Impregnating a Trophy Wife Ch. 01

I wanted to tell you about the most intense sexual experience I have ever had. Even though my behavior was appalling and reprehensible and I do feel guilty about what happened, it still makes me hard just thinking about it.

I was eighteen years old and studying at the University of East Anglia in Norwich. I was cycling home from my lectures one evening. It was early summer and still light outside. I hadn't been able to get a room in the Halls of Residence, so I was heading south, out of the city, towards the village where I shared a cottage with three other male students.

I was freewheeling down a short hill on a quiet road about a mile from home. Ahead, a huge black and silver Range Rover started to emerge from the driveway of a big house to my left. I caught a glimpse of a blond woman behind the wheel.

I was sure that she had seen me, but then her car lurched forward directly into my path.

It all happened so quickly, I jammed on my breaks, but I was too close, and I was going too fast. I rammed into the front wheel arch of her car, was catapulted over my handlebars, somersaulted across the bonnet, and ended up on my back on the road other side.

I just lay there for several seconds my heart pounding, trying to get over the shock and making sure that nothing was broken. Thankfully the rucksack that I was wearing, containing my books and regular cloths, had softened the blow when I landed on my back.

The next thing I knew was that a woman was kneeling beside me. "Oh god! I'm so sorry. Are you hurt?"

"I think I'm OK," I said eventually as I slowly sat up. I was young and fit, and I played rugby, so was used to taking a hard knock or two.

"This is going to ache tomorrow." I muttered as she helped me to my feet. I was starting to notice how pretty her face was. Her hands were soft and manicured and she smelled of expensive perfume.

"I'm so sorry, I just didn't see you." She explained. I could tell that she had one of those 'extra strong' mint sweets in her mouth. This seemed out of place somehow, but I quickly forgot about it.

My knee hurt but it wasn't too bad, I was more worried about my bike. I limped around to the other side of the car and picked it up. The handlebars were twisted to one side, no longer in alignment with the front wheel.

"Oh no, your cycle's all twisted!" she exclaimed. "Is it broken?"

"No, it looks worse than it is." I reassured her. It was just a cheap second-hand bicycle and It only took a few seconds to fix. I anchored the front wheel between my legs and twisted the handlebars back into alignment. "There, good as new."

I was happy to see that she looked quite impressed by my bicycle fixing skills. Then she looked down and saw my knee "Oh no, you're bleeding!"

I looked down as well. My knee was cut and there was a little stream of blood running down my shin. I was surprised that I hadn't noticed it until now. Still, it was just a graze. I must have somehow hit it when I flew over my handlebars.

"Please come into the house, I'll put a plaster on it," said the woman.

"You had better move your car first," I suggested. The Range Rover was still where, she had left it, sticking half-out into the road.

As she got back into her car, I finally got a good look at her. She was very attractive woman, petite, slim, blue eyes, her blond hair tied back in a cute ponytail. I reckoned that she was probably in her late twenties or early thirties. She looked like the kind of woman who she spent her days at the gym and the beautician.

She was wearing a matching jacket and short skirt that looked like it was designed by Chanel. Not flashy, well-fitting, and obviously very expensive. She was a very classy looking woman in her prime. Probably the 'trophy wife' of some rich business executive.

As she, rather clumsily, reversed her car back onto her driveway, I started to wonder how on earth she hadn't seen me when she pulled out? My over-protective parents had insisted that I had front and back lights on my bike and the same on my helmet. I knew that I had turned them all on before I started my journey. Also, I'm 6'4" tall and was dressed in fluorescent yellow cycling gear. How the hell hadn't she seen me?

She eventually parked up and guided me to her large and impressive Georgian style house. I left my bike and my rucksack propped up against one of the columns that flanked the front door and went inside.

I waited inside her very large designer kitchen, while she hurried upstairs to get a plaster for me. I took off my helmet; it looked OK, the lights on the front and back were still working and the video camera on top didn't look broken. I would have to view what it had recorded when I got home.

She returned with a medical kit and knelt in front of me. She dabbed at the wound with cotton wool and disinfectant to clean it. It stung, but I tried to act brave about it.

I rather enjoyed looking down at her. It was nice having a very pretty woman kneeling in an almost submissive position. She had a big platinum wedding ring on her finger, so she was married.

Standing above her, I could just see past her expensive pearl necklace and down the top of her blouse. I could see the top of her bra and make out the soft mounds of her breasts. Not too big and not too small, just about perfect.

She seemed like a nice person, and she was clearly very remorseful to have knocked me off my bike. It could have been a lot worse, but apart from a graze and a few bruises I was OK. I decided that I would 'chalk this one down to experience', I wouldn't bother getting the police involved or demanding compensation from her.

As she concentrated on tending to my injury, her pretty face was level with my crotch. I idly fantasized about how it would feel to have my penis in her hot mouth. Being eighteen it took almost nothing to get me hard and I felt my cock beginning to stir. Thankfully it was concealed under my padded cycling shorts. But I quickly looked away from her and tried to think of something else.

I looked around the kitchen and I could see that she had recently been preparing a meal; on the kitchen table there was an open recipe book and a chopping board with discarded onion skins on it. Then I noticed at several large empty bottles of tonic water and the empty bottle of gin on the table as well. I remembered her erratic driving and, thinking back, her speech that alternated between slightly slurred and too carefully pronounced.

I looked back down at her; she must have finished her mint and now I caught a waft of alcohol from her breath.

"Have you been drinking?" I asked.

She froze, looking up at me guiltily, now I knew for sure.

"You have haven't you! You're over the limit!" I was suddenly furious. "I can't believe this; you could have killed me! If I had been cycling down that hill a second earlier, I would have gone under that massive fucking tank that you drive! A second later and my head would have gone through the side window, and I'd have ended up in your lap!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you." Her slurred speech was more obvious now. As I had seen through her pretense, she stopped trying to act sober. She really was quite inebriated.

"You didn't see me because you were drunk and not paying attention!"

Her big blue eyes welled up with tears and her drunken sob story and feeble excuses simply flooded out of her: She had only got drunk that afternoon because she was upset; She had been making her husband a special anniversary dinner, but he had called her saying that he had to work late in London and was staying overnight at their apartment there. She worried that he was having an affair with his secretary. He spent all his time in London. She wanted to have a baby, but he didn't seem to want to make love to her anymore. She was only driving a short distance to the local supermarket to get another bottle of gin and thought she it would be OK.

I stood there listening as she overshared her life's woes, completely unmoved.

"You could have drunk something else." I said pointing at the large, well-stocked wine fridge the other side of the kitchen, "or you could have fucking walked to the supermarket, its only about half a mile. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Why are you being so mean to me?" she asked, clearly not used to being shouted at.

"Mean to you? You could have fucking killed me you stupid cow." I pulled my mobile phone out of the back of my cycling jacket and started to dial the police.

"Please don't, I'll lose my license."

"Good! That's exactly what you deserve."

"I'm not a bad person, I was wrong, I made a mistake, but I won't do it again I promise. Please don't!" she begged.

"I'm going to call the police. There is a camera on my helmet, it will have recorded everything."

I'm a tall, strong guy and I was furious, she looked a little scared and retreated from me until she was backed against one of the kitchen cabinets.

"Please don't go to the police, I can give you money?" She looked up at me with her big pleading eyes. She was clearly used to getting her way with a little flirting or a flash of cash, but I was angry.

"You nearly killed me!" I growled.

"Please, I'll do anything."

Those last few words completely stopped me in my tracks. After the accident my blood was full of adrenaline, primed for 'fight or flight'. Now that the danger had passed, my body seemed primed for a third word starting with 'F'; I really wanted to fuck. I really wanted to fuck this silly little bitch.

I wanted to make sure that I had understood her. "You'll do what I tell you? Anything?"

"Please! Just tell me what you want." she said looking flustered.

"All night?" I added.

Now she looked a little confused, as if her gin-befuddled brain was not really registering what I was saying "Yes, I'll do whatever you want. Just please don't call the police."

So far as I was concerned, she had basically agreed to let me fuck her. I felt so horny that I could hardly breath.

I didn't want to give her any time to change her mind and I felt that this kitchen was as good a place as any. I acted quickly to claim my prize.

She gave a surprised yelp as I grabbed her by her hips, lifted her up and plonked her down onto the edge of the kitchen counter.

She seemed too shocked and drunk to resist as I grabbed her shapely legs behind each knee, spread them and forced them up and apart, pinning them up almost to her armpits.

Now she was semi-reclining with her head and shoulders pressed against the cupboard behind her, her bottom perched on the edge of the kitchen counter and her skirt had ridden all the way up to her waist.

I kept her legs spread wide, so her crotch was exposed to my gaze. She was dressed for her planned romantic evening with her husband; under her skirt she had lacy white panties, stockings, and suspenders. So cute and so inviting.

"What are you doing?" She looked up at me still unsure as to what was going on. A smile flickered across her lips. Maybe she thought that I was just joking, but then she saw my expression and she looked a little scared.

There could only really be one reason that I would have placed her into that position. That, along with the very obvious tenting of my cycle shorts. She surely could not be in any doubt; I wanted to fuck her.

I could almost see her drunken brain desperately trying to figure a way out of this. However even she must have realized that her options were limited.

"Do you have a condom?" she eventually ventured.

"No." This was a lie; I had three in my wallet, but I wanted the full 'trophy wife' experience, I wanted to enjoy her without a barrier of latex or rubber between us and, to be honest, I desperately wanted to cum inside of her.

"I could pleasure you with my mouth?" she slurred. She really was rather tipsy.

"No! I want go all the way." I replied. A blowjob was tempting, but I wanted more.

"We've been trying for a baby, and I took a test this morning; I'm ovulating. It's not safe." She appeared to think that this information might stop me.

"I don't care."

She looked dismayed by my response. She was starting to look a bit desperate now.

I didn't want her to find a reason to back out, so decided to move things along. I let go of her beautiful stocking-clad legs to free up my hands. I was pleased to see her keep both of her legs in position all by herself. I'm sure that regular yoga sessions had left her toned and very flexible.

She gave a little gasp when I slid my fingers over her lace panties, feeling the outline of her sex. I slipped a finger inside the gusset and firmly pulled the material to one side.

"You shouldn't do that!" she moaned and tried to cover herself.

I quickly pushed her hand away. She had the most beautiful looking pussy I had ever seen. She had just a neatly trimmed 'landing strip' of hair above her slit but the rest of her was pink and hairless. No doubt she paid to be professionally waxed and her skin bleached. Her pussy lips were plump and juicy looking, and they had a warm rosy flush.

"Oh god! What are you doing?" She gasped as my finger slid up and down her slit. Her gin-soaked brain was clearly having difficulty processing how events had gone this far this quickly.

My exploring fingers were making this lovely woman wriggle and squirm, and I was encouraged that she wasn't pushing me away.

I cupped her quivering little pussy. It was hot to the touch almost like a radiator. I slipped a finger a little way into her vagina, and it came back out wet and slippery from her juices.

"Please don't make me!" her face was flushed. She looked embarrassed; we both knew that her pussy was more than ready to be fucked, even though I had barely touched her.

She looked so sexy, fully clothed but with her pussy exposed and vulnerable, just waiting for me to enjoy.

"Do what I want, or I will go to the police!" I warned.

"Oh god!" she moaned "You nasty young man!"

I just smirked at her response; we didn't have that big an age difference. Also, I had just realized that I was about to fuck a beautiful woman and I didn't even know her name. She didn't know mine either. Probably for the best.

I grabbed the front of my cycling shorts and yanked them down. She watched horrified as my cock sprang out, stiff as a post and fully engorged. I'm reasonably endowed and, with this beautiful woman there for the taking, my penis had never felt so hard.

"Oh god! It's big," she whimpered.

I took that as a complement. I don't think that she meant it to be. She was staring at my cock like it was a big nasty snake about to bite her.

She wriggled and squirmed even more when I rubbed it's big purple head against her.

"It's touching me!" she moaned. I have to say that I was rather enjoying her drunken commentary on what was happening.

I eased the head of my cock up and down her slit several times, parting her pussy lips, and making her gasp each time it touched her clitoris and whimper each time it slid past her tight wet hole.

After I had played with her for a while, I placed myself at the entrance to her vagina and let it rest it there. I gripped her under both knees to keep her in place and then, with gentle pressure, I started to slowly ease my way inside.

"It's going up me! You're really doing it!" She looked genuinely surprised that I was actually starting to fuck her. Maybe up until now she had hoped that I wouldn't go through with it, or that she would be able to wheedle out of our agreement before it went this far?

"Please don't cum inside of me!" she looked up imploringly.

"Don't worry, I'll be careful." I replied, and this seemed to reassure her.

This was another lie. In reality, I had already decided that I was going to empty my balls inside of her. I didn't have the slightest intention of pulling out. I was angry at her; her reckless drunk driving could have killed me. Also, telling me that she was ovulating; instead of warning me off, had triggered some base primal drive within me. I wanted to impregnate her, I wanted to fill her womb with my hot cum. However, for now, I needed to keep her submissive and compliant so that I could fully enjoy her. She would obviously find out that I had lied, but only after it was too late.

As my cock continued its slow invasion of her body, her chest heaved, and she breathed in little gasps. She looked so beautiful and vulnerable. It felt also felt incredible; She was very hot and very tight. She was as hot as an oven and her vagina gripped me like that of teenage girl's. No doubt she kept her pussy in tip-top condition for her wealthy husband, with daily pelvic floor exercises to stay nice and tight.

In her spreadeagled position, with her knees pushed back to her shoulders, she was completely open to me. I took my time sliding my whole length into her hot, tight, slippery vagina.

"It's all the way up me!" She wailed as my pubic bone eventually bumped against her vulva. I could feel my cock pushing against her cervix and my balls were resting against her pert little bottom.

"I'm a married lady," she complained. "You shouldn't make me do this!"

"Well, I won't tell your husband if you don't." I gasped, enjoying the glorious feeling of my cock sheathed inside her up to the hilt.

"You're really horrid!" she pouted. She seemed to be reverting into the persona of a sulky little girl.

I didn't care what she thought about me. I slowly pulled out, admiring my wet shaft emerging from her hot little hole. She looked down at it too, watching in disbelief as my big cock eased back out of her stretched pussy.

When I was almost all the way out, I slammed it back in hard, all the way to the hilt. She clutched at me gasping and moaning.

I kept going, slowly withdrawing, and then slamming back inside her. I could see that I was really turning her on. I loved the way she bit her lip and groaned each time I thrust into her.

I kept this up for a while, but her pussy felt too good. I knew I wasn't going to last more than a few minutes. So I stopped toying with her, and I began to fuck her in earnest.

She looked so cute impaled on my cock, gasping, moaning, and writhing. Her pert tits jiggled under her blouse. Her pussy made little squelching noises as I hammered into her, and my shaft and balls were wet from her juices.

My cock was so hard and my thrusts so powerful, that I was lifting her little bottom off the kitchen counter each time I rammed home. She had to hold onto me to stay upright. Her dainty hands on my shoulders almost felt intimate.

I had put it off as long as I could, but now I felt my orgasm approaching; pressure building up in my balls and behind my cock.

I reached the 'point of no return'. This was it! I felt a wicked thrill; anticipating what I was about to do to her.

"Take it!" I snarled as I slammed into her one last time as hard and deep as I could. I pushed the head of my penis right up against the entrance to her womb and held it there.

"What are you...?" Then she must have felt my cock twitch violently and the first thick jet of my hot cum coat her insides.

"No! Oh god! No!" She looked up at me with horror in her lovely big blue eyes. She tried to push me away, but I held myself firmly in place, my penis bucking and spurting deep inside of her.

"I can feel it going in!" She wailed, but suddenly she wasn't pushing me away, instead she was pulling me close. Her whole-body shook and writhed, and her pussy pulsed around my cock as she climaxed. She may not have wanted it to happen, but the feeling my hot cum spurting inside her had clearly sent her over the edge.

I hadn't had sex or even had a wank for a couple of weeks, and I shot a huge load into her. It seemed to go on for ages, I just kept pumping great hot globs of my semen into her fertile womb.

It was the most intense climax that I had ever had, I had to lean against her for several minutes before my heart stopped pounding in my ears. Both of us gasping and holding each other, my cock still buried into her up to the hilt.