My Fertile Secret Ch. 02

I picture my dear husband in the corner. He stands aghast at the sight of his pregnant wife being pounded from behind by someone who's more of a man in every way than he could ever hope to be. He watches helplessly as the man who made his pregnant wife's belly swell now fucks and fills her again, all while stroking his comparatively unimpressive hard-on.

I can feel the pleasure building once again between my thighs, and I rub my clit a little harder and faster. I'm panting into the cushion, my hot breath blowing back in my face as I focus on the even hotter image in my head. My rapist is mounting me like an animal, fucking me like the horny, shameless bitch that I am. I deserve to be fucked and filled and bred like the bad girl and worse wife that I am. I deserve to be raped again.

I grit my teeth as the climax hits me, the sound of pleasure escaping between my lips. A little squirt of sexual juices escapes from my other lips as I cum all over my fingers, and I sigh with satisfaction. Sex with my husband is alright at the best of times, but honestly, I do a far better job with my fingers and a toy than he does.

I roll back into a sideways lying position on the couch, pulling my sweatpants back up before wiping my fingers dry on the fabric. My daughters will be home from school in a little over an hour. Until then, I can lie down and rest.

I look up at the big windows of the front room and bolt upright in fright.

A figure clad in dark clothing quickly disappears from view before I can get a good look at his face. He was tall and looked pretty muscular under his dark T-shirt, with light skin and thick arms, but that's all I was able to see of him.

I'm suddenly no longer in the mood to take a nap. I stand up and hurry as fast as my pregnant belly will allow and make sure the front door is locked and bolted. Then I return to the front room and peer through the window to see if I can catch a glimpse of the peeping tom. He's nowhere to be seen, but there's no doubt he was watching me masturbate.

I close the curtains and take a seat, fidgeting fretfully as I wonder if I should call the police, or maybe the neighbors in case they'd seen the same guy doing the same thing. I thought better of it, since I hadn't actually seen his face and had no evidence that he was peeping on me.

I also have a disconcerting feeling deep down in my gut that I know exactly who that was. It couldn't have been a coincidence, could it? I'd stood out on the front porch every morning for the first few months of my pregnancy watching to see if he would return. I never saw him, but that doesn't mean he hasn't been watching me the whole time.

I have no doubt that was him.

To be continued...