Breeding the Help Ch. 03

I was grateful to wash off the travel grime and dried love juices encrusted on my shaft, pubes, thighs, and abs. I looked down at my big semi-hard cock and sighed. I considered pounding one out in the shower just so I could go through the school day with my dick mostly tamed, but after I pumped it a few times with soap for lube, it wasn't doing it for me. I'd just have to monk it, you know, like Shaolin, Kung-Fu tranquil thoughts and shit. Or at least baggier pants to hide my fucking boner.

I got into my black Panthers polo and some tan cargo pants, along with my Airwalks, Walkman headset around my neck. I wished like hell that this wasn't Monday and I didn't have to drag my ass to school after IASAS as I trudged down the stairs.

In the dining room, my parents were at the breakfast table again, facing off like two hateful, ideologically opposed superpowers in absolute silence.

"Hey Champ," Dad said, deep in his newspaper again. "How was practice?"

"Championship," I corrected him, checking around for Maria. My mother was staring off into space, sipping her coffee, either deep in thought or gripped by another bout of paranoid schizophrenia.

"I won the 100 meter," I said proudly, lifting the medal I held down at my side, "Got silver in the 200."

That actually got my father to lower his Bangkok Post and my mom to snap out of her morning psychosis.

"Oh, well, isn't that something!" Mother smiled, a rare, warm thing. "Very well done, Carl, I'm sure the Foundation mothers will love to hear about this."

"Y'know, I was quite the swimmer back when I was your age," Dad mused, holding out his hand to inspect the gold disk. "Had a race car body like you too. I won the city, all the way up to the state level, and I got so many trophies that Pop-Pop --"

"--that Pop-Pop turned all your trophies into lamps, yeah you told me," I finished for him, unhappy that Dad had to make this into something all about him, as usual. I took the medal back and put it away with a dejected frown.

My mother, unable to control her Machiavellian instincts, brusquely pushed my father's folksy commentary aside and launched into another avenue of meddling in my future: the possibility of a sports scholarship offsetting my vastly improved but still less-than-stellar GPA. I weathered her incessant scheming as I hunched over and tried to eat my breakfast.

"Ruth, just give it a rest," Dad eventually sighed from behind his paper. "It's not like he's ever going to be an Olympic sprinter, dear."

"And you would know that how? " Mother spat back at him, less defending me than attacking him for interfering. "Don't be bitter because of the tendinitis that ended your swimming dreams and transformed you into the bloviating, corpulent philanderer you are today!"

"Are you drunk again, Ruth?" Dad began, anger creeping into his voice. "Are you --"

As the two of them started to shout at each other, I numbly secured my earphones over my skull and thumbed my Walkman's volume to drown out their latest fight.

'...Day after day (Your home life's a wreck)

The powers that be just breathe down your neck

You get no respect (You get no relief)

You gotta speak up and yell out your piece...'

I didn't eat much as my parents screamed at each other across the table, silently excusing myself to retreat into the kitchen as their marital disintegration reached fever pitch. Maria was there, bustling around the kitchen. She'd since changed into a pale yellow maternity dress and a floral-patterned apron, probably after serving my mother at the crack of dawn. Her long black hair was still managed into that Pinay housekeeper topknot. I pulled down my earphones and stopped the track as I stood there watching her. She was humming some melodic tune I didn't know to our offspring. Maria didn't notice me at first, sauntering around in slippers with her large belly protruding against the apron, a hand resting atop. The mid-thigh length dress had a scoop neck, accentuating her full, milk-filled Asian breasts and her long, slender brown neck. Her skin was so rich, like brown coffee creamer.

And fuuuuck her belly looked so fucking big and lewd as she waddled. So obscene. So gravid and distended under that apron, like a true rural Asian wife.

I felt my cock bulge and grow with lust.

Maria was moving a lot slower now, more deliberately as she transferred dirty dishes to the sink. Her swollen pregnancy was pressing down against the counter and stretching out the apron, so big and round and bloated. Her back turned to me as she cleaned the dishes, I stared at the vague impression of her tight little Filipina bubble butt under the dress. My dick started throbbing to full hardness at the sight of her tantalizingly expecting body.

I couldn't stand it anymore. Temporary insanity blanked out my better judgment as my stupid, insatiable lizard brain asserted control and my basest instincts took over. I stalked up to Maria and, like the first time, ground my big white cock insistently into her ass, my hands firm and dominant on her hips.

"Carl!" she gasped, trying to twist away, but I was far too strong and she was way too pregnant. Her resistance turned into a quiet squirm. My parents were right in the next room, still fighting. Maria was terrified.

"Please, noo...please, Carl," she whined softly. "Tonight! Tonight!"

"Nnnghhhh," I grunted, grinding harder; deeper -- the friction against my long shaft and cockhead so delicious.

"Ahhh, no...Carl...!" my Mare hissed, "...not NOW!"

My parents were still screaming in the dining room, drowning out my heavy breathing and her soft protests. I started hiking up her dress from the back as I pinned her against the kitchen counter. Plates clattered as she braced herself on her hands and elbows.

"Oh, no..." she whispered, closing her eyes, biting her lip, "No, no, nouuuuuu..."

I reached under my mare's dress and roughly felt the soaked crotch of her panties covering her engorged sex. I yanked them down and worked my belt buckle and fly with one hand, the other holding her firm. I felt that crazy thrill again of being on the knife's edge of being caught. My world was so unreal and fucked up -- my parents relationship imploding, me impregnating our housekeeper and falling in love with her. This was the only thing that made me happy, that made sense.

Maria gasped as I roughly spread her legs apart to accommodate me with my knees and penetrated the wetness of her hairy, needy Asian cunt with the throbbing mushroom head of my huge white shaft.

"NnnnnNNN!" Maria let out a strangled moan, trying to be quiet, her eyes watering as she looked back at me helplessly, like I was about to ruin everything. "Ahhhh, Carl...please...they find us..."

I panted in her ear as I leaned in. "Just a lil' bit Maria...just be quiet..."

"Noooo..." Maria shook her head, her mouth open, whimpering softly as I fed my huge, white, teenage cock deeper into her pregnant Filipina pussy. Her ass was so smooth and tight, her hips flared out perfectly from her petite body to support her gravid womb.

"Carl, no, no, no...ahhh...not here..." Maria whispered, "Not here, please..."

"Mmm," I groaned, grabbing her hips firmly and pumping her pussy. Her 6-month pregnant belly wobbled deliciously from the motion, the dress hiking up over her ass, panties around her thighs, her big, round tits straining with her long, thick nipples digging against the fabric.

"Carl, stop...nnnNNNgh!" she mewled. "Please, stooop...you need stoooohhhp...!" she begged.

"Nnnnnnnnnghhh," I growled, pumping her hard, fucking her. I was already getting close. The danger of being caught, the insanity of doing it with my parents fighting just outside the kitchen, it was such wicked, filthy pleasure.

I heard glass break in the other room as the fight between my parents intensified.

"Haaa...aaahhh...hnnnngh!" she groaned and squirmed, body trembling, bump heaving as it pressed and rubbed up against the counter. She rolled her head back, gritting her teeth as she tried to stay quiet amidst all the pleasure I was giving her. I reached to the neckline of her dress and pulled it down with a tearing sound of fabric at the seams to let her right breast free. It flopped out full and engorged, dark brown teat stiff and fat, dripping milk onto the dishes in the sink, the countertop, and the apron covering her bump as it swayed. I reached under her and groped her full tit, squeezing her breast and nipple to spurt out more of the creamy liquid as I pounded her from behind.

"Ohhh...nnnNNGH! CARL!!" Maria wailed softly, biting her lip to keep from screaming, her eyes squeezed shut. She started panting, her pussy quivering as I continued to fuck her. Her pregnant, Filipina cunt was so tight and hot.

"Unnngh, fuck!" I snarled, pushing her down on the counter, pinning her, pounding her as I mauled her milky brown breast. Her furry mare pussy clenched around me as she orgasmed hard, her leaking tits swaying, glossy black hair starting to come out of her tied-up knot.

I groaned and came like a geyser inside her, like a fucking racehorse. We leaned there heavily against each other, panting, the sound of our harsh breathing filling the air. Maria's pregnant belly was pressed into the countertop, the hem of her dress still up over her wide hips, her soaked, cum-dripping pussy exposed, panties tangled around her thighs. My cock was still embedded deep inside her, pulsing now and again as she weakly spasmed around my huge length.

I could hear my parents finally winding down. Sanity prevailed as the heavy fog of desire cleared and I quickly pulled out with a gush of seed.

Maria let out a deep wracking sigh and started to straighten her dress, putting her hanging, naked breast back inside and shimmying up her panties. Her eyes were distant, gaze lowered as I pulled up my pants and stuffed myself back in. My Filipina slut looked exhausted and beaten down, but still so hot, so pregnant, so full of my seed. Her left breast had a wet spot where she'd lactated through her dress, sweat beaded on her brow and cheeks. Our maid stared at me with hot eyes brimming of shame, even betrayal, along with the undeniable heat of quiet, simmering desire.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry," I murmured as the haze of sexual frenzy lifted, realizing I'd just been a fucking asshole to her. "I really can't help it...I just missed you so bad..."

Maria frowned deeply, her face flushed, her breath hot. She glared at me with conflicting emotion, her whisper a sharp edge. "You no do again, you pro-mise?"

"Yeah, I promise," I winced quietly. "Please don't be mad."

Maria frowned even more. She was clearly pissed, way more than earlier, but she somehow still loved me, even if I had betrayed her trust by fucking her so brazenly, so brutally.

"You a man, my man but sometime you still like boy. Kailangan mong lumaki, ah? "

"I know," I said, my face burning, voice low.

"Carl, you go now. Go school."

She leaned in close and gave me a kiss, a passionate one, full of tongue. I eagerly reciprocated, loving the feel of her big, hard belly pressing into me.

"MARIA!" my mother called shrilly, her voice traveling. "Maria are you deaf? I need you to get your disgusting pregnant ass out here and help clean up this glass before I step on it!"

My mother stormed into the kitchen just a few seconds after we wrenched away from one another. Mom's eyes were wild, hair mussed, face still red. "What is taking you so long?" she snapped at Maria.

Maria glanced at me, then down at the floor. "Moment, Madaam. Sorry, moment."

Mother gave us a strange, lingering look for a few long, uncomfortable seconds, but then moved on from whatever thought process she had with an insistent huff.

"Well, hurry up!" she said through her teeth. "And you, stupid boy, go to school."

I nodded detachedly. My mother stormed off and our housekeeper went to fetch the broom and dustpan, waddling a little bowlegged from our rough, risky fuck. She kissed my cheek before she followed in her employer's wake, stiffening at the threshold to the door as a thick trickle of cum oozed down her inner thigh and down the side of her calf.

I put my earphones back on and went to grab my backpack. Ready to ride the Barge of the Dead and rejoin all the other lost souls at my preppy-ass international high school.

'...So back off your rules, back off the jive

'Cause I'm sick of not living to stay alive

Leave me alone, askin' a lot

I don't wanna be controlled

That's all I waaant

That's all I waaaaaaaaant

Ya-ya-ya-ya-ya!'

****

As the oppressive heat and suffocating humidity of the depths of the dry season rolled in, the only relief in sight was Songkran, the crazy-ass Thai water festival. Maria was well into the 6th month of her pregnancy when school was let out for the April holiday. Mother, thankfully, went on a wellness retreat to Chiang Mai with the other Foundation members. Dad was erratic, gone all day for work, usually staying at the office late. He'd come back home for dinner after I'd already finished or not at all.

I felt like I could finally breathe now that I was free to be with Maria again. On the first day of the break, we escaped the terrible heat and into the thronged masses celebrating in the streets with Super Soakers, buckets, hoses, and anything else that could hold water -- drenching each other with joyous abandon. We arrived at the edge of Silom Road on a Tuk Tuk, where the thoroughfare was closed to traffic. The road was jam packed with colorful Thai revelers; old, sun-baked asphalt absolutely drenched underfoot. The inescapable Ram Wong Wan Songkran blasted from somewhere, a lively, bizarre melody with a blend of traditional piping Thai instruments and modern pop.

"Wan-nii bpen wan song-graan

num saao chaao-baan berk-baan jai gan jing eoi

dtawn-chaao tam bun, tum-bun dtak baad

Suk jai nai took krao krao..."

Armed with a big plastic CPS 2000, I was ready to battle in my aviator sunglasses, swimming trunks, Tupac Stop the Violence tank top, and flip flops. Maria had on my New York Knicks jersey top that pulled tight over her pregnant bump and breasts but still went down past her cute ass and black swimsuit bottom like a dress. She had her hair pulled back into a pair of braids under a black baseball cap, holding a little bo sang parasol I borrowed from my mother's closet.

As soon as we got out of the Tuk Tuk, we were accosted by a trio of boisterous older Thai women in cheap, colorful chut thai sarongs, cackling with holiday glee as they smeared white powdery din sor pong paste over our cheeks and foreheads.

"Sawadee Pee Mai! " they chorused.

Maria, being heavily pregnant, had this invisible shield around her -- getting expectant mothers wet, along with monks and babies was strictly forbidden. My farang ass was fair game though, so I jumped into the fray while Maria watched from the sidelines, laughing and giggling, her hand petting her belly. The festival had this visceral carnival atmosphere where people were laughing, singing and dancing, all while water was being thrown and sprayed everywhere. I got totally drenched, but it was a relief in the heat that beat down incessantly over our heads. It was so colorful and crazy. So vibrant and strange and alive.

After I'd had my fill I was sopping wet. We headed down the road a bit, stopping at the edge of the covered stalls where we found a spot to watch. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of people filling Silom Road with chaos. It was a joyfully post-apocalyptic National Geographic-style acid trip. Aqua's ubiquitous "Barbie Girl" was thumping while a couple of crazy motherfuckers were doing a water battle with hoses that they'd hooked up to fire hydrants, making the crowd scream in delight.

Maria was beaming, her cheeks flushed, tan Pinay skin radiant as she lightly perspired and sipped from an ice-cold plastic baggie filled with Fanta.

"This rocks!" I laughed, wringing out my shirt. "I can't believe I never did this down here before."

"Thai love party, ah?" Maria smiled. "Even Buddha! Water festival is for all Thai people have fun and be happy, for poor people, too."

I bought us some ice cream and we watched the spectacle. Magnums, of course. I loved that rich Belgian chocolate and vanilla not just because it was so good, but because it was the most easily identifiable ice cream they sold besides the Cornettos. There were some seriously weird frozen treats in those refrigerated chests, like Potong sweet corn ice popsicles and the freaking durian ones.

The crowd suddenly started clapping, a beat picking up. Through the throng, a massive group of drummers emerged, dressed in traditional pha nung and pounding their skins to the same rhythm, making their way through the sea of people who were chanting and cheering. Maria linked her fingers with mine as we watched and enjoyed our ice cream. I felt a sudden rush of pride to have this beautiful, pregnant Asian woman standing by my side, a white kid with his sexy brown lover. It made me feel strong and confident out in public. Way different than the worthless loser I felt like before I hooked up with Maria.

After the parade of drums was done, we started walking. The streets were packed, so it was slow going; it stank of body odor, sweat, and water vapor. My wife had to follow in my wake as I made a path so no one bumped into her. At a busy food stall, I bought some sweet sticky rice and mangoes for my Filipina, which she happily ate while I went for some juicy chicken satay skewers.

Maria wanted to go to the Silom temple for a blessing, for us and our children. While Christian, she explained that she believed in the spirits, good and bad. That's why she kept our villa's spirit house clean with fresh offerings and gave the monks rice when they came around the compound to beg. Fiercely Catholic or no, Maria wanted our babies to have good luck.

The wat was a bustling, frenzied affair, its courtyard floor covered in water, incense burning in every corner. Monks were leading chants and rituals. Local Thais were everywhere offering wai and prayers, giving donations and receiving blessings -- it was seriously packed. The pungent tang of incense filled the air, smoking in coils rising from hundreds of joss sticks. A massive golden statue of Buddha within the wat gazed out from its cloistered splendor with an impassive smile.

Maria found a quieter corner in the temple courtyard where a small shrine was adorned with marigold garlands and bowls filled with clear, scented water. I stood nearby, watching while she knelt.

Soon, a group of venerable monks in faded orange and brown robes, faces creased and serene, gathered around the shrine. They chanted sonorous prayers, their deep, droning voices resonating across the courtyard. The head monk dipped a fragrant sprig of jasmine into the bowl of blessed water and began to sprinkle it over a gold leaf Buddha image.

The holy man doused the sprig again and gently sprinkled the holy water over Maria's head and then onto her rounded belly. She closed her eyes, hands clasped in a high wai, a contented smile on her dark lips. The old monk intoned a calming blessing as he worked. It was crazy spiritual moment, like all the other people faded into background noise. Even I felt a little moved.

When it was over, we made our way to the front gate of the wat. More monks were outside, sitting cross-legged on a red bamboo mat. Each had a large brass bowl in front of them. As people passed by, they offered wai, coins, or food and placed them in the bowl.

"What should I give these guys?" I asked Maria out of the corner of my mouth.

"Rice," Maria murmured back, her hand on my arm. "Money good too. Very good."