by Tammy Goaren
He lifted himself from my breasts, watching them jiggle up and down as his body slammed into mine. He straightened up, planting his hands on my thighs again, digging his fingers into my flesh. He grabbed ahold of me so tightly that I was afraid he would draw blood. He then forced my legs open even wider, and pushed them down even deeper, until I was essentially hugging my knees to my chest. My pussy tightened, but his penetration grew. He intruded further into me, his thrusts moving in and out of me so fast that with each plunge came a renewed jolt of intense pleasure. I couldn’t do anything to keep my balance atop the chair, and let my limbs hang limp off the sides as I gave in completely to his primal urges.
More moans escaped my throat. I couldn’t help but relish in the infliction I was receiving; I had never been violated so deeply and so wholly. I watched Doctor Luberman’s body; I watched as his pelvis lifted when he pulled his cock out of me, and I watched as all of his muscles contracted as he shoved his bulk back into me. With each thrust, my pleasure grew. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep myself from crying out. I tried my best to stay quiet, knowing that our noises would risk discovery and cost him his job, but the thrill of getting caught only added to my intense feelings of ecstasy.
“I love using your lush, fertile body”, he said breathlessly. “You’re going to so easily bear my child, I can feel your womb aching for the chance to be impregnated…”
I panted. “Please fill me up.” I wouldn’t be satisfied until I could return home with an engorged, pregnant belly and large, swollen tits.
His thrusting immediately stopped, and he pulled my legs free of the stirrups. With animalistic vigor, Doctor Luberman grabbed me and flipped me over on my stomach.
“Get on your hands and knees”, he huffed. “I’m going to penetrate you from behind, so I can deposit my seed into your womb directly. Now there will be no chance of you leaving this room without you being pregnant. I’m going to fill you to the brim, you little breeder.”
Chapter 3
I immediately rested my weight on my knees and elbows, propping myself up for Doctor Luberman. I arched my back, sticking my ass out in his direction. My legs were spread wide, exposing my hole to him so he could use me entirely. My pussy was sopping with wetness. He roughly grabbed my hips, digging into my pelvis. Immediately, the head of his cock plunged into me again, stretching me out in new ways. From this angle, I was much tighter - if that was even possible. I could feel the walls of my vagina tearing as his cock slammed into me, but I didn’t care. He was using me like the cum dumpster I was. I wanted nothing more than to be impregnated. I had tried so desperately for months to achieve what Doctor Luberman was going to do to me in mere minutes. I opened myself to him as best as I could, taking the full girth of his cock inside of me, doing everything I could to pleasure his dick so that I could feel him bursting inside of me.
The heavy thrusting continued. He pushed down on me, his massive cock sliding in and out of me completely, leaving my tunnel aching with emptiness every time he left. He would ram right back into me again, making my sides raw. There was nothing protecting me from his sperm; any minute now I would become pregnant.
Doctor Luberman leaned forward, pressing his torso against my back as he plunged deeper and deeper inside of me. His hands glided across my body, feeling every inch of my fertile form. My ample breasts swung freely below me, hanging down, bouncing with the vigor of each thrusts. I longed for them to be swollen with milk, I wanted to see them growing bigger and bigger, further verifying my pregnant form.
He took each breast in his hands as they bounced fully on his palms. He began to squeeze them, gently at first, and then more roughly, grabbing and pulling them while he moaned. He leaned all the way forward onto me, which caused his erection to feel much larger inside of me, my pussy screaming out as he plunged deep into my cervix. I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck as he licked me, nibbling on my ear as he roughly toyed with my heaving breasts.
“Such supple breasts”, he whispered lustily into my ear. “You will have no problem lactating when these are swollen with milk.” He pulled on them, squeezing them like udders. “You’re going to be milked for months.”
The thought of my heaving breasts turned me on beyond imagination. I thought of lactating, I thought of my swollen breasts and nipples, I thought of how irresistible they would look.
He continued to pull on them, and it felt like they were filling up already. His hands thoroughly massaged me.
He continued to huff in my ear as he thrusted into me. His thrusts were starting to become more certain and refined, like he was aiming for something. I could feel his cock tighten and pulse as it twitched inside of me. His testicles were swollen against the back of my legs, and he heaved as he pushed into me. He was about to make me a mother.
He let out a heavy grunt in my ear as he erupted inside of me, his hot, massive cock spurting thick streams of semen into my womb. His dick pulsed against my cervix as he unloaded many months’ worth of sperm into my fertile little cunt. My body shuddered and pulsed in pleasure as he continued to shoot load after load of virile seed into me. I could already feel my belly getting larger. Doctor Luberman had done it; he had blasted a baby inside of me. I closed my legs, tightening my pussy to seal in all of his wonderful semen. I would do everything in my will to keep it inside of me.
He panted for breath as he pulled his thick cock out of me, holding my legs closed as he leaned against the wall for support. His eyes washed over my body one last time as I picked up my things. I quickly gathered my clothes, blushing profusely. I was turned on, embarrassed, and fulfilled all at the same time.
It was hard to walk home; I felt completely and utterly filled to the brim when I left Doctor Luberman’s office that day.
STORY FORTY-EIGHT
Chapter 1
I grimaced with frustration at the massive workload attached to the innocent-enough looking email. The desktop monitor that sat less than a foot away from my face at all times always seemed to be a prime harbinger of the endless stream of assignments that consumed my workday. I clicked on the first of the attached files and was instantly bombarded by a hoard of bloated spreadsheets filled with sales figures contrasted with operating expenditures. I sighed and went to work. My official title was executive financial operations consultant. To put it in layman's terms, I was the bean-counter assigned to find as much money for the asshole CFO, who could in turn report his findings to the asshole CEO, who ultimately would tell the board where all the money was going. The other part of my job was making suggestions on how best to minimize expenditures or as my boss referred to it, cutting the fat. That was the nice way of saying to try and make the corporate slaves take lower salaries, while at the same time getting them to be more productive. Uplifting, I know.
I was typing away when I heard a knock on the door to my office. I looked up from the computer and saw a tall, athletic figure at the opened door.
“Hi, Janet,” he said.
“Hello, Harry,” I said, trying to hide my nervousness. Harry Parkins was the kind of man that you didn't want to piss off. With his linebacker build and his piercing hazel stare, he was intimidating enough, but then there was his job. Harry’s official title was corporate board liaison, which meant that his job was to report any problems or lack of productivity directly to the board of directors. With one word, he could make put an errant employee on watch or worse. In many ways, he was more influential than the CEO and whenever he spoke to me, I couldn’t help but feel like I was under a microscope.
“How's it going?”
“Good,” I lied. “Just got some new figures to work on.”
“Right.” He strolled into the room and closed the door behind him.
My heart sank into the depths of my stomach. Harry was going to give me one of his infamous and unannounced one-on-one sessions. I felt intimidated and scared, yet I never dreaded the meetings. Harry was undeniably attractive; even under his bland suit anyone who was paying
any kind of attention could tell that he was bulging with rock-hard muscles. I shuddered to think of any person stupid enough to pick a fight with him. Harry’s quiet intensity combined with his Conan the Barbarian-esque appearance made him the pinnacle of reserved masculinity. There were many times where I thought it would be a privilege to know him outside of work and get a chance to see how all of that time in the gym translated to the bedroom.
Harry approached the desk and my stomach turned into butterflies. Something was different. His posture and bearing seemed to have a quizzical nature. Harry’s eyes turned to narrow slits and he began a long, wordless, stare. I won’t lie, it turned me on.
“Do you have last quarter’s numbers?” he asked. “In their original drafts?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “But, I gave them to Bob and he gave them─”
“Email them to me.” He interjected. “I want to get a look at those old numbers before you sent them to Bob.”
I thought about it for a moment and then blinked. “Sure. I’ll email them to you right away.”
“Good.” Harry seemed to regain his normal bearing.
For the life of me, I couldn’t think of why he wanted an old quarterly report, but Harry wasn’t the type of man you said no to. Not that I would ever want to. Harry’s confidence combined with his stunning good looks made him the envy of every woman at Cumberland. I would think about him from time and there nights were I woke up with Harry’s name on my lips.
“I’ve been talking to Mr. Garret,” Harry said matter-of-factly. “He wants to have a meeting with you later tonight. Would that be all right with you?”
At that moment it felt like a weight had dropped on top of me. My whole body became heavy as I thought my answer over carefully. Howard Garret was the chairman of the board of directors and the majority shareholder of Cumberland Holdings. To put it bluntly, Garret was a maverick; by age twenty-four he had made his first billion and by twenty-seven he had an empire composed of investments in various different industries. Howard Garret seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to making money and to be honest, I couldn’t be quite sure why he wanted to talk to some two-bit accountant like me.
My mouth went dry and I stumbled over the words. “Tonight?” I croaked. “Why?”
Harry continued his long stare at me for a moment and then smiled. “He’s been quite impressed by your work,” he said. “He’s told me on multiple occasions that he thinks you have a finger on the pulse of Cumberland Holdings. More so than any of the people in charge.”
My mind was going a million miles an hour. How could Howard Garret, millennial billionaire wunderkind, even know I existed? The financial reports I wrote couldn’t have been that good, could they? This was an invitation I knew that I couldn’t pass up. Harry was studying my face for any sign of my answer to his proposal. “When? Where?” I asked.
Harry gave me a rare smile. “1400 Oak Stone Lane. It’s the big house on the right. Impossible to miss. Eight o’clock.”
“Okay,” I nodded. “Eight o’clock.”
“I’ll email you all of the specifics, in case you forget.”
I felt the beginnings of grin creep onto my face. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Chapter 2
Sitting in the front seat of my Buick Regal, I couldn’t help but panic. Howard Garret’s massive house was less than a mile away and I was over forty-five minutes early. The prospect of meeting my boss’s boss had made me overanxious and I gave myself twice the time to get to his house for fear of being late. The thought of being way too early had come into the back of my mind, but when compared to the idea of being late, the two didn’t even compare. I pulled over to the side of the road and put the car in park. Being really early could give a sort of weird first impression and first impressions were everything. On the way over, I bought the latest edition of Forbes magazine and National Enquirer which both had Howard Garret as the cover story. I picked up the magazines and looked at the cover photos. In Forbes, Garret was wearing an elegant three-piece suit with pinstripes. I wasn’t exactly an expert on men’s fashion, but I could tell that a suit like that had to cost at least five thousand dollars, if not more. Garret had a lax frown on his face as if he thought the whole cover story was a complete waste of his time. Yet, even with his negative demeanor, Garret looked stunning. He had a flawless head of chestnut brown hair and two enticing green eyes. The picture in National Enquirer was so grainy, it was hard to even tell if it was him. However what National Enquirer lacked in photography, it made up for in the interest department. The article noted that Garret had appeared at several high-profile events including, movie premiers, fundraisers, and celebrity parties, all without a date. The article speculated openly that Garret was either a closet homosexual, a complete nutcase, or a simply a happy bachelor.
The question continued to ring in my head like a buzzer. Why did Garret want to see me? I pulled down the vanity mirror to make sure I was presentable. Deciding what to wear had been near impossible. How do you impress one of the world’s richest men? I scoured through my wardrobe in search of something that would catch his eye, but I gave up. There was a good chance, neigh a certainty, Garret had seen something ten times better. I settled on a black pantsuit with a blouse that had the first two buttons undone and a push-up bra. If nothing else, a face-full of cleavage would make the billionaire look twice.
I put my car in drive and drove up to his address. There was a one-lane road that went from the street all the way up to the house and I had to pause for a moment to take it all in. The neoclassical mansion was at least four stories tall. The most prominent feature was a balcony in the shape of a semi-circle that sat atop a row of ionic pillars. It was grandiose, but not in a gaudy sort of way. The mansion looked like it had been stolen from the acropolis. I pulled up right next to the veranda and put the Buick in park. I got out of the car and went straight for the door. Anxiety hit me like a bucket of water. Fearing a breach in some kind of etiquette for the uber-wealthy, I hesitated to knock on the door. I bit my lower lip and decided to go for it. I took hold of one of the massive brass knockers and banged it into the oak door. There was a deep boom as the metal crashed onto the sturdy wood.
As the sound died down, I felt that familiar knot in my stomach. That nervous bundle of butterflies seemed to be fluttering all at once; clawing at me in anticipation. I glanced at my watch and sighed as I realized I was thirty-five minutes early. I cursed myself for not being more alert. I was about to knock for a second time when I heard a patter of footsteps. The door opened. Harry stood in the doorway and greeted me with a half-hearted smile. Immediately, I knew something was wrong. Harry was breathing heavy and sweating profusely. He had traded his suit for a pair of khakis and an open-collar dress shirt which emphasized his traps. The upper half of his shirt was drenched in sweat. Instantly, the thought that I had interrupted him in the middle of something crossed my mind.
“Hello Harry,” I said. “I’m sorry that I’m here early─”
“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said in between short breaths. “We just weren’t expecting you so soon.” He stepped aside. “Please, come in.”
***
I went through the doors and walked into the long hallway ahead of me. The first thing I noticed about the interior of the mansion was its opulence. The walls were covered with original paintings by Matisse, Picasso, and Van Gogh, just to name a few. Underneath my feet was an authentic Persian rug which had to be at least a couple hundred years old. Hanging above the rug was a French-cut ormolu chandelier which provided the room’s light and a good amount of its ambiance. I had to give Garret credit; he knew how to spend money.
“He’s waiting for us in the study,” Harry said, walking down the fine hall. “This way.”
I couldn’t help but sigh. The hallway was a thing of beauty and I wanted to stay and admire it for just a bit longer. Luxury of this degree was something that people like me rarely saw and could never obtain. I took another long look at one o
f the Picassos and followed Harry into the study. Howard Garret’s study did not disappoint. Like the hallway, it was a room of splendor which displayed his unfathomable wealth. It was wood-paneled with a large bookcase that encompassed the far wall and stony fireplace with Ming pottery and exotic trinkets lining the mantelpiece. There was a large pine desk near the back window and behind the desk sat Howard Garret. The young billionaire was staring intently at the screen of his desktop computer. Like Harry, he was dressed in business casual attire with an open-collar dress shirt. However I quickly noticed that wasn’t the only thing Harry and Garret had in common. It was hard to tell at first, but I quickly realized that Garret was sweating. His nostrils were also flaring in and out as if he had just finished running a mile. Why are they so sweating so much? I thought. Were they exercising? As Garret looked up at me and smiled, I realized that I had just interrupted something. As to what I was interrupting, I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Miss Hughes,” Garret said as he rose from his desk. He got out from behind it and approached me with his right arm extended. “Thank you for coming.”
I took his hand and shook it. “Thank you for inviting me out here, Mr. Garret,” I managed. “You have a lovely home.”
“Thank you, but please call me Howard.” He gave my hand a firm squeeze. “May I call you Janet?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
I tensed up. What should I ask for? Did he mean a drink or a drink-drink? Then I thought of a clever way out. “What do you have?”
He smiled. “Quite a variety, actually.” He went to a large globe near his desk. He rolled back the top of the globe, revealing a fully stocked bar. “Would you like a glass of wine? Beer? Or something a bit harder?”