Knocked Up: Fertile Fun Volume 2

by Saffron Daughter

  KNOCKED UP: FERTILE FUN VOLUME 2

  A Forbidden Taboo Erotica

  By

  Saffron Daughter

  Published by Fervid Dreams

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  This is a story of taboo lust and love between step-relations. No relations between blood-relations are depicted in this story. All characters depicted in this story are consenting adults.

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  She get's caught... so he has to fill her up!

  Saffron Daughter and Natalie Deschain bring you these two forbidden fertile taboo tales that will leave you reaching for the ceiling fan switch.

  Carly gets caught touching herself by the man of the house... and to make it right, he needs to knock her up!

  Lilly has always wanted a bun in the oven... but she needs it from someone specific... someone forbidden... someone she grew up with!

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  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental. All characters depicted in this work are adults.

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  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  Table of Contents

  Foreword

  Knocked Up: Carly by Saffron Daughter

  Bred by my Brother by Natalie Deschain

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  Knocked Up: Carly by Saffron Daughter

  Home alone… at last. Mum and Dad had been bickering all week, and finally she had just gotten fed-up and left for a girls-only holiday. I don’t know where they went, but I suspected it was a place they could all get drunk and bitch about their husbands.

  Anyway, that is what I imagined women did when they went on their little double-x-only trips. That, and if the movies would have you believe, a bunch of male strippers in thongs.

  I grinned to myself… no doubt a man with a sexy bod was sexy, but I never got the whole thong thing. Why not just be completely naked?

  My mind snapped back to the present. Isn’t this exactly what I was so happy to be at home alone? Mum was gone, Dad was working late… and that meant I could do whatever I wanted, as long as I left no trace of it.

  Number one was the wine I’d bought. They never let me drink at home, but fuck if I wasn’t going to enjoy myself tonight. It was a sparkling moscato – the kind that Mum likes so I could just slip it into the fridge and she’d think she opened two by accident – and I liked it, too. Sweeter, easier to drink, nice buzz.

  After all, what’s a nineteen year-old girl to do when she’s home alone, and grounded?

  Yes, grounded. That story is a long one, but suffice it to say, I blew curfew and Mum nearly blew a blood vessel.

  That had been a screaming match for the ages. It’s not that Mum and I hated each other (sometimes we did), it’s just we didn’t get along is all. She was over-paranoid about everything, and even at nineteen she insisted on treating me like a teenager. She would say that technically I still was a teenager. I would smartly reply that technicalities mean jack, at which point I would usually get a shouting at about my language.

  There was another thing Mum had huge problems with… language. Just because she came from a ‘proper’ household, doesn’t mean that I have to follow the same rules. I mean, God, times are different… and I’m not a stuffy person. I’d rather be comfortable that constrained. So should any woman. That was just a leftover of the sexist patriarchy… but that’s a whole other can of worms.

  So, alone at home, I opened the wine, and poured myself a glass. It tasted good, and because of the bubbles it wasn’t long until I felt that buzz, saw those softer edges. I relaxed on the sofa and tucked into my book… well, it wasn’t my book, but it was one of Mum’s I’d stolen. It was a romance novel, the kind with Fabio on the cover, and actually while I had sneered at first, I was quite enjoying it.

  By my second glass of sparkling wine, my thoughts were on my father. Well, he was technically my step-father, but as I said before, technicalities mean jack. I had known him since I was… what… thirteen? That’s six years. He had earned his Dad Stripes.

  I could still remember the day that I first saw him. Mum had brought him over – they had been dating for a couple of weeks – for dinner. I had opened the door, but only because Mum had made me, and I was just dazzled by what I saw. His smile was so… genuine, so attractive, and his sparkling eyes had looked right into my soul. He was a good-looking man, but he had better-looking eyes. I was… well, I was young and dumb and didn’t say anything.

  He seemed to realize, for he took on the burden of conversation and introductions himself. I just limply shook his massive hand, saw the strength in his forearms, the shape of his body… and wondered to myself just what on earth I was feeling.

  It is safe to say that for a very long time, I was very confused. It wasn’t until I got a bit older than I began to realize what my true feelings were… that I began to realize from the very first moment I’d seen him, Jack, I’d been attracted to him. Just… yeah.

  I shook my head. I knew it was wrong. I knew that I shouldn’t feel that way. It became especially wrong after he and Mum got married when I was sixteen. That had also been a confusing day. I mean… there I was, staring at him say his vows to my mother, and I was… well, I was hopelessly in love with him by that point. No longer was it the teenage-tempered lusts of a developing young woman, but a full-on love that bordered on obsessive.

  But that had faded as I had a string of boyfriends in my seventeenth and eighteenth years. I knew, deep down, that I was just distracting myself. They had… all been inadequate. It just wasn’t the same. Fumbling and tentative, they were everything Jack, my step-father, wasn’t.

  He was confident, and a real man. He took care of everything, and I always felt safe with him…

  I let the novel drop to the sofa. I always felt safe with him. Sighing away heartache, I sipped liberally on my wine, feeling the buzz even more, feeling the liquid courage imbue me.

  Well, I wasn’t going to sit on the sofa and do nothing all night. I already had a plan about what I was going to do. I was going to log onto the computer, and I was going to watch some fucking porn.

  While waiting for it to boot up, I thought again about Jack… you know, I had always suspected he had the hots for me. It was just a kind of fleeting instinct, just something at the edges of detection, but I did. It was the kind of thing where we’d meet eyes for a moment and both look away. Or I’d catch him having a glimpse at me sun-tanning in the garden. Or
when we bumped into each other in the hall and I only had a towel wrapped around me… or he only had a towel wrapped around him.

  I licked my lips. God, he was hot. He had such a hot body. It was… just perfect. Lean in all the right places, carved as if from stone. He took care of himself, and he had to in his line of work. He was the owner of a start-up chain of fitness gyms that had taken the country by storm. He had even scored an international deal and was busy starting up a chain in Australia, too.

  It had been one of those kind of surprise business explosions that happen when there is just the right combination of marketing, savvy, smarts, and niche. I didn’t understand how he did it… but he did.

  The sound of the computer booting brought me back to attention, and I logged on to a website a friend had given me. She’d told me it wasn’t like other porn sites where it was just women with big fake plastic tits, and ugly roided-up men. It was a more nuanced site, more sensual. Sure, the women were still attractive – that was fine – but the men were, too.

  And God she was right! The first video that popped up was of a man who could have been a freaking model. They had these little stories or narratives… like a couple hooking up after a long time apart, or a first-date turning into a first-fuck.

  It was hot.

  And I was getting hot.

  And so as I watched, earphones on so the sound wouldn’t get out, loosened by the wine, I got turned on… and I began to touch myself. Just teasing… I knew I could bring myself there anytime I wanted, but I kept myself at the edges. I swelled, felt hot in between my legs, felt pressure in my belly.

  On-screen, the gorgeous man was fucking, and I had a perfect view of his strong back and tight, round ass. God, it was hot.

  I began to think of Jack… I began to imagine my step-father fucking me like that while I lay beneath him, legs wrapped around his punching hips, while we kissed, shared breath and saliva, stared into each other’s eyes.

  I began to imagine him gripping my hips from behind, burying himself in me from behind while I bucked back.

  I started to think about him filling me up, stretching me wide, making me feel so much, so full.

  I moaned softly. I wasn’t even watching the video now. My eyes were shut and I was imagining the man I could never have making love to me, bringing me to heights of pleasure beyond which I’d ever experienced.

  He would fuck me so well, hard when I wanted it, soft when I needed it. He would pluck chords in my core I never knew existed.

  He would—

  I heard a sound behind me. I whipped my head around, pulling out my earphones. There was Jack standing in the doorway.

  I’d been caught.

  Looking in horror from the screen to my Dad, standing there in the doorway, I shook my head, sputtering nonsense.

  “No… I…. it’s not what it looks like! No… Daddy… I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad. Please don’t-”

  “Stop,” he said, raising a hand. I looked at him. He looked a little tired, a little disheveled. His shirt was open, tie loose, and sleeves folded. So it had been an office-day, rather than a gym-day. He complained about that sometimes. His forearms bulged, veins snaking up then. His shoulders looked broader than ever.

  He actually looked really fucking hot.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “This is what it looks like, isn’t it, Carly?”

  “Yeah,” I said, breaking eye-contact and looking away.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, shaking his head. “Not a problem.”

  I looked back at him. “Not a problem?”

  “No,” he said, stepping forward toward me. “We’ll just need to figure out some way… to make things right.”

  He smiled at me, and stepped toward me. There was something in his eyes I’d never seen before.

  “Daddy,” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

  “Carly,” he replied, taking another step toward me. I wanted to reach out and put my palms on his chest. I wanted to close the proximity between us. God I was so wound-up. I felt like I could burst.

  “I don’t know what you mean by ‘make it right’. Like… chores?”

  “No,” he said. I could feel his body-heat now, smell his scent. He smelled good. That was when I noticed that his trousers were bulging. At first I was shocked, but then a kind of joy whipped through my senses.

  I let my arms swing a little at my side, grinned at him. “What can I do?” I chanced. I was putting myself out there. My heart hammered in my chest.

  He began to slowly lift my top, at first hooking his thumbs beneath the lip of the fabric before folding it up my body until my bra-clad breasts were revealed to him. He reached around me and unhooked my bra, and it fell off my body, a piece of strapless black fabric lying at my feet.

  He groaned while taking in the sight of my nipples, stiff and erect, surrounded by my large, dark areolae. It was obvious he liked them, and that made me swoon inside. I loved that I was turning him on.

  I couldn’t believe it. Jack… my step-father… my Daddy was actually making a move on me! Oh, how long I’d wished for something like this to happen, how many times I’d fantasized while touching myself beneath the sheets, or in the shower… and it was finally happening. My taboo fantasy was finally coming true.

  It seemed that my nipples had called out to him, and he let his muscular, veiny arms drop to his sides and slowly began to edge closer to me, until he was sitting right on the edge of the bed.

  I was staring at him as he was staring at my breasts. He seemed utterly in love with the sight of them.

  “Do you like what you see?” I asked gingerly, my voice quivering on a high not for a moment.

  His eyes snapped up to mine, and he grinned, and nodded. “Oh, Carly, baby girl” he said, nodding. “You have no idea.”

  Encouraged, I brought myself closer toward him, never once looking anywhere but into his eyes. I pulled the chair closer with my legs, the wheels squeaking a little as they rolled over the carpeted floor, my knees bending, opening myself up further for him.

  I had already been so close to coming, and so I started to touch myself again, touch myself properly, make myself feel good in front of him. I don’t know what got into me. I just got this surge of confidence and just… well… how could I not go through with this? It seemed to me something was going to happen between… my forbidden fantasy, and I.

  I wasn’t about to let that opportunity get away!

  I began to moan more regularly, the sensation of pleasure undeniably heightening as I moved closer to him. It was as if our closing proximity was turning me on more… as if… somehow… it was giving me more… pleasure. It was magnetic, electric… fantastic.

  I could now smell his cologne. It was nice. But beneath that, I could also smell his musk, his manly smell. God, I wanted to just bury my face in his crotch and inhale. I wanted to really smell him.

  The smell of my own arousal was starting to fill the air between us as well. I might have felt a pang of modesty wondering if he could smell it… but my surging confidence actually hoped that he could. Because it would send him the right message: Fuck me, Daddy. Fuck me for all you’re worth. It’s what I want. It’s what I need. It’s what I’ve wanted for so fucking long, for as long as I can remember: For you to just destroy me.

  I noticed a growing bulge in the crotch of his trousers, and suddenly couldn’t take my eyes off it. I wanted him to unzip and pull his cock out. I wanted to see him fully displayed to me, in all his sexiness, in all his attractiveness. I wanted him to begin pumping himself while watching me touch myself.

  Together, we’d both watch.

  Looking up his body, I saw that his lips were parted slightly. His endlessly kissable lips… oh, I could suck on his lower lip forever. It was generous, beautifully smooth… the kind of lip that drew the eye. It was rare that a man’s lips were attractive to me, but his definitely were.

  I wanted to feel his breath over me, the intimacy of that, the close
ness. I wanted to be so close to him, feel his stubble on my cheek, just a titillating scrape, and feel the width of his back as I struggled to wrap my arms around his muscular trunk. I wanted to feel the hardness in his muscles, the firmness of his flesh. I wanted his body heat to radiate through me, to thrill me and warm me, while his arms enclosed around me, clasped me, made me feel safe, made me feel wanted.

  Beneath my now sopping panties, he could see the movement of my fingers as I massaged my clit in powerful circles. A tension, an urgency, was growing in my belly, in my lower abdomen. I felt swollen at the juncture of my thighs; sensitive. I was moaning regularly, even embellishing it a little. I needed him to know how turned on I was. I needed him on me.

  He let out a sigh… it seemed to burst out from his heaving chest. I looked at him out of heavy-lidded eyes, begging him to touch me.

  Touch me, Daddy. Touch me, make me moan. Make me feel good. Give me pleasure.

  And he did. He reached forward and touched my nipple. It was electric. The moment his fingertips came into contact with my skin, it was as if some sparks had fired off in my body. My muscles tensed and flexed up, my stomach tightened, and I moaned for him.

  He began to roll and tweeze my nipple. His movements were deliberate, measured. It was clear he knew what he was doing. It was clear he knew exactly what he wanted. That was the hottest thing. It wasn’t just that he wanted me, his step-daughter, the baby girl off-limits to him… no, it was that he knew exactly what he wanted to do with me. There was a seething confidence to him, as if his sexual energy was barely restrained. I felt at the same time that I was submitting to him, but that I was also his prey, caught in his maws of his animalistic lust.