rrraaazzz: IV ALWAYS WANTED MY OWN BABY The most satisfying moment in my life… Sitting on top
rrraaazzz: IV ALWAYS WANTED MY OWN BABY The most satisfying moment in my life… Sitting on top of my father as he lay there drunk and passed out,two weeks before my eighteenth birthday, naked and beautiful. Arching my back as pleasure coursed through me, knowing every bit exactly what I was doing, knowing he had no clue. Feeling his member throbbing inside my gripping, flexing tunnel, savoring every twitch, every increasingly powerful contraction as my Father came oh so close to the moment of release. His breath catching, hands gripping my hips so tightly, eyes flying wide in shock but to late to do anything about it..And then… His warm, thick seed pumping into my body. I was immediately consumed by a fearsome orgasm, knowing this was it, I’d finally done it. I was going to be pregnant. Right now, My fathers beautiful hot potent incest seed was swimming deep into my teenage womb, where I knew an egg would be waiting. If not now, then soon. Assaulting it, fertilizing it. Impregnating me, transforming me into a mother. It was all I’d wanted, ever since I was a little girl and mom told me it was the big thing that made us different from boys. I heard the horror stories, the girls forced to bear children against their will, but none of it bothered me. I found myself consumed with the idea of it, the curiosity evolving into a desperate need to feel a baby taking form inside my body. So much so that it became a fetish for me, almost an obsession. I read everything I could about pregnancy, childbirth, impregnation. Every new thing I found, everything I learned only made my whole body tingle with desire, with need. And so, that day, I came to my father I’d been flirting with for some time and offered myself to him. Of course, I said I loved him in a way a daughter shouldn’t love her father, and just wanted to lose my virginity to the Man I loved all my life.In reality, But he had always refused my advances, So I’d had to wait till today when he was drunk and passed out. I knew it was the most dangerous time for me to be having sex with anyone, that I would almost certainly conceive from it. It made everything so much more intense for me, so much more powerful. I took the pregnancy test on my birthday. I cried with joy when it came up positive. There was a baby growing inside me. I was going to give birth, in a little less than nine months. I couldn’t stop caressing my midriff for the rest of the day, imagining how much progress I’d already made. The next few weeks, I spent almost perpetually naked whenever I could get away with it. Staring at my reflection, touching my belly, my hips, my breasts. Waiting for that moment I’d start showing, savoring and noting every tiny change that happened in me. When my midriff became hard I couldn’t stop pressing on it, arousal coursing through me at the physical re-enforcement of my condition. Then, day by day, I watched my flat midriff beginning to push outwards. Ever so slowly, my outline, my form began to change. The skin felt so warm, so tight, stretching around my swelling womb. I desperately wished I could get someone else to stroke it, there was already the faintest feeling of pressure building inside, the child I was growing within my slim frame starting to press and push and grow. My womanhood was starting to change as well. Everything started getting a tiny bit puffier, a little more swollen. The slightest touch sent shivers through my whole being, as every nerve in my body became more sensitive. My physical needs began to get overwhelming, my mind roaring with lust at the idea of how good that sex I’d enjoyed so much before would be now, with everything so much more receptive. After about 6 months, I began to flaunt my condition. I’d began to get an obvious swell to my belly, couldn’t keep my hands off it. I continued wearing all my old shirts, none of them covering me properly. I got maternity clothes, carefully making sure they were all pants and shorts. I didn’t want to be in a dress for my pregnancy, not even once. I began to feel kicks from inside me, small prods and movements that sent me to my knees when I was alone and could properly delight in the sensation. There was a life inside, squirming and growing. Filling me more by the second, bringing me closer to giving birth to it. I was getting very excited about that. I knew exactly what I wanted. Most would call me crazy, but I’d craved it, lusted after it for a long time now. But it wasn’t time for that yet, I still had a few more months to delight in my body adapting to motherhood. My breasts were growing, filling with the milk I would feed the baby forming in my womb. When I was alone I would squeeze them slightly, just enough to make the delicious pale fluid begin to leak from my nipple, delighting in how bizarre it felt, tasting the sweetness coming from my own body. By the end of any given school day, my shirt would have two little wet spots where my swollen chest had begun dripping. By the end of my eighth month, my belly button poked out, the surface of my pregnant swell one massive erogenous zone. The slightest touch was enough to get me intensely aroused, every kick from inside filled me with need. It felt so good, so right, being pregnant. My whole body shifting to suit the needs of my offspring. I almost never wanted that last month to end, wanted to be pregnant forever. But eventually, it was time to deliver my child into the world. I was wearing my normal outfit, drawing everyone’s eye with my full, round belly on display, a pair of shorts around my hips with panties underneath, knee-high socks and sneakers on my feet. I was walking through downtown, crowds hustling back and forth, people shopping and joking and eating. I’d been having contractions off and on for a good while, and they were getting stronger, closer. There was a relentless pressure growing inside me, my baby starting to press down against my cervix. It would be time soon, and I couldn’t wait. I was just walking passed a fountain, the waters splashing happily when a powerful spasm held me tight, and I stopped, holding my tight belly as it shrank beneath my hand. My eyes filled with tears, the pressing feeling inside was getting so strong. My child was so big, its head felt huge. It was getting to be too much, any second I was going to pop… I opened my legs ever so slightly, my primal need to spread myself wide and give birth as fast as possible making itself known, even if I was fighting it. Then, a small pop, likely only heard by me. The awful pressure dissipated. And then, amniotic fluid began to gush from between my legs. Soaking my panties, my shorts, my socks. Running down my thighs, making me shiver and moan. I looked around, amazed that somehow, apparently, nobody had seen my waters break. I stood for a bit, savoring the feeling of my skin and clothes soaked with birth fluid, breathing in the heady aroma. I could smell how close I was to holding my baby, feel how hard the head was pressing. I wanted it. I wanted to give birth as slowly and painfully as I could. I wanted to scream and cry my baby out, even as my fetish made me powerfully aroused. This was the perfect start to living my fantasy, and I was ready for everything that would follow. I moved from the spot before I got too many strange looks. Walked to one of the benches, and sat, watching the fountain. Anyone who noticed how wet I was, asked if I was ok, I told that a kid had splashed me, it was water from the fountain. Meanwhile, I began to sweat, the contractions far stronger than even a short while ago. Oh god, I could feel it, the head beginning to force it’s way down, force my cervix open with every painful cramp. I let my legs open slightly, but stayed dressed, didn’t try to go anywhere. I wanted everyone to watch me give birth to this child, this eighteen-year-old girl delivering in the ultimate expression of feminine power. I tried to breathe through my labor, gasping quietly as my birth canal was stretched by the gradually emerging infant, my spasming womb and tunnel the only thing helping it along. I’d never had anything even close to that big inside me, it pressed against my most sensitive areas, causing pain and pleasure in equal measure. My fingers gripped the bench I was sitting on, thighs quivering as I fought the needs of my body, the desperate urge to bear down with all my might and get my firstborn out of my aching, sweaty frame. I simply inhaled and exhaled, my opening dripping with fluid as I tried to quietly breathe my baby out. I began to involuntarily give in, catching myself pushing, holding my breath and opening my legs slightly wider before I was properly aware of it. The baby would slip forward in a sudden surge of motion when this happened, forcing me wider, the sudden movement causing small, pained cries to escape me. I began to worry. I was too young for this, only eighteen, I couldn’t have a child here, now, like this. But it was far too late for such doubts, another contraction slammed into me, and I at last helplessly gave in and pushed as hard as I could, moaning as I felt my lips bulging. I was so close to crowning, the head was right on the cusp of slipping out of me. There was already so much tension, I could feel my panties pressing against my gender, the fabric soft and wet. My delicate slit was impossibly tight, even though I’d only just started to push outward. I slipped a hand down, beneath my clothes, and dragged a finger over the skin of my womanhood. The taut, bulging flesh tingled and burned deliciously as I fondled it, and my baby’s head felt gigantic. My own body was so small, my mind cried that there was no way it would fit, and I savored the knowledge that it would be a difficult delivery. Within seconds another spasm gripped me, and at last, it was time to let loose. “I’m… I’m HAVING A BABY!!!” I screamed, as the burn of my teenage slit being forced open consumed me. Everything was stretching as people began to look. I threw my legs wide as my labia strained, bulging out more and more, not opening any wider as I bore down. I kept pushing, desperate to at least get my womanhood to part around the head slightly before I stopped. It hurt so bad, everything was pressure and fire between my legs, the raw sensations becoming overwhelming, consuming me in the heady, hormonal rush of labor as I fought to successfully crown into my underwear. At last, I felt the head nudge forward properly, causing my lips to retract around the skull of the emerging infant. The contraction ended, and I was left panting, shivering and sweating with the effort. Now everyone in the area was gazing between my legs, and I knew the head was starting to form a bulge in my shorts. Eyes went wide as those watching my delivery realized what the growing bump between my legs was, that this beautiful teenage girl was going to scream her child out right in front of them. I fought the urge to grin as gasps ran through the gathering crowd, my massive womb visibly shrinking in front of them. The surprised gasps were drowned out by my pained shriek, however. The pain caught me off guard, but I didn’t have to hide it anymore, and let myself do as I needed to, whatever felt natural. I felt the child forcing it’s way out of me as I bore down, giving everything within me to the process of birthing. I could hardly believe this was really happening, that I was pregnant, becoming a mother, birthing. Now it was the only thing I could do, push with the intense pain, the consuming fire of a human being slipping out between my legs. “Oh god, it BURNS! I’M GIVING BIRTH INTO MY PANTIES SOMEBODY PLEASE!!!” I wasn’t sure what I was asking, wasn’t even aware I was talking, but my firstborn child was coming out the same way it was put into me nine months ago, slipping out of my stretched, aching femininity the same way that single sperm was put into me by its father. It seemed so impossibly long ago, caressing my womb, unaware how overwhelming and painful this would be. People cried out for help, blushing and muttering to one another as the crowning head of my soon-to-be-born child forced my panties and shorts to tent more and more by the moment. My toes curled within their socks, hands gripping the bench tightly as I sweated and strained. Tears ran down my face as the pain coursed through me, the pressure relentless. I had to push, had to have my child as soon as possible, my body demanded it. The head opened me more with each push, fluids leaking from my teenage gender with every pulse and clench of my birth canal. I kept screaming for help, for the baby to come out, barely aware of what was being torn from my throat by the raw sensation. But one thing I didn’t let anyone know with all my screaming was that, in spite of the fire consuming my loins, there was so much more that was driving me wild. The feeling of my clothes straining around my emerging child, the sensation of being so impossibly full… I was creeping closer to a powerful orgasm, one made half of the extreme pain of delivery, and the other the sexual thrill of motherhood. As my straining womb began to quiver with more than just the next contraction, I lifted my feet from the ground and gave my all to bearing down as hard as possible. The shoulders slipped down forcing me even wider inside, I felt the toes dragging along my most sensitive, pleasurable areas. I let out quick gasps and cries as I felt my womanhood burning, struggling to open far enough. I could feel that I was close to tearing, the head at the widest point. It ached hideously, even as pleasure surged from my delicate gender at how wide it was being forced, how much was inside me. “PLEASE!!!” I shrieked, as I drew my legs up in front of the massive audience watching this teenage mother have her first baby in public. I gripped behind my knees, forced my chin down, and gave everything I had do delivery. And I last, I was rewarded by the head gushing out of my hot, dripping petals. I felt more amniotic fluid surge out from around the head, and everything finally overwhelmed me utterly. My womb began contracting rhythmically, and pleasure mingled with pain began to crash through me. My thighs quivered, my mouth locked open, and I pushed without thinking as the most intense orgasm I’d ever felt swept me away. It was as if I was going insane, everything was white and black, good and bad, pleasure and pain, mingling and mixing and swirling, my laboring flesh only a physical vessel for some cosmic event that for some reason was only occurring now. Two opposing forces becoming one inside my teenage frame, and with everyone staring at me as I helplessly came, squirting as my firstborn continued to slip into my underwear. My orgasm wouldn’t stop, not until I’d succeeded in giving birth, I could tell. But that happening was out of my hands entirely, all I could do is let my convulsing body press down on the infant, helping it on its way as some people called for me to push, that I was so brave, that I was doing it, just a bit more. Just a bit more… just had to push… “Oh god it burns, THE BABY!!!” I bellowed as the shoulders forced my delicate lips to part even more than before, the mingled extasy and agony unending, this new pain only adding to the overwhelming sensation washing me away. I tensed every muscle in my body, fingers digging into my legs and toes forming tight fists as I screamed my child out, just as I always wanted, the orgasm washing all the way down to the every ends of my body, and gasping in breaths as it retreated into my core. Then, at last, with a final shudder and desperate push, my baby’s shoulders cleared my aching, over-taxed gender, and as I reached into my soaking wet clothes and drew my newborn from them, with a final gush of fluids (just as much amniotic as another squirt brought on my the sensation of my baby slipping quickly out…) my orgasm slowly subsided. I lifted my shirt, letting my daughter suckle from my heavy breath, shivering at the sensations, both the fading ones from delivery and the new ones of the milk being drawn from my nipple. The next few days were exciting, discovering all the new activities of motherhood. Fortunately for me, my little sweetheart was a fairly easy kid. Of course, I also made sure to have all the time in the world for her, so it’s possible that was just because I spoiled my baby with attention. I couldn’t help but wonder, when I looked at her crib, how long it would be before she came to have a child pushing out her own tummy, eagerly filling my little girl’s womb. Just thinking about it made me a little shivery. So shivery, in fact, that it wasn’t long before I sneak into my fathers room again so I can, unknowingly working to make a little brother for her… -- source link