More sex?

You look down at Claire's flushed, beautiful face, the dangerous curve of her hips, and the lingering trace of white cream drying on her inner thigh.

"More sex?" you ask with a slow smirk.

She smiles, her lips parting to reveal her white teeth, a look of lust in her eyes. "More sex."

"That sounds like a plan," you mutter, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her back into your heat. But as she settles against you, you can't help but shake your head slightly, a soft laugh escaping your lips. "You know, you’re laying it on pretty thick in that message, telling him you want to get pregnant with my baby."

Claire giggles, shifting her weight so she is laying flat on her back, looking up at you as you hover over her. "Well, it’s his fetish, isn't it? He’s the one who wanted this. But honestly... since he planted the idea in my head when he gave me to you, back at the hotel, the idea has just grown on me."

You nod, recalling the scene.

She reaches up, her hands framing your jaw, her thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. "Why should I be against it since it’s his idea anyway? I should just enjoy it instead. Don't you think?"

You look down at her, impressed by the absolute, chaotic logic of her submission to the fantasy. "That’s a pretty positive way to look at it," you remark.

"The only 'positive' I’m looking for right now is the one on the test strip when we get back," she whispers, her hips tilting upward instinctively, her core brushing against your thigh, already growing slick again.

You feel a surge of pure, possessive masculine pride flare up deep in your chest. The initial boundary of the arrangement has completely disintegrated. "I can definitely get behind that idea," you growl, your hands sliding beneath her thighs, lifting them onto your shoulders. "So you’ve got a baby craze now, huh?."

"Yes, yours." she whimpers, her eyes locking onto yours, filled with a sudden, **** intensity that borders on a delirium. "And later you can get behind when you seed me again but now I'm in the mood of the old dependable trusty missionary."

"More like 'thrusty'"

She laughs and pull you in for a deep kiss. After the two of you pull away, she whispers.

"Fuck me."

With that soft command, you drive deep inside her, the friction scolding hot as you begin a fast, heavy, driving tempo. The rhythm is primal now, stripped of the performative nature of the camera. It is just the two of you, and the heavy, undeniable urge to breed her.

"You like the idea, don't you, John?" she grunts desperately. "Couldn't wait to get someone's wife in trouble."

"Oh, gawd, Claire. You're making me lose control" you grunt as you begin to fuck her faster and faster.

Claire is writhing beneath you, her fingers tearing at the white sheets, lost in act of illicit breeding, deep and hard, over and over again. "Seed my womb, John! Let me carry it! Let me give birth to your child! Get me pregnant!" she screams into the quiet room, her head tossing wildly on the pillows as she's on the verge of orgasm.

The ****, commanding wail of her voice breaks your final dam. You grip her thighs tightly, pinning her down as you deliver five more devastatingly deep, powerful thrusts.

"Yes!" you roar, your head burying into the crook of her neck as you blow your thick, hot release deep inside her fertile womb, pulse after pulse of your seed filling her completely while she screams through her own shattering climax, her inner walls clamping around you like a vice, holding your gift tight within her.