You aren't sure, but it's worth a shot

Hmmm - can you be happy with Trish? In truth you barely know her - you know how she dresses, her taste in music, some of the people she hangs out with... how much she likes to fuck. Also, what exactly does she mean? Can you be happy you're going to give birth to her baby? Can you be happy spending the rest of your life with her? Do you have anything in common with her, really? If you don't, is two days of steamy, awesome sex enough to build a relationship out of?

You realize that she's probably expecting some kind of response. You're just lying there getting a back rub and not saying anything. You almost feel the worry radiating off her, so you give the answer to her other question. "Yes. I forgive you Trish."

There's a heartfelt sigh from behind you. Inside your head you try to contemplate abortion - the most obvious solution to your problem... and you find that you absolutely can't. Fuck, you should have expected that. The bitch on the phone mentioned that you'd enjoy the next nine months or something similar. With the effort she put into knocking you up there's no way she'd allow you any kind of out.

Trish's hands slide down your back and wrap around your sides, massaging your flanks and then sliding lower still. She touches her fingers together right under your belly button and starts kissing the nape of your neck.

"We really can't spend all day in bed," you repeat, but your heart isn't in in. Your pussy is far too wet and hot for you to resist Trish's ministrations.

"No, not all day," she says. A large, fleshy object presses up against your pussy lips and you instinctively spread your legs and raise your ass, leaving yourself wide open and allowing Trish to go as deep as she likes. Inside, you curse yourself for such sluttiness - but you still feel as horny as you did yesterday.

"Mmmm, that's good," Trish tells you, rewarding you by sliding the length of her shaft against your clit. The network of veins bumping your sensitive nub causing you to press your face into the pillow. Trish pulls back and starts to press her cock deeper inside, your folds parting for her without any help from your hands or hers. "Yes, my sweet - you love being filled, don't you?"

You mumble an 'Oh God yes!' into the pillow.

"Yeah, bite that pillow babe. Don't want you waking the whole house." She keeps her hands on your belly but starts moving them around, rubbing your flat stomach as her hot prick slowly, oh so slowly, presses deeper and deeper inside you.

When Trish bottoms out and the head of her cock kisses your cervix she whispers, "I'm so turned on right now, knowing what's in here." She gives your tummy a possessive squeeze to emphasize the point. "You're a mom now. And I'm the one who got you pregnant."

You want to complain, you want to tell her you're not at all comfortable with the idea. But your traitorous cunt is enjoying Trish's huge cock too much to allow it. Instead you bite that pillow, you moan like you're in heat and you push back against Trish's meaty pole, trying to scratch that itch. It feels wonderful every time she brushes against your cervix - in fact you start to wonder if you could have an orgasm that way.

"Yeah, you're gonna be a great mom, a fun mom, a sexy mom, aren't you? I'll be there with you, every day, ready to drill that pussy no matter how big your belly gets."

Part of you, maybe the remnant of your male side, wants to be disgusted by Trish's comments - you weren't supposed to be pregnant, it wasn't supposed to be like this. But the rest of you is thrilled that Trish wants to stay with you and fuck you all the way through. You don't want your belly to swell, but it will and when it does you know you will need Trish's cock. It's a strange thing to be thinking when you're so close to cumming hard.

"You like that?" Trish asks, her hard nipples making little circles as they press against your shoulders. She sounds like she's close to cumming. Then, much to your annoyance, she pauses and says, "Hey, I just thought of something. How old are you, anyway?"

"Eighteen," you reply breathlessly.

"When's your birthday?" she asks in a lusty tone.

You struggle to get a little bit more stimulation. You can't think straight and you've got to cum! Why is she asking these questions? But Trish holds you tight, forcing you to answer her. When you do she laughs. "Wouldn't that be a nice birthday present," she says as she starts plumbing your depths once more. "I wonder if that's what the woman on the phone had in mind?"

You gasp, not just from the deep thrusts Trish is hammering you with, but because you know what she means. Your eighteenth birthday was just under three months ago - so on your nineteenth, if the baby is a little late you might just be giving birth. You picture yourself, enormously pregnant and unwrapping a gift when your water breaks. And with that image in your mind and Trish's hands holding your belly you cum like a freight train.

"Attagirl," says Trish through clenched teeth. She pistons in and out a few more times before cumming, drenching your cervix and flooding your womb with even more of her lovely, potent sperm.