The Curse of Preg Site

Why did I do it? Why did I have to start writing again for that pregnancy fetish site? As I stared at the two purple lines on the home pregnancy test, that question kept racing through my mind.

It had all begun five years before. My second husband and I were recently married and trying for a baby. It would be his first, but my fourth; having three teen children from my previous relationship. We had been trying for a year; almost from the beginning of our relationship.

I was getting more than a tad discouraged too. I knew at thirty-nine that conceiving would not be as easy as it had been in my early twenties. My midwife had told me that it could take eighteen months to two years. But each month when my period arrived perfectly on time was more disappointing than the last.

My lovely husband kept telling me to relax; that the stress was what was causing the problem. He was quite tired of thermometers, charts and carefully timed sex in certain positions to increase the chances of conceiving. So he did a bit of research of his own...a different kind. What he found shocked me. It was a porn site dedicated to pregnancy: getting pregnant, pregnancy itself and lactation.

Now I am no prude; after all I met dear hubby in an erotic chat room for white women to meet black men. But I had no idea that pregnancy could be such a fetish for some people. I did begin to read some of the stories on the site. I have to admit some of them were pretty hot. Our sex life took on a new and more erotic flavour. I began to say more naughty things like 'Fuck me with that big black cock and knock me up.' Those were magic words that got hubby going each and every time.

Now I had also been an amateur author for some time. It began with me writing fan fic based on one of my favorite romance writers. I was proud to say that I was one of the most popular writers on the site. Since I had met hubby and begun the 'baby quest' as he liked to call it, I had not had much time for writing. But reading the hot erotica on the site got those creative juices going. Story ideas began to pop into my dirty little mind. The writing bug had once again bitten me.

A funny thing happened though. A week after submitting my first complete story to the site, I started to feel really tired. A couple of days later, I caught the 'flu.' Then I missed my period. I was nervous; too nervous to even look at the stick as we waited for the lines to appear on the home pregnancy test strip. We did not have long to wait though. Almost before the second, control line that tells you had enough pee to get an accurate result began to appear, the first and most important line faintly hinted at the truth. By the end of those three minutes, its bold purple proudly proclaimed our success.

It became a joke between us that our daughter was the result of The Curse of Preg Site as hubby called it; not a joke we plan to share with her anytime soon, of course. Perhaps my husband had been right all along. Perhaps I was simply too stressed to allow my body to do what was natural. Perhaps the fun of reading and writing about impregnation allowed me to relax enough for it to happen. Who knows?

Of course, over the months and years ahead a little thing like pregnancy, the constant demand of breastfeeding a new baby and then those terrible toddler years meant that my writing was cast aside. In fact, I almost never visited the site anymore...or any other porn sites for that matter. Our lives, including our sex life, became the routine working class existence that entraps so many couples. Rushing to work, compartmentalize work, and then rush home to dinner, dishes, and bath before dropping into bed too exhausted to even think about sex, let alone do it.

Then it happened. I received an email from a fan that had read my old stories on the Impregnorium. He asked if or when I might submit some new ones. It all came flooding back; dozens of story ideas that I had stored somewhere deep in my creative muse. That was all it took.

Instead of watching murder central, my hubby's name for the old Law & Orders, Criminal Minds and Crime TV shows that fill our bedroom television screen each night after our daughter fell asleep; I now typed away at my laptop each night. Soon I had even finished my first novel...ever. It was posted chapter by chapter to rave reviews on the site. Not only did my old fan appreciate the new stories, but I had dozens of others emailing me too. I was soon so popular that I earned the honorary title of goddess...or perhaps that was because of the number of children I had.

Hubby began to joke me that I had better be careful; look what happened last time I wrote for those 'sicko's' (he did not really mean it, of course). But I just laughed it off. After two years of trying, we had given up; thankful for our beautiful little girl that kept me plenty busy. I admit to masturbating after writing more than once. I even began to attack him occasionally.

One night in particular comes to mind. I had just finished another story about the mature, divorced mum, who was screwing a young man in his early twenties that played football with her adult son. The hero of the story looked and acted amazingly like the oldest son of the manager at my daughter's nursery. His long, thick braids were tangled through her pale fingers as she lifted her less than perfect body to meet each hard thrust of his large, uncut black cock inside her wet cunt.

By the end of my typing, I was so horny. Hubby had long since begun to snore loudly next to me. So I decided I would have to once again be satisfied with a strong clitoral orgasm from my own pale fingers rather than the dozens of them that his uncut black cock could give me. But even when I had finished, my cunt spasming as I thought about the fucking my heroine received from that too hot young black man; it simply was not enough.

So I reached over and began to slowly pump up and down at my husband's limp cock. He stirred a bit under the covers, but continued to snore away. Slowly I shifted so that my breath was hot across the uncircumcised head of his cock. My hands continued to massage its full length, but soon my wet mouth was assisting. I sucked his cock deep into my mouth. Let me tell you...no man sleeps through one of my loud, wet blow jobs.

Within seconds, hubby's breathing changed. I could tell he was no longer asleep. Within moments, his strong fingers were flexing into the soft flesh of my hips. I had learned over the years that was his unspoken request for me to ride him. I was more than happy to oblige him as I moved my wide, child-bearing hips over his now hard cock. I slowly lowered my cunt that was exceptionally wet from my earlier diddling onto the full length of him. We both moaned then. I fucked him like this for several minutes; reaching my own orgasm a couple of times.

Unfortunately, my leg muscles always tire long before he cums. One of the things I adore most about hubby is his stamina. So he rolled me onto my back; his cock never leaving its wet home in my shaved pussy. He began to pound away at me. Now this was my favorite position. His deep, powerful thrusts can send me into a series of powerful orgasms; seemingly one after another for minutes.

When he lifted my legs over his powerful forearms and began to pound harder and deeper, I was completely mindless. My mind was certainly not on what part of my cycle I was in at that point. It was consumed with one thought: milking that magnificent cock for every single life giving drop of its cum. My fingers played at his smooth, shaved head as I lifted my quivering cunt to meet each deep thrust. His tongue danced against mine as his hips began the short, stabbing thrusts that I knew would finish him off within moments. I was not disappointed as I felt his large frame trembling with its own release.

Only when he had rolled over and once again snoring loudly away did it dawn on me that this is perfectly mid-cycle for me; the optimum time for conceiving. I was a bit panicky at first. Another baby was not on the agenda anymore. I had moved on to other things; I was changing careers as well as caring for our hyperactive daughter. But then I simply dismissed it. After all we had actively tried for two years without success, so what could one badly timed fuck matter?

Shaking my head at the home pregnancy stick, I was not sure if I should laugh or cry. I think what bothered me most was the 'I told you so' that I knew I would hear from hubby when I told him. He was certain to assume this little 'accident' was the result of the Curse of the Preg Site as he called it.