Need a Little Company Ch. 11

Marcy dropped her blouse on top of her sweater then briskly removed her bra and cast it upon the same pile, all the while studying Paul's face for a clue about his impressions.

Seeing Marcy's pregnancy tits - both of them - au natural was an even bigger thrill for Paul than the preview she'd just given him. He might've gotten to see the entire breast before, but with its weight still partially resting in the bra it's shape had been distorted. Only now, with it free to rest in its natural position could Paul properly appreciate how marvellous it and its sister truly were.

No boobs so large, at least no natural boobs, could ever possibly be as perfectly pert as Marcy's pre-pregnancy tits. The bulk had definitely fallen south giving her a far more defined underboob crease. But the new curvature of her ripened tits was ideal to a discerning eye like Paul's. Marcy's body didn't seem to be fighting gravity so much as manipulating it to sculpt her newfound voluptuousness into the sexiest shape possible.

Paul exhaled a deep breath. "Damn! Nice" he exclaimed, seemingly too amazed to be able to express himself any more eloquently.

Marcy beamed at the compliment, delighted that he was pleased with what he saw.

"Thanks," she said.

As she grew more comfortable with the idea of showing them off for him, she couldn't help but notice that Paul's lips were slightly pursed and took it as a subconscious sign that he wanted to suckle on them. She liked that.

After a few seconds of silence, Paul's hands began to fidget. His right hand would edge towards Marcy for a couple of inches, only to quickly recoil for a moment before the whole cycle started over. Marcy easily interpreted the internal struggle Paul was fighting between impulse and courtesy and decided to put him out of his misery.

"Have a feel, if you want," she offered, as casually as if she was telling him he was welcome to bum a soda from her fridge.

"Really?" Paul asked, making eye contact with her for the first time since she'd popped her nipple out of her bra.

"Yeah, go ahead," Marcy shrugged, clearly at ease with the idea of him groping her tits.

A goofy smile crossed Paul's face and he tentatively reached forward until his fingertips brushed across the warm skin of Marcy's right breast. After giving it a slow caress, his digits fanned out in all directions to completely ensnare it. Then he gave it a good squeeze.

He made a soft growling noise, betraying how delighted he was with the way it felt. When he was done testing the breast's suppleness, he lowered his hand to try to lift it from below.

"Wow! It's really heavy now!" he commented.

"I know, right?" Marcy agreed.

"God, it's like lifting a dumbbell!" Paul happily described the sensation. "I better be careful or I might sprain something," he joked.

Marcy laughed.

As Paul continued to amuse himself with a thorough analysis of Marcy's enlarged boobs, Marcy began to think about things; about the situation she currently found herself in. Then just as quickly, she *stopped* thinking and simply seized the moment, much like she had earlier in the alleyway.

"Paul, this might seem kinda weird... although maybe not so much considering your hand is on my tit..." she began awkwardly, "but can I ask you for a favor?"

Paul looked up at her, intrigued. His hand ceased its experimental teasing, though it remained resting upon her breast.

"Well, sure Marcy, I guess so," Paul responded. He was hesitant, as he didn't know what she wanted.

"Would you please fuck me?" she asked bluntly.

Paul's mouth fell agape. His hand retreated from Marcy's breast while the rest of his body tensed up. His eyes were as expressive as words could ever be. "I'm sorry, but did you just say what I think you said?" they asked her in disbelief.

Marcy wore a mask of coolness brilliantly, but inside she was squirming with anxiety. Paul's reaction showed none of the willingness she had hoped for. She may have ruined her luscious coed figure, but was her swollen belly really so ugly that he wouldn't even accept her as a free lunch? Unwilling to let her self-doubt show, she continued.

"I know I'm not quite the great score you've had before. But the thing is that pregnancy's a real bitch of a double-whammy. It makes you horny as hell, but it also hits you with a big wad of man repellent," she complained, softly patting the sides of her belly. "I haven't been able to get a guy in ages and I really need to blow off some steam.

"So, what do you say?"

Marcy waited patiently for Paul's response. The indifferent expression on her face was almost at odds with her keen gaze. Her doe eyes were pleading, but only to the extent where she could maintain her dignity. Even in her current state Marcy was too proud to allow herself to look pathetic, even if it meant she wouldn't get what she wanted.

"Uh, yeah, sure, if you want... Sure!" Paul croaked once he had recovered from the shock of her request.

He tried to play it casual, but Marcy could tell how overwhelmed Paul was. But she couldn't tell whether he was accepting her offer because he genuinely wanted to screw her, or if he was simply biting the bullet to be polite. For the moment, Marcy didn't care all that much about how interested Paul was. She was going to get laid, and that was something to cheer about!

"Great!" she acknowledged with a warm smile. "Well... come this way, I guess. I'll show you to the bedroom." As she turned around, she cringed a little at how cheesy that sentence sounded; like she was giving him a guided tour of her home. "I've been hanging around realtors too long," she thought to herself.

As she lumbered deeper into the house Marcy began to worry that she wouldn't hear any footsteps following her; that Paul would change his mind. Fortunately, that didn't happen and she soon heard him following close behind.

Only now did it really sink in that this hook-up was really about to happen. "Oh my God Marcy, you are such an outrageous slut!" she thought in an ecstatic squeal. She felt like a junior high school girl lapping up the details of how scandalously far her best friend had gone with a boy; appalled and delighted all at once. Except this time the scandalous behavior was her own.

It *was* insane. This was her estranged baby daddy - a guy who up until an hour ago never knew she was carrying his child, a guy who she'd hoped never to see, let alone sleep with ever again.

On the other hand, the cat was already out of the bag. She'd just had the awkward "I'm pregnant. It's yours." conversation with Paul that she'd long been dreading. Why shouldn't she get a little fun out of the whole ordeal? After all, he was here; or more importantly, his nice big cock was here, and he was willing enough. So why not?

Besides, the fact that they were misbehaving was what made it so exciting. She felt like she was getting back to her roots: doing something wild and impulsive like she used to do all the time, and briefly recovering her zest for life and all the carnal pleasures it offered.

They came to the end of a short hallway and Marcy opened a door into her modest bedroom. Though there was enough space to move around comfortably, the room was a snug fit for its double bed. If there had been any more furnishings apart from the plain pine dresser along one wall, and the small nightstand on the bed's left-hand side, the room would've probably felt cluttered.

Paul looked on, almost in a daze, as Marcy kicked off her sensible shoes and began to peel her pregnancy pants and finally her panties off. Though it wasn't really a striptease, Paul was enthralled nonetheless. He slowly peeled off his jacket in a poor attempt to camoflage his voyeuristic urges by looking busy.

He got a good look at Marcy's ass. She certainly had some "junk in the trunk" now, but the change was a beautiful one. Like her nipples, Marcy's once-petite butt had lost its cuteness but gained voluptuousness. It was not merely a facetious euphemism to say that there was "more of her to love" from behind now; it was a fact. Paul imagined that he could bury his cock between those two enticing cheeks and lose himself - in the best possible way.

As Marcy turned around, Paul was able to admire the complete naked package. It was a stirring sight. Everything about her exuded raw femininity. Of course, Marcy had always possessed a very feminine figure and manner. But now, with her belly large and fruitful, her breasts mature and rich with her milk and the more voluptuous curvature to her back, that aura of femininity was in overdrive.

Paul's mind told him that he shouldn't really consider the Marcy before him all that attractive; certainly not compared to the slender, pert-breasted Marcy he had lain with in the cabin and motel room. Part of him remembered that the huge belly she was sporting ought to be an uncomfortable sight for him. After all, way lay inside was a life-wrecking bullet that he had only narrowly dodged.

But his mind could not reign in his instinct. The young, swollen, pregnant bombshell before him was without question the most womanly woman he'd ever seen - and therefore the most fuckable woman he'd ever seen.

His organ responded to his impressions of Marcy's new figure faster than he expected. He hadn't even begun to take his shirt off when he felt his cock growing. By the time he'd untied and removed his shoes, he was sporting an impressive tent on his pants.

By now, Marcy was resting comfortably on the side of her bed. Her legs hung over the edge of the mattress, parted in welcome for her guest to sample what lay between them. She literally couldn't wait to feel Paul's hard cock plunge deep into her erogenous folds, so she started without him.

Paul, who hadn't taken his eyes off Marcy for one moment since she propositioned him, watched as she firmly massaged her labia and probed her slit with her middle finger. He had been quick to notice that the thick, chestnut brown landing strip she'd borne on their previous encounters had disappeared completely from her womanhood. Paul liked this pristine, new look. It suited her large belly very well and made her crotch all the more inviting.

Once relieved of his clothing Paul shuffled slowly over towards her. His cock stood resolute at a 90-degree angle to his body, engorged to its limit with hot blood and lust. He stalled for a moment, unable to decide between fucking her or simply standing back and watching this perennial sexual powerhouse play with herself.

There was something deliciously perverse about watching Marcy like this. She hadn't made eye contact with him once since they'd entered the bedroom; hadn't acknowledged Paul in any way, in fact. It was almost like she was having a private moment to herself and Paul was the peeping-tom watching it all without her knowledge.

Marcy's womanhood began to glisten as her finger spread her juices around and Paul knew she wanted his cock inside her.

"How does it feel, Marcy?" he thought to himself as a subtle smirk appeared on his face. "How does it feel to need something so badly and not be able to have it?" he mused, relishing the scant amount of irony in making Marcy wait for him, after 7 agonizing months of being unable to quench the raging desires she had planted in his mind.

But as much as Paul enjoyed the show, it was a poor substitute for the heavenly embrace of Marcy's nether regions. He ached to penetrate her at least as much as she ached to be penetrated.

He advanced upon her, running his hands along her warm thighs and guiding them even further apart so he could fit comfortably between them. Marcy didn't react until she felt his rod brush against her knuckles. Her busy hand retreated from her sex, leaving the way clear for Paul to enter her.

The heat of her pussy washed through Paul like a drug, releasing tension all over his body that he hadn't even been aware of until then. He plunged deeper and deeper into her slick hollow. The further he went, the more he wanted. When he could go no further, he lingered for a moment. He had all but driven himself crazy dwelling on the memory of Marcy's sex and longshot fantasies of experiencing it one more time. Now that he was finally here, he could hardly bring himself to pull out, not even to strike up a coital rhythm.

But instinct kicked in soon enough and his hips began to move like a locomotive roaring to life. Marcy responded almost immediately with the first of what would be a series of sharp, lusty whimpers. Paul closed his eyes as his neck arched and his head turned skyward. His body ran away without him as he lost himself in the tango of maleness against womanhood; her malleable grasp upon his unrelenting hardness.

He didn't even realize he was pounding her like a jackhammer until he heard her cheering him on.

"Oh, yeah! Fuck yeah! Fuck me! Fuck me, Paul! Fuck me! Fucking plow right through me!" she howled through clenched teeth. The madness in her voice could have whipped a celebate monk into obeying her. For Paul, it was a stirring encouragement. He tightened his grasp on her thighs as he lifted and parted them even more. He pushed himself to throw even more energy into his hips, which were already searing with exhaustion. Marcy's fingers were almost as busy, racing around and around upon her clit in a tease that complemented the penetration to perfection.

Paul's breathing devolved into a pattern of primal grunting, serving as a perfect backing to Marcy's shameless cries of ecstasy. The noise they were making carried up and down the normally peaceful street, shattering its veneer of wholesomeness and probably sending one or two mothers racing to cover the ears of their young children. Neither of them could've cared less.

Paul's vigor suddenly collapsed as Marcy's luscious pussy broke him as it had several times before. He pressed against her as firmly as he could, for cumming was only truly satisfying when it happened deep inside. And cum he did, hard. His load was large and the instinct that propelled it, furious. Six months Paul's cock had been gushing into the empty air and dry socks in Marcy's absence. Six months it had pined for her fine flesh, with only its master's hand to serve as a pathetic substitute. Six months of repression that it intended to have atonement for in these precious few seconds of climax.

It didn't matter that her figure had become so plump, nor that there was no room in her womb for a new offspring. This was still Marcy: the seductress who had given him the greatest pleasures of his life. Seeding her now was a need he couldn't deny and a triumph to accomplish. By the end of it all, Paul's balls felt numb, as if they had been harvested of every last sperm. If that was the case, it was a delightful ache, as if he did have any sperm left, he would prefer it to be in Marcy, also.

Paul's cock continued to shudder inside Marcy for some time after it had been completely milked dry. By this point, Paul himself had virtually no strength. His body began to topple forward until Marcy's belly was practically a fulcrum for his torso to balance upon. When even the dry heaves of his climax had all but subsided, Paul withdrew, leaving the temptress's pussy flooded with a heavy pool of his DNA. He collapsed forward, exhausted, having just enough presence of mind to roll as he fell, so that he wound up beside Marcy on the mattress instead of on top of her.

Marcy's wanton moans continued for some time, as she rode out her own orgasm with some mild masturbation.

Both their bodies were drenched in sweat, their chests heaving frantically up and down as they struggled to catch the breaths. The air around them was a heady fog of body odor mixed with the lusty aromas of male and female sex, and both exhausted partners enjoyed its pungent flavors with every breath.

Some time later, after the heavy panting had faded into silence, but before their breathing had properly calmed down, Marcy spoke in a deadpan voice, "You supposed to be anywhere tonight?"

Paul wasn't expecting the question.

"No," he answered after a brief hesitation.

"Okay," Marcy replied with an odd sense of finality.

"So can we just skip the bullshit and admit that you're gonna spend the night here?" she asked a moment later.

Paul stared at her in shock, thinking he must've misheard. Marcy didn't meet his gaze; she just kept staring at the ceiling.

"It's kinda late; you won't get far before dark," she continued, "and frankly, if you think you'd be up for another round later, so would I."

After a few seconds of stunned silence she looked to him for a response, but the unassuming expression on her face made it seem like she didn't really care what it would be.

Paul was at a loss for words. He knew he should've been used to Marcy's easy-going attitude towards casual sex by now, to say nothing of her ability to segue so quickly from a passionate screw into a conversation about where he was going to spend the night. But it still astounded him.

"Okay, sure," Paul replied softly, attempting to mimic Marcy's cool demeanor, but failing to completely supress a delighted smirk. He may have been 100% spent; but even so, fucking Marcy again was still something he could look forward to.

"If you're sure you don't mind?" he politely clarified.

"Yeah, whatever," Marcy shrugged in a tone that was polite at best.

After a brief pause, she sat up. "Woo!" she sighed excitedly, without even thinking. It was nothing more than a brief misstep in her facade, but it was enough to put a broad grin on Paul's face. Despite her efforts to pretend what had just happened was no big deal, he had evidently rocked her world as much as she had rocked his and it seemed his efforts would be rewarded with a complimentary encore performance later tonight.

As Marcy staggered out of the room, muttering something about needing a shower, Paul closed his eyes, sighed and relaxed.