The Barefoot & Pregnant Stepsister

It had been Greg's move to make, and he made it. I had to put on a little show for him, sure, but it felt like maybe we were on the same page now, having so thoroughly enjoyed each other orally. I hoped things could progress further now.

FINALLY

We fooled around with hands and mouths several times over the next few weeks. I was a bit gun-shy about pushing things beyond that given Greg's historically mixed feelings about what we were doing, though I did desperately want him to fuck me. Getting each other off was going fairly well fairly regularly, but I needed that nice cock of his in me. How best to proceed? Carefully, I figured. I'd continue biding my time and trying to enjoy what we had going as I awaited a suitable sexual opportunity.

I was suddenly 33 weeks along; I realized I'd been waiting around for an opportunity for several weeks, neglecting to fool around with Greg in any capacity for at least a week. Masturbation was only taking me so far. I was seriously, burningly horny for my housemate.

Greg was alone watching TV in the family room the evening of this realization. The parents were upstairs, out of our way. I plopped down on the couch next to my stepbrother wearing my black yoga crop top and leggings. I stuck my third trimester belly out dramatically and rubbed it with exaggerated hand motions. "Wanna rub?" I asked in an attempt at seduction. He glanced at the door, presumably nervous about someone else walking in. "They're upstairs, Greg. Rub away." Gently and carefully, he placed one hand on my bump and began rubbing. I could see his erection through his sweatpants within about 5 seconds. I got a hand inside his pants and started stroking as he continued massaging me. He closed his eyes with pleasure; I followed suit.

I needed him more than just in my hand, it dawned on me after jerking him for a minute or two. "Pull your pants down a little," I commanded. He glanced at the door again but did obey, pulling pants and underwear down to below his ass. I leaned over immediately to get him in my mouth. His cock felt great orally, thick and firm and slightly veiny. It felt like he was going to shoot pretty much from the moment I started face-fucking him. I didn't want to waste one more of his loads outside my cunt, I realized as he was just starting to twitch climactically.

So I sat up, pulled down my pants further, faced him, and swung a leg over his lap as I sat my ass back down. I had him inside me in one fluid motion. Quietly so as not to send any auditory clue of what we were doing to the parents upstairs, I fucked my stepbrother on the couch. Finally! He gripped my big baby bump in both hands as we fucked; this majorly did it for me. We only fucked for a minute or so, but I managed to get off twice. I only had to bounce up and down on his cock about ten times before he shot in me. I kept riding, though, until he softened too much for me to continue. His cum dripped out of me and down his shaft into his thicket of dark pubic hair. Ultimately, he did limply flop out of me. Refractory periods are a real bummer. We swiftly reclothed ourselves and went our separate ways. I knew I had some feelings to sort through privately, and I figured Greg might as well.

My feelings became clear to me as soon as I retreated to my room and found myself masturbating repeatedly as I thought about what we'd just done. I was way into it, was my overarching feeling. It had been super hot and I very much wanted it to happen again. I couldn't help myself; the next morning, I woke Greg up by sucking his dick.

The parents were already out of the house, leaving us the freedom to play a little more roughly. I'm not sure if he always did, but on this particular occasion I'd been lucky enough to find him sleeping naked. He hardened in my mouth in moments, moaning both in pleasure and sleepy confusion. Once he was suitably erect I pulled the blankets off him and mounted that fat cock of his. He moved his hips below me, thrusting up and down as I similarly bounced. The thwacking together of our crotch flesh was louder than any noise we'd produced when quietly fucking the night before. Our moans were even louder than that, though.

We went hard and fast, never slowing down to savor or prolong. I held my tits to prevent painful bouncing; he gripped my tight drum of a belly, eyes widening when it got even tighter with a Braxton Hicks contraction halfway through. This session only ended up lasting three or four minutes. It was absolutely divine, though, feeling like a dam of pent-up horny feelings was finally allowed to burst. I squirted when I came, a rarity for me but always a sure sign of extraordinarily heightened arousal. He gave me a nice big creampie just as I shot my load, my convulsions and his mixing together arrhythmically. It was a fittingly sexy end to a seriously great fuck.

GREG TAKES CHARGE

Greg woke up to me fucking him every day for two weeks. Other adventures were scattered about, too, including fucking in the shower and occasionally on the couch. We enjoyed creampies and fucking until we couldn't physically keep it up: so, we left our fair share of hot cum messes around the house. The shower was easy enough to clean, but we couldn't do much but put a pillow over the semen stains we created on the family room couch. It was our dirty little secret, and I loved it. I assumed Greg was enjoying himself, too, though we rarely spoke much outside of our sexual sessions.

One day when I was 35 weeks along, he approached me fully clothed (a real rarity) in the kitchen. "We need to talk," he said with a whole lot of anxiety-provoking seriousness. I nodded hesitantly and he began. "What we've been doing is wrong, I think. I know I've said this before and we continued doing more and more. But really, I think we should stop. What if someone catches us? Can you even imagine what that would be like? I'm nervous about it all the time, and I just don't think it's worth it. This stuff is taboo for a reason. We really need to stop, Elisa. Are you with me at all?"

I felt my eyes tear up a little bit. "Of course, Greg. I'm sorry, I guess we've gotten sort of carried away. I'll accept a lot of the blame for that: I really did escalate things. I don't want you to be anxious about this all the time or anything. Of course we can stop. It's been fun, though, as far as I'm concerned. No need to be ashamed. No one did catch us, after all. Better to end it while we've still managed to keep it a secret, though. No hard feelings?"

"No hard feelings," he agreed. From there, we kept our distance from each other, never occupying the same room for more than a passing moment. His eyes were glued to my rapidly rounding belly whenever we were briefly occupying the same space, though. He still wanted me; I could tell. I masturbated over and over thinking about what he might do to me if our dumb parents hadn't happened to marry each other. Of course, we probably wouldn't even know each other in that situation. Whatever, these were just fantasies to help me rub one out; they by no means had to be entirely realistic.

We traded brief knowing glances whenever we ran into each other. The desire was palpable, never acted upon. This went on for about three weeks, a real waste of a chunk of late pregnancy.

One particularly warm Saturday when I was about 36 weeks along, I spent a chunk of my day lounging by the backyard pool. Greg was busy with something in his bedroom, our respective parents watching television in the family room. I wore a white bikini, hormone-enhanced breasts nearly busting out of my top and hanging belly nearly obscuring my bottoms. I was quite the sight by this point. After closing my eyes for half an hour or so, I opened them to find a swimsuit-clad Greg right next to me in the adjacent lounge chair. "Bend over the table," he said authoritatively as soon as we made eye contact.

I was instantly wet. It was about damn time, Greg! I stood up and went right to our glass-topped outdoor table, forearms placed atop its surface as I presented my backside to my stepbrother. He pulled down my bikini bottoms and his own bathing suit. He entered my quickly, unceremoniously; entirely unlike his past technique, but a great beginning to a great fuck nonetheless. We went hard and fast. He shushed me when I began to moan; I quickly remembered just how close our other, certain-to-be-disapproving housemates were to our location. The sounds of thwacking our fleshy areas into each other were the loudest auditory clues to what we were doing out there.

He managed to wrap one arm around my huge belly as he humped, fingers massaging my new outie belly button. His other hand gripped each of my tits in turn, fingers roughly digging into my bikini to pinch my nipples. I was able to support myself with just one forearm on the table so that I could use my other hand to rub my clit, producing several intense orgasms as we screwed.

I glanced around to the two highly visible neighbors' yards on either side of ours. Anyone could've wandered outside and caught us in the act. Not to mention, again, the awake and active parent each of us had within our home. It didn't matter: we fucked, we got off, and Greg took his leave of me as soon as he shot his load inside me. I pulled my bikini bottoms back up, his cum falling out of me and soaking the garment. Sitting back down on my relaxing chair, I let gravity do its filthy creampie-dripping work as I enjoyed some post-coital endorphins and sun rays. We had really gotten away with something this time; I very much hoped Greg wasn't yet done with me.

Luckily for me, he very much wasn't finished using me like this. Much to my delight, we went harder over my last month of pregnancy than we ever had previously. That was "harder" both in terms of amount of times we fucked and how rough it got each time. Maybe Greg was working out some of the internal shame he felt from sleeping with his stepsister or something, but whatever the reason behind it, there was undeniably a new aggression to his technique. I can't say I minded even a bit: I've always appreciated it when things got a little bit rough. Though we were generally able to stifle our moans and other in-the-moment vocalizations, our hard fucking did produce some serious flesh noises. It was as if we were daring people to catch us using the very force with which we humped each other. It was hot as hell.

This went on right into week 39 of this horny pregnancy. We were screwing in the family room at about midnight, my mother and his father sleeping upstairs. Greg was sitting on the couch and I was facing away and riding him: I could no longer face him for seated sex, as my huge bump was simply too much in the way to allow vaginal entry. He was able to reach around my waist and grip the giant bouncing belly in both hands as I rode him, though, to my everlasting delight. I steadied myself with one hand on the back of the couch while rubbing my tight cunt and his thrusting cock with my other hand.

Bouncing heavily and loudly upon my partner, I suddenly had the feeling that I'd squirted well before my climax arrived. And the volume was even greater than usual. I looked down and saw the mess I'd made all over both Greg and the couch. The smell of the fluid was novel, sweeter than usual. I realized with a start that I hadn't ejaculated; my water had broken as we fucked. Maybe those contractions I'd been feeling as he massaged my belly hadn't been Braxton Hicks or sexually-derived convulsions of pleasure after all.

We quickly resumed clothing and Greg drove me to the hospital like a dutiful family member. It was a shame that our sexual adventures were coming to an apparent end, but there were obviously other exciting things happening for me at this moment of labor.

We realized upon arriving at the hospital that we'd left the stain from my water breaking untended on the couch. It was a fun little monument to all the fun we'd had, visible for anyone and everyone to see. They might not know from looking at it why exactly it had happened there, but Greg and I would always hold dear our sexual secret.