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“Knock me up,” I beg, biting down on my lower lip as his hips pump between my legs. “Oh God, Daddy, you feel so good. Fuck. Don’t stop!”
He builds up momentum, his heavy cum-laden balls smacking against my ass noisily as he plunges down again and again. He’s grunting and moaning, and I can see his thick muscles glistening with a thin sheen of perspiration.
“Ohh baby, you’re fucking pussy feels so good… the best…” he says with a shudder, pounding me down into the fur rug harder, more savagely, losing all control as he claims me with such wild animal vigor.
Parts of me ache, but all of me feels alive. Like for the first time since I moved out, things are finally happening the way they should.
“You’re gonna make me yours?” I ask, my voice sounding so foreign with its arousal. “Make me all yours?”
“Forever and ever baby!” he says. “You’re mine now,” and he makes it so, pushing up his chest as he pounds down harder, and I feel his cock thicken, bulge and stretch me open wider. He hammers harder, faster, striking into me with such a perfect angle until…
I feel all that pleasure and intensity begin to bubble over again.
“Cum on daddy’s cock baby, do it,” he growls so demandingly. “Cum for me and daddy’ll knock you the fuck up!”
His words are so crass, yet instantly I obey, bringing my fingers to that throbbing bud just above his cock, rubbing it in time to his thrusts. I’m still perched on the edge and so sensitive, and almost instantly I buckle over, my entire body seizing up and then releasing all my warm juices on his cock.
My cries fill the air of the large house, and he pounds me through it, again and again that thick, throbbing dick fills me, even as I gush around him. And then it happens, he lets loose a sudden, shaking moan.
“Take it baby,” he chants, “take all of daddy’s cum like a good girl!” and he grasps my ass, hoisting it just right as he lets loose all he has with a mighty roar. Thick gouts of creamy seed shoot from his cock as he fucks me bareback, streams of his cum filling me up as our sweaty bodies tangle before the fire.
“Fuuuck, you’re mine, all mine!” he bellows, draining every last drop from his loins.
He’s holding me pinned to his body, my legs dangling at his side as he fills me with his seed. I lose track of time as we catch our breath, pinned together like that. He grinds within me, as if wanting to make sure that there’s no risk of me not getting knocked up, and I shudder with ecstasy.
He wraps his arm in under my back, holding me suspended over the rug as he eyes me with such love and affection. No shame in his gaze as we lay in the fire light, basking in our post-coital bliss.
“You’re so beautiful sweetie. The best Christmas present I could ever ask for is to have you back...” he says, his voice gravelly and hoarse. “Much better than a s
imple stocking stuffer,” he adds with a playful grin.
The heat of the fire fills the entire home, the smell of gingerbread cookies cooking in the kitchen making everyone’s mouth water.
I slap the hand of our oldest, Jacob, to get him from touching the hot pan.
“Hey you, get out of here and go help daddy with the lights,” I say with a playful swat on the bottom.
“Can I help him with the lights?” asks Juliet, and I give her a smile and a nod. “Of course sweetheart. Go on. But send Anthony in here. You know how he loves helping mommy with the dishes.”
“Oh-kay,” she grins before running out into the living room. A few minutes later, our middle child joins me and I help him up on the chair in front of the sink.
“Alley-up!” he says playfully before touching a hand to my swollen belly. “How much longer ‘til my new sister’s here, mommy?”
“Another little bit yet,” I say, the sound of the kids and their dad — my daddy — just in the other room. All in all, there’s five of us, and another baby on the way. But every Christmas, my husband and I always like to do something special by the fire. Something that has to wait until after the kids go to bed.
“Mommy, how did you and daddy meet?” Anthony asks innocently, his hands still on my belly.
I pat his dark hair, giving him a sly wink. “That’s a long story. How about we worry about these Christmas dishes, first?”
Professor’s Pet
Book Themes:
Teacher/Student, May/December Relations, Risky Sex, Breeding, and Barely Legal
Word Count:
6,341
