual cycle with some interest. The perfect day arrived. Lights, camera, action. And holy shit was there action. I hadn’t fucked Matt in a while, and damn could that guy fuck. I thought he was going to put a litter in me. Missionary, cowgirl, doggy style, standing, we kept on changing it up. We fucked for hours, until finally I felt the familiar pulsing of his cock as it exploded inside me. I almost passed out as I felt a thick stream of cum leak slowly out of my cunt.
Matt helped me document the pregnancy in exchange for access to my pussy on demand. Like that was a bad thing. Sure enough I was pregnant. Matt even had the stomach to film me pissing on the pregnancy test. Like I said, I wanted there to be no doubt. As my belly swelled once again, Matt captured each day of it on camera. I talked him into moving in with me so he wouldn’t miss a minute of my pregnant glory.
Though I still fucked a small army throughout my seventh pregnancy, I found myself spending more and more time with Matt’s cock in my pussy. This was inevitable, given the amount of time we spent together, but still. It was almost like having a boyfriend that didn’t mind me fucking other guys. I mean, I certainly didn’t mind him fucking other girls. Sometimes we even tag teamed it. He was like my best friend.
Labor was the same as usual with this pregnancy with one major difference. This time Matt was there holding my hand. I’m not sure what I was feeling as I brought another little girl into the world, but it was different, and I liked it. For the first time, I held the baby I had just given birth to, as Matt sat smiling beside me. I felt contentment, a joy that I had never felt before, and I realized that though I had given birth to ten children, this time I was finally a mother.
Three years later, my life was in many ways very much the same. My pants were getting tight again, this making the sixteenth baby I was about to bring into the world. My website was still going strong, with thousands of pictures and videos of me in innumerable situations of pregnant debauchery.
A few things were very different. In most of those pictures I was wearing a modest, but beautiful wedding ring. My daughter was almost four years old, and Matt was my husband as well as top photographer. We hadn’t kept any other the other children that I’d given birth to, but we planned to eventually. Matt loved me enough to let me fuck whoever I pleased, and I loved him enough to let him do the same. He has a ways to go before he can compete with me in terms of sluttiness, but he’s getting there. He just hit triple digits yesterday. I’m so proud of him.
That’s how I came to appreciate the simple, elegant cycle that my genetic code bestowed upon me. I need sex because of my hormones. I can’t use birth control because I’m allergic. Therefore, I get pregnant. I was the perfect baby maker, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I leave you with a parting word of wisdom. This is for all the guys out there that haven’t experienced the delight of pregnant sex, either out of hesitation, antipathy, or just lack of opportunity. When you see a lovely pregnant goddess walking down the street, try your best to get her number. Pregnant girls don’t get hit on that often, but believe me, we find it flattering. And who knows. You might just be in for the best sex of your life.
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