So, as I closed in aiming to transfer an ocean of vibrant active sperm into the fertile wombs of these healthy, future mothers, the only ‘protection’ that their husbands could have counted on were now strewn across the hardwood floor.
I didn’t say a word. The women instantly understood. Right in front of the eyes of their impotent husbands, I walked up to the huge sectional sofa where the four trophy wives were lying.
I straightened them up and put them in line. Now, they were in a tight group, side-by-side, and four needing some serious loving. Their legs were up in the air, their gorgeous smooth feet dangling. Their legs were interlinked with the woman to their side.
Me: “Ladies, open yourself up. I want our audience of sissies to see what a REAL man can do with one powerful cock. I am going to splash my cum inside each of you and let your toy husbands watch as all of that sperm trickles inside of you.”
They looked at each other, giggled like school girls, and then used their manicured socialite hands to widen the opening to their totally unprotected and (hopefully) fertile pussies.
I ripped off my clothes and flexed my huge twenty inch ‘guns’ as the MILF trophy wives cooed and applauded. My cock needed no further encouragement to attain its full ten inch splendor. I now stood before them, mountainous biceps, ten inch cock, and testes swollen to avocado size. I turned away from those babes and addressed our ‘audience’:
Me: “As you can see, I AM the alpha male here; the MAN. It’s only right, only natural, that I get to breed the females. So just sit back and watch this young guy that you enjoyed pushing around service YOUR wives. Rest assured, whatever else we do today, I will make sure that my potent seed is safely deposited deeply inside your wife’s fertile womb. Gentlemen, with apologies, I’ve got some work to do: it’s baby-making time!”
What happened next was pure heaven, more dream than reality. The four trophy wives were on their backs, side-by-side, gorgeous shapely legs in the air, interlinked with the woman to their side.
I would bend over and make out with each one, caressing their plump breasts, tweaking a nipple, perhaps even locking my hungry mouth upon those erect, thumb-sized future milk nozzles. I was eliciting a lot of responses, too, mostly moans of pleasure from the women and gasps of horror from the wimpy husbands as they stood by in impotent rage.
My Mr. Johnson needed absolutely no help whatsoever in getting ‘up’ for these spectacular women. Still, I pulled up to the sofa and stood so that they could just barely reach my ten inches of manhood. I let all four give a yank or two to that rod of steel.
I then scampered onto that huge flat sofa, giving each woman in turn a chance to honor my manhood in a more ‘intimate way’. The feeling of their warm mouths on it was just overwhelming. I had to struggle not to cut loose with all that hot lava that was boiling right below that titanium rod of mine.
The backed-up pressure was explosive; I had to release that ocean of sperm-laden cum or it would erupt in a gusher to rival ‘old faithful’. After going down the row one last time for kisses, I stood up and barked to the obedient women to open themselves up again and get ready.
I keyholed my huge cock a final few times. Then I bent forward and made like a factory machine. Into each yawning chasm (held open as ordered by me, the alpha male), I splashed a huge wave of baby batter. I quickly went to the next open pussy. This continued as I went from woman to woman, in turn pumping out as much seed as I could possibly produce.
When I had finished ‘splashing their gash’ (each woman got about three splashes, making it an even dozen out of my mighty tool), I went back to the first woman on the left and plunged my cock in. I was pushing all of that baby-making sperm into the deepest recesses of their respective baby chambers. My lengthy tool was just long enough to push its way directly into their fertile wombs. This was repeated three glorious times.
Exhausted and spent, I turned to see my ‘appreciative audience’ of husbands. They all looked pale and sickly. I couldn’t blame them. They had had a soft and easy existence, their lives complete with incredibly hot babes for wives.
Then this punk kid (yours truly) came around, taking a barrage of abuse from them. They thought that arrangement would never end, but that stud finally ‘strutted his stuff’. Eventually he ended up plowing his gigantic unit (uncut and bareback) into the unprotected chambers of those wives.
Now they gazed upon the open maws of their wives’ sacred gateways to heaven. Each one of their wives sported a ‘crème pie’; a thick mass of frothy goo was drooling out their well-fucked sperm-filled pussies and was oozing down one or both of their glistening thighs. The hardwood floor now had slippery puddles of love liquids beneath each gorgeous trophy wife.
The odds of the women, in whole or part, actually getting pregnant by me were not good. So, it was with great surprise, and more than a little satisfaction, to receive calls some weeks later. All three of mom’s friends were in the family way. All three thought that the ‘favor’ they promised me after the storm would only be legit if they went ahead and gave birth. And so they all agreed. I couldn’t wait to tell my mother.
Me: “Guess what mom? In the best act of revenge in history, I knocked up not one or two, but all three of your friends!”
Mom: “Well, I hate to burst your bubble, stud boy, but I heard that too and rushed over to our OB-GYN; she said I’m incredibly fertile and 100% not pregnant!”
My mother and I sparred for almost ninety minutes. She told me that the other women were one thing; being my mother, she’d have no choice but to ‘get rid’ of any baby of mine. I asked, then begged her to re-consider. She said ‘no’ with a wan smile, knowing that she was still ‘in control’.
It should’ve been enough for me to have three beautiful wives under my thumb, but it wasn’t. My mother was another trophy wife, to me the ultimate. I had to do something or I’d always wonder what might have been.
Without taking the time to think, I ripped open mom’s dress, lifting her up by her waist and tossing her onto her bed like a rag doll. She was about to scamper off when I pointed to the middle of the bed, commanding her to remain at that exact spot. She did.
My clothes were history in seconds and within less than a minute, my hard cock was joined up to a sopping pussy. Whether she wanted my baby or not, I had to give my supersexy mother a thorough breeding to let her know ‘the score’.
My ten inch baby-maker rubbed raw her sensitive vaginal walls; they pulsated, tingled with sensation as the raw, uncut, oversized cockhead of yours truly sawed away in there. When my lengthy ramrod lightly touched her innermost reaches, she moaned in ecstasy.
I was a breeding machine, moving at blinding speed. My gorgeous mom was beneath me, her fertile womb totally unprotected and welcoming. I had a manly duty to fill it with an ocean of potent seed and I wouldn’t stop until I’d ‘got her done’.
I was careful to hold back until mom had five…no six…very vocal orgasms before I pumped my manly semen inside of her, washing her cervical area in a sea of milky cum teeming with 94% pure sperm. If she wasn’t already pregnant, this surely would do the job leaving no doubt whatsoever.
Mom had basically challenged me when she said that she alone was the sole ‘intact’ member of her gang of four MILF’s. I took up that challenge; against her objections, I insisted that we make love the entire night. I came in mom some seven times. In the end most of it was unnecessary anyway; my mother conceived after the second round of loving.
Talk about ‘turning the tables’; from that moment forward, the four ladies laid down the law at home. Henceforth, they would occasionally entertain male visitors. [Note: ‘male visitors’ equalled: me.] If that ‘entertainment’ led to pregnancy, they (the wimp husbands) would have to foot the bill and tell everyone that those were THEIR babies.
The four diminutive husbands were not allowed to complain. Some Sundays, they’d be watching football. I would pull up a chair to watch, too. Then their supersexy wife would slink out in only a robe. With a moan and a squish, they would drag their wet pussies down my chest and lock lips together in a French kiss.
We would make love right there in front of the football game while their pathetic husbands could only wince and pretend to watch the game too. I tell you it was a great set-up. Imagine being a dinner guest and, on a whim, in the middle of dinner, just grabbing the hostess. Often I would tear open a blouse, rip open one whole side of the nursing bra, and suckle mother’s milk while the little ‘man of the house’ watched in muted rage.
If those bald-headed trolls wanted this to stop, then their wives would sue for divorce. If all four wives left, taking all their socialite friends too, the four men’s legal practice would consist of DUI’s and fixing speeding tickets. So, they were stuck.
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