Fuck Yes indeed

You do not need to be asked twice. Catching her wide hips, you haul her back onto the bed, and that shelf of an ass meets you before the rest of her does, giving under your hips, soft and heavy enough that you have to spread the cheeks with both hands just to find her. She is already wet. The head of your cock noses into that heat, and she reaches back, fingers slipping on her own slick, and holds herself open for you.

"Put it in," Lisa says. "Don't make me ask twice."

You push, and the head meets real resistance, her lips stretching thin around the flare until both of you make a noise at the same time. She is tight in a way the blowjob never was, a living grip that lets the crown past the ring and then stalls you there, half the shaft still out, her cunt clamped on you like it has decided that is as far as you go. The rest of you throbs against that hold, slick from her fingers cooling on your shaft, her spread cheeks trembling where your thumbs keep them apart.

"Fuck, Mom, I can't get the rest in," you say.

"It's too big, honey, just hold still a second," she says, already rocking, working herself back onto you, the plea arriving with the push. Fishnets drag your thighs on every rock. Her tits hang and swing under her, still too big for the bunny bra, knocking together on each shift, and that knock is still in front of you when the decision not to wait settles and the wish comes out.

"I wish your pussy could take all of me," you say and her clamp lets go as the words finish. Lisa's moan goes into the mattress while you sink, inch after inch, the give continuing until your balls press flat against her and the shelf of her ass closes over your hips.

A hand under her stomach finds the ridge of you there. She stays on it, breathing hard, stuffed, and the next words come out of that breath. "Oh fuck, that's the whole thing," she says, voice muffled in the sheets. "I can feel it in my guts. Move."

The draw back follows the order, drag running all the way out until your head tugs at her entrance and her cunt tries to follow it. Driving in sends a wave up both cheeks, and the next thrust lands in that wave before it dies, the ripple stacking as your shaft disappears between them. Both hands go under her on that sight, a tit in each, hauling her back onto you. They spill out of the grip. She pushes into the haul, chasing it.

"Harder," Lisa says. "I'm not going to break."

Taken at her word, the pace comes up under your hands, hips meeting that shelf hard enough that the wet sound fills the room, her breath catching each time your base seats, your balls wetting on the way in and stripping that slick onto the sheets as you stop holding anything back. She talks through it, yes and there and don't you dare stop, voice cracking in the same moment you lift the angle, the crack riding the thrust.

"I wish you could feel how close I am," you say, lettign the magic do the rest.

The wish takes her on the next stroke, legs shaking under you as that same drive sets her off, her cunt fluttering and clamping in a pulse that runs the length of your shaft while you are still driving it into her. She keeps moving through it, one hand fisted in the sheets for leverage, the other reaching under to cup your balls and pull, and the pull draws the following thrust deeper than the ones before it.

"Don't pull out," she says, voice gone rough from the cum still working through her. "Finish in me. I want all of it in me."

You are already there from the clamp, so the wish comes out as you bury. "I wish you get pregnant from this," you say, hilted, and your balls draw up against her as the first shot lands thick enough that she gasps and grabs the mattress. It does not stop. Pulse after pulse floods her with nowhere to go, leaking out around your shaft in heavy strings, running down her thighs and soaking the bed under her knees, and under your hand her belly starts to answer it.

Her flat toned stomach rounds, then tightens, skin stretching shiny over the load you are still pumping in, the swell climbing from a soft curve to something that hangs and shifts when she braces on her elbows. She looks down at it because she can feel the weight change, one hand leaving the sheets to cradle it, and the groan that follows is from another thick shot of yours forcing the curve bigger against her palm.

"Fuck, honey, I can see it," she says. "It's stretching me. Don't stop, fill it."

What holds your eye is the belly. It hangs between her thighs, round and tight, the bunny bottoms shoved aside so the whole swell is bare, skin shiny where your cum has stretched it past what her gym-flat stomach was built for. A shift of her knees sends a visible roll through it. Cum beads at her cunt and runs down to join the mess already on the sheets, and the curve does not drop. She looks down at it, flushed, hair coming loose from the ponytail.

"Holy shit," she says. "You came a gallon. I look pregnant already."

She does. The shelf of her ass frames it from behind, her tits hanging on either side when she leans, and the whole shape rocks when she tries to straighten. Admiring it only lasts a moment before the wish comes out quiet, aimed at the swell and not at her.

"I wish your body could absorb all that extra cum like food, flush every toxin out of you while it does, and cum hard the whole way through until your belly is back to how it was."

She never hears it as a wish. A gasp cuts her off mid-breath, and the hand under the curve clamps down as the orgasm hits without her asking for it. Her cunt clenches on nothing and pushes another thick string onto the sheets, thighs shaking, and the moan that follows is longer than the ones from the fucking. Inside the swell something gives under your eyes. The tight drum of skin softens at the edges first, the hang drawing inward while she cums through it, each pulse of the orgasm pulling the curve smaller. A flush climbs her chest and throat. She sweats, sudden and clean, like a fever breaking, and whatever had been sitting heavy in her drains with your load.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, what is— honey, it's moving," she says, not looking back at you, staring at her own stomach as it slims under her palm.

The roll inward keeps time with the aftershocks. Round becomes a soft pouch, the pouch pulls flat, and by the time the last clench runs through her the belly is the toned line it had been before your first shot, skin damp, no stretch left in it. She cums once more on the emptiness, a weaker ripple, and sags onto her elbows, ass still up, the shelf giving a slow unsteady wag she does not seem to notice she is doing.

"It's gone," she says, voice wrecked, hand sliding over flat skin like she does not trust it. "I came so hard it just... went back. I feel light. I feel fucking clean."

She looks over her shoulder at you at last, face flushed, eyes unfocused, no idea the words had been yours.

"Again?" she asks.