Trick or Cheat

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I have mixed feelings about this next chapter, because as I checked, chapter 1 had a low rating, but I received a lot of requests to write part 2.

Let's see what happens.

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Arianna wondered, not having had that typical pregnant morning sickness after so many weeks, if something had gone wrong. She had checked the internet, and usually, it would start between 3 and 6 weeks after a successful impregnation. Nothing. She didn’t dare to buy a pregnancy test, afraid her husband would see what she bought. She was cautious with that, because she hadn’t managed to sleep after Halloween one single time with him. She wanted her husband to believe that the baby was his, but even her attempts to get him drunk and aroused at a party had not been successful. Instead, she had to drive him home and undress her snoring husband in the living room, as he had crashed on their sofa. Of course, she had tried to suck him hard that time so she would simply ride him and make him cum at least once inside her to have that searched-for alibi. Nothing. He stayed flaccid like a baby.

A baby.

Arianna wanted so badly to have that baby swelling; her flat young stomach ruined by the bastard. She yearned for having those big pregnant knockers, those milk-leaking Mommy tits, ruining her dresses as the baby milk would simply drip on those grown, big udders.

She wondered where it had gone wrong. Since she had not taken the pill for at least a year, her fertile days had become irregular. Here again she had the same problem, not wanting her husband to discover she bought a fertility tracker. So, she didn’t. Her husband was now almost always home, the inflation was to blame him for getting fewer and fewer gardening orders, and in these tough times, he would certainly not want to become a father. If he found out, she would have hell to pay.

But maybe the Halloween stranger had poor semen. Poor swimmers. She had driven around many times, on different hours of the day, through their neighborhood trying to find him, nothing. She didn’t even know if she wanted to be fucked again by him or if she wanted him to test his sperm quality. What would she do if he refused to get tested? But she was lying to herself. Because every time she found an excuse to take their car and drive around, she had noticed how moist she was. Once, she even had to stop and park the car right in front of the children's daycare to finger and calm down her demanding pussy. Arianna leaned back against the backrest and gave her sopping pussy a true punishment, using two fingers and her thumb to penetrate herself at the same time her thumb was disciplined with her swollen clit.

Many dads who had come to pick up their kids from the daycare saw what she was doing. Arianna could clearly see a couple of erect cock outlines against the fabric of their pants. Outlines from hard, successful cocks, having at least knocked up once their wives. She even invited one to come to her car's window, the one with the biggest cock outline. He wanted to, but looked nervously at his own car, seeing his wife carefully watching him.

But he had made a baby. Arianna thought. How can I get him to come fuck me? she wondered.

She looked at him again as he walked towards his wife in his car, and she noticed that his child was still very young, clearly less than a year old, which suggested that he was clearly less than a year old, so his seed should be still very virile.

His warm cum should be able to fuck her a baby, she thought, but how would she get him to fuck my married cunt, she wondered.

And then she had the perfect idea!

The small daycare only accepted children from the neighborhood! So, what she could organize was a meet-other-parents party! Simply inviting those big-cocked dads to come to their place with their wives, and each time sneaking one up to the marital bedroom. She would simply invite too many people, having the place overcrowded, and her husband wouldn’t even notice if she was gone, and one cock was pumping her full with strong, warm daddy seed.

And then she shivered, her pussy getting even wetter, as the next idea popped up. If she would invite up to their bedroom, those ready hard Daddy cocks in ten-minute intervals, she could have the cum of six daddies in her cheating pussy within one hour, playing a little roulette, nobody knowing who the father was. And all had at least made one baby, so the chance of having good, strong cum flooding her womb was guaranteed.

Still, I need to plan the party in my ovulating week. She thought. I need some kind of secret calendar her hubby wouldn’t find. She checked on her phone if any secret calendar apps existed. She easily found the Love Diary with password, which had a calendar, diary, moods, reminders, and so on. Perfect! And then she realized, despite all, she should indeed buy a fertility predictor, but paying cash, on her way to the gym and test herself in the toilet of the gym. At the gym she could safely get rid of her purchase after having used it.

So how would she invite those big-dad-cocks and their wives?

Arianna thought about it for a moment and then walked into the daycare's lobby to find out if they would organize any social events for parents.

Bingo!

Next week there was a mixed art show combined with an outdoor cleanup coming up. Only three places left. She quickly filled out the form and dropped it in the mailbox, which was hanging there from the wall, assuring a place for her. And she could always pretend to be a new teacher there so she wouldn’t be coming on too strong. Unless she grabbed a dad's half-erect cock, that is.

The next step was some kind of invitation flyer. But that was too much, she thought. How about a business card with the invitation, their address, and her cell number? That way only she could receive all the possible calls, and a business card was easy to hide, in case the big-cocked daddy wanted to come without his wife. Whenever handing over the business card, she would show the dad her perky tits, making sure he knew he was in for a treat if he showed up. Or maybe make a blowjob signal with her tongue inside her mouth, hitting her cheeks. Now she didn’t know how to handle it if everybody wanted her. She thought about it for a moment and came up with a simple solution in her mind:

In the worst case, I let everybody fuck me.

Arianna laughed, asking herself how many cocks a married woman should welcome in her cunt to make her a slut.

The wifey giggled again, thinking, How many cocks do I need to please to get to the *true slut* level?

Does swallowing a stranger's cum count too?

Is anal OK to reach the *true slut* level?

Arianna laughed even harder and drove to the nearest print shop to get some cards made.

“How many do you need? the print shop clerk asked. Is 200 enough?”

Arianna laughed loudly, and the poor guy didn’t follow her at all.

…

So how to be safe to get knocked up was the next question she had. Her ovulating day.

After downloading the app, she went to withdraw some cash and bought the predictor. The moment she arrived at the gym without any sports clothes, some of the members wondered, but since she almost ran into the ladies, they thought she needed a bathroom quickly. Which was true. She quickly did the test and waited impatiently the full five minutes. It simply said 2 weeks. Perfect! One week after the childcare activity.

Arianna drove home, singing songs for the rest of the entire day.

…

The morning of the mixed art show and outdoor cleanup arrived with perfect autumn weather—crisp enough for sweaters that could be peeled away and sunny enough to make everyone linger outside. Arianna had dressed carefully for the occasion: a loose-knit cream sweater that draped off one shoulder, revealing the lacy strap of her black bra, paired with a short plaid skirt that showed off her toned thighs. She wore knee-high boots that clicked against the pavement as she walked toward the daycare center, her purse heavy with the freshly printed business cards.

She had told her husband she was volunteering to help organize the event—a little lie that allowed her to arrive early and position herself strategically. The daycare's warehouse, a converted garage space behind the main building, would serve as the storage area for art supplies and cleanup equipment. It was dimly lit, smelled of paint and cardboard, and most importantly, had a lock on the inside of the door.

The event began at ten. Parents arrived with their children, milling about the outdoor sculpture garden where local artists had installed pieces made from recycled materials. Arianna played her role perfectly—helping children glue macaroni onto cardboard, directing dads to the coffee station, and bending over just enough when picking up dropped toys to give the watching fathers a glimpse of her cleavage or the curve of her ass beneath that short skirt.

By noon, she had identified her targets. There was Ethan, a tall man with broad shoulders and a tight t-shirt that showed off his sculpted arms, there with his toddler daughter. There was David, a lean dad with tattoos peeking from his collar, who kept adjusting himself in his jeans whenever Arianna brushed past him. There was Stefan, a Nordic-looking giant with hands that could palm a basketball, who had already knocked up his wife twice according to the daycare gossip. There was James, a wiry but muscular dad with intense eyes who watched her every move. And finally, there was Alexander, a stocky father with a thick beard and a wedding ring he kept twisting nervously whenever she smiled at him.

During the lunch break, when most families spread blankets on the lawn for sandwiches, Arianna made her move. She approached each man individually, touching their arms, laughing at their jokes, letting her fingers trail across their chests when pretending to dust off lint. To each, she whispered the same invitation: "Meet-the-parents party at my place next Saturday. Just a small gathering. Here's my card."

She pressed the business cards into their palms, ensuring her fingers lingered, ensuring they felt the heat of her skin. But for five of them—the five with the most obvious bulges in their pants, the ones whose eyes hungered—she had something extra planned.

"There's something I need to show you in the warehouse," she told Ethan first, her voice dripping with promise. "About the art supplies. Could you help me?"

Ethan followed her like a man in a trance. Once inside the dim warehouse, Arianna locked the door behind them. The space was cluttered with boxes and old equipment, a single dusty window providing the only light. She turned to him, already pulling her sweater over her head, revealing her black lace bra and the flat, toned stomach she was so desperate to swell with a baby.

"Do you mind if I suck your cock naked?" She purred.

"Fuck," Ethan breathed, his eyes wide.

"Next week," Arianna purred, dropping to her knees on the concrete floor, "you're going to fuck me. You're going to put a baby in me. But today, I want a taste of what I'm getting."

She unzipped his jeans with practiced ease. His cock sprang free—thick and already hard, veins pulsing along its considerable length. Arianna moaned at the sight, her pussy clenching with need. She took him into her mouth immediately, not teasing, not playing. She needed him to cum quickly, needed to get back to the event before anyone noticed their absence.

Her lips stretched around his girth as she bobbed her head, using her hand to stroke what she couldn't fit in her mouth. Ethan groaned, his hands finding her hair, guiding her rhythm. Arianna worked him with enthusiasm, swirling her tongue around his head, sucking hard on the upstroke, letting her saliva coat his shaft until it glistened in the dim light. She fondled his heavy balls with one hand, imagining the potent seed they held, the seed that would soon fill her womb.

"Shit, shit, I'm close," Ethan grunted after only three minutes.

Arianna doubled her efforts, hollowing her cheeks, taking him deeper until he hit the back of her throat. She wanted his cum, wanted to taste the fertility she was purchasing with her mouth. When he erupted, she swallowed greedily, milking him with her hand and lips until he was empty and trembling. Some of his seed dripped onto her tits, but she scooped it up and sucked her fingers clean.

"Next Saturday," she whispered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she stood, her skirt hiked up to show her soaked black panties. "My house. Don't bring condoms. I'll be ovulating. This pussy will be yours to breed."

Ethan could only nod, still catching his breath, as Arianna straightened her clothes and slipped back outside.

David was next. She found him by the sculpture garden, pretending to examine a metal abstract piece. "I need help moving some heavy boxes," she cooed, her hand on his forearm. "You and me, in the warehouse."

Once inside, she didn't bother with preliminaries. She pushed him against a stack of cardboard boxes and dropped to her knees, unbuckling his belt. His cock was longer than Ethan's but slightly thinner, curved slightly upward, with a fat vein running along the underside. He will reach deep, she thought. Arianna licked it like a lollipop, base to tip, before taking him deep into her throat.

David's hands gripped the boxes behind him, knuckles white. "Your husband," he gasped. "What about—"

"Forget my husband," Arianna mumbled around his shaft, looking up at him with watering eyes. "Think about this."

She used her tongue expertly, flicking it against his sensitive frenulum while stroking his shaft. Her free hand went between her own legs, rubbing herself through her panties, showing him how wet this made her. The sight seemed to drive him wild—this married woman, half-naked in a daycare warehouse, pleasuring herself while sucking him off.

"I'm going to fuck you next week," she promised between strokes, her voice husky. "I'm going to ride you until you fill me. No condoms. I'm going to be so fertile, David. You could be the one who knocks me up. Would you like that? Being the daddy to my baby?"

"Yes," he groaned, thrusting into her mouth. "Yes, fuck, yes."

She took him deep one final time, swallowing around his head, and he came with a strangled cry, pumping hot cum down her throat. Arianna swallowed every drop, then tucked him back into his pants with a satisfied smile.

"Saturday," she reminded him. "Bring that cock ready to work."

Stefan, the giant, required a different approach. When she led him to the warehouse, he seemed hesitant, conflicted. "I shouldn't," he said, even as his eyes devoured her body when she stripped off her sweater again.

"You have two children," Arianna said, dropping to her knees before him. "That means your sperm works. That's what I need, Stefan. Proven sperm."

She freed his cock—it was massive, the largest she'd seen, thick with a pink head already leaking precum. Arianna used both hands, stroking him while she licked and sucked his head, unable to fit much more into her mouth. She worshipped him, moaning, letting him see how much she wanted this, wanted him.

"Next week," she gasped, coming up for air, her hands still working his shaft, "you're going to put this inside me. All of it. Deep as it goes. I'm going to be ovulating, Stefan. My womb will be ready. Don't bring condoms. Just bring this monster and fill me until I'm leaking your baby makers."

The dirty talk pushed him over the edge. With a groan that shook the boxes around them, he came, his load so large it spilled from her lips down her chin. Arianna didn't wipe it away—she let it dry there as she stood, the mark of her intentions.

"Saturday," she whispered, leaving him trembling.

James was waiting for her when she emerged. He must have seen the others enter and exit and must have known. "I want my turn," he said simply, his voice low and commanding.

Arianna felt a shiver of genuine arousal. She led him to the warehouse, but this time, she didn't direct the action. James took charge, pushing her to her knees roughly, gripping her hair in his fist. His cock was average in size but rock hard, pulsing with need. He fucked her face, setting the pace, using her mouth for his pleasure.

She loved it. She moaned around him, her hands on his hips, encouraging him to use her. When he pulled out to let her breathe, she begged, "Next week, do this to my pussy. Fuck me like this. Don't wear a condom. I want your cum deep inside. I want your baby, James. Give me your baby."

He came with a shout, painting her face with his seed, marking her as his future conquest. Arianna licked her lips, tasting him, nodding her submission.

"Saturday," he said, adjusting his clothes and leaving her on her knees.

Finally, Alexander. The stocky father with the beard seemed almost frightened when she approached him, but his cock was hard as steel when she freed it in the warehouse. He was uncut and thick, with a musky scent that made Arianna's head spin. She took her time with him, savoring him, rolling his foreskin back to lick the sensitive head beneath.

"Please," he whispered, his hands shaking as they touched her hair. "Please, I haven't—my wife, she doesn't—"

"I'll take care of you," Arianna promised, looking up at him with big, innocent eyes even as she worked his cock like a professional. "Next week, Alexander. Come to my party. No condoms. I'll be ovulating. You can have me any way you want. This pussy will be so wet for you. Just cum for me now. Show me how much you want it."

He came with a cry, his hips bucking, his seed filling her mouth in thick pulses. Arianna held him there, swallowing, comforting him with her hands on his thighs until he was finished.

When she emerged from the warehouse for the final time, her lips were swollen, her chin still sticky with remnants of five men's pleasure, her panties completely soaked. She had given out all two hundred business cards, but those five—the five whose cum she carried inside her belly—were the special invitations.

She found her purse, checked her reflection in a car window, removed one remaining little rope of cum, moaning as she swallowed it, enjoying its taste and smiled. The art show was winding down. Parents were packing up their children. And next Saturday, five hard-bodied dads would arrive at her door, ready to play Russian roulette with her fertile womb.

Arianna drove home singing again, her hand between her legs, already planning the party layout. The marital bed would need fresh sheets. And perhaps, if she was very lucky, by this time next month, she'd finally have the positive test she craved—without ever knowing which of the five had sealed her fate.

To be continued.