Big Daddy

Chapter 29

chapter twenty-nine

quincey

Two months later

There has never been a clinical term for anything that has aroused me until Winnie got pregnant.

At the very first doctor’s appointment we attended after discovering she was pregnant, we found out an approximate time of conception. Looking at the calendar, it was one of the times—if not the first time—we made love. We shared that information with the doctor and post labs and physical check, the doctor called Winnie fertile.

Fertile.

That word bricks me up. That word gets me rock fucking hard when I hear it and it is not a sexy word. At all. Fertile. Yet knowing my woman’s womb is the warm, fruitful holy land for my cum? Fuck me. I cannot stop seeing her in my mind when I’m on work calls or in meetings, the word “fertile” echoing through my mind as I imagine her on her back, legs spread, body open and willing.

“Mr. Parker?” Kennedy calls out, tearing me from my day dream. Jesus Christ, I’ve got zero business daydreaming in meetings with eight-figure clients. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I apologize, adding, “Can’t shake this headache.”

Lies.

Can’t seem to shake these filthy fucking thoughts about my pregnant girlfriend is more like.

“I’ll step out for painkillers?” she offers, but Pen comes through, getting to his feet, working the suit button at his gut.

“We’re through here,” he announces, moving around the room to shake hands with the clients, and I follow suit, eager to get the fuck out of this conference room.

Having Winnie in an office next to mine is such a great idea.

In theory.

Because in actuality, I can’t keep my filthy old man mind off of her. Before she was pregnant, it was largely the same but I did have small pockets of focus and productivity. Now? Knowing my son is growing inside of her? I can’t stop thinking of her. I can’t stop wanting to be near and next to her.

“Did you catch that?” Ken whispers in my ear after the others have huddled at the door to exit.

I shake my head. “What?”

She looks at the glob of businessmen, then back to me. “They’re having a business lunch. Do you want me to add two more seats, for you and Winnie?”

“Fuck no,” I hiss, reaching to adjust my cock before realizing I can’t do that just yet. Thank God I’ve begun going into meetings with my cock tucked into my belt. Otherwise, my daydreams would have me pitching tents for a group of non-campers. “Winnie and I are having lunch in her office.”

Kennedy’s cheeks fill with pink, and I let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry Ken, honestly. I thought the door was locked. I promise, that won’t happen again,” I tell her, apologizing yet again for her walking in on something that was relatively harmless, but something all three of us knew was leading to something very filthy.

I’ve become obsessed with all of Winnie, but her feet milk me in a way that spins me out, I swear. Kennedy popped into her office one day when I was on my knees next to Winnie, who was sitting at her desk. I had one of her heeled feet in my hand, just about to pop her Louboutin off and knead her feet. I love massaging them, knowing how they’re going to work my cock. It’s foreplay giving her a foot rub, I swear.

Ken knew it was gonna turn into something because I am not a man who gets on my knees. Not with that look in my eye, at least.

“It’s fine. I didn’t see anything,” she says, both of us leaving reality unspoken. Normally I’d say she just walked in on a man rubbing his pregnant girlfriend’s feet.

Normally.

But everyone loves Winnie. Including Kennedy. And the two of them have had girl lunches and long dinners, and Winnie has given Kennedy sexual advice on ways to spice up her eight-year marriage that has gone stagnant. She advised Ken to think outside the box, and suggested a few things, including feet.

Kennedy is smart.

And that is why she is currently flushing.

“Okay, well can I send an order out? Should I ask Winnie what she’s in the mood for?” Ken asks as the last of the men finally filter out.

I shake my head, licking my lips as saliva floods the hollow beneath my tongue. I know what I’m eating and I won’t have time for food. “No thanks, Ken. I appreciate it, though.”

I move for the door until I notice Kennedy isn’t moving.

“What?”

She smiles with a little shrug, finally moving toward me. “I’m just glad you met Winnie. You’re so much nicer now.”

“Slow and sweet for me today?” she begs, pushing the strap of her tank off her shoulder, exposing dewy, golden skin.

I nod, my mouth completely fucking dry. I’ve seen her naked in every position imaginable but watching her strip always stops me in my tracks. “Jesus, Winnie, you’re a goddamn Queen. You’re so fucking gorgeous.” I grab my cock through my slacks, shaking the rigid length with a groan. “Look what you do to me, and you aren’t even naked yet.”

Her full lips curve into a seductive smile, her curly hair up in a messy bun that I fucking adore. When she starts to shimmy her tank top down, first exposing swollen, bare breasts to me, my heart rate jumps. Her tits are so much bigger already, at just five months pregnant. I can’t wait to see them when she’s full term, and better yet, nursing. I grip my shaft through the Italian fabric, tugging myself like a horny teen.

I know what’s coming next, and I stroke a few times extra, mouth parted, eyes fixed. Another push and the tank is banded at her hips, putting her beautiful belly on full display.

My boy is in there.

We found out at sixteen weeks; we’re having a boy. I’m going to have a son. Winnie is giving me a son. I still get emotional thinking about this season of my life, and how lucky I’ve become.

“Fuck, baby, that belly is so hot,” I groan, no longer satisfied with touching myself over my clothes. After getting my pesky belt open and my fly down, I reach into my pants and free the monster, tugging on him a few times until opaque cream bubbles up then drips from the head.

Winnie loves watching me touch myself, and in the early weeks of pregnancy, when she was sicker than a dog, sometimes she’d just want me to jerk off for her. In forty-eight years I’d never done that before, but I fucking love watching her watch me.

She sighs, curling her pointer finger at me, coaxing and calling me toward her, nipples stiffening.

When I’m near enough, she takes me by the neck tie, yanking me toward her. Our mouths come together, her hands move through my hair as my palms cover her breasts, our desires passing between us in heated moans and slurred words.

She moves to the desk, and I help her on top, shoving everything irrelevant to the floor, making her giggle. Climbing over her, I slide my hard cock against her full belly as I suck her breast into my mouth, nibbling on the pointed tip as her spine curves and she slaps at my shoulders.

“Yes, oh god,” she moans, feeding her fingers through the back of my hair, holding my head to her breast. My other palm blankets her free breast, kneading it gently as I suckle and nibble, her moans feeding my ego and desires. I thrust against her, the tightness of her round belly making me harder each thrust.

“Fuck! I love your body, you’re so fucking sexy, Win,” I groan, moving my mouth to her other breast, still holding myself above her on my elbow. A bead of creamy goodness appears at the peak of her breast, and I seal my mouth over it, my eyes rolling shut as the sweet flavor explodes on my tongue.

We learned that the more I suck, the sooner the milk comes in. And I’ve been enjoying myself thoroughly. It’s only a few drops but fuck, it has me excited for the future. I love that she urges me to drink her, too. It’s so fucking hot.

“Oh yes, Big Daddy,” she chants, her voice not much more than a wobbly whisper. We’ve perfected keeping it office-level volume.

My cock aches against the hard ridge of her belly, and I know if we keep this up, I’ll be painting her instead of pleasing her. Slowly, I climb off and bring her off the desk with me. Yanking her skirt down, she splays her hands over her desk and bends, giving me access to her bare pussy and full ass. I get on my knees, dig my fingers into her perfectly plump cheeks, her skin so velvety my mouth fills with saliva, and spread her open. Dragging my tongue up her cunt, she moans, slapping at the desk, her head falling forward.

“Oh my god, I’m so sensitive, I’m so swollen, Q,” she moans, the use of my real name but still a nickname making my cock weep. I love when she calls me Big Daddy, but when she calls me Q, it feels intimate, like what my wife would say as I fuck her.

“Come on my face, Win, come on. Gush for me, Mama,” I groan, my heavy cock bobbing, slacks bunched around my thighs against the ground, on my knees. If anyone walked in…

“Yes, oh Q, yes, yes,” she moans, wiggling her cunt into my face, my nose pressed tight in her ass cheeks.

“C’mon, Mama,” I coax, knowing she loves when I call her that, that I made her that. Her hips roll then still, a final cry breaking free from her before she clenches around my tongue, coming in powerful waves, her ass puckering as she grinds against me. Her sweetness fills my mouth, and I swallow, trying my hardest not to come all over the floor… again.

“Fuck me now, please, Q, I need you inside me now,” she whimpers, because pregnant Winnie in the second trimester? Always horny.

I get to my feet, notch myself at her swollen entrance and slide deep inside, holding myself at the hilt as my eyes fall shut. “Fu-uu-uck!” I groan, my voice trembling from how warm and wet she is, how perfectly her cunt seizes up around my cock, threatening to make me spill.

“Touch me,” she whispers, pushing against me with her ass, sending the last inch of me just a bit deeper, nudging the softest, deepest spot inside her. Winnie whines, then begs again, “touch me, Q.”

When I took her from behind, both of us got off rubbing her belly. Something about feeling what we created gets her needy, and turns me to goddamn steel. I place my hands on the sides of her belly, carefully moving them everywhere, slowly, memorizing every inch as I move my hips from behind.

Stroking in and out, I fuck her as I rub her, occasionally kneading her tits, filling my palms with a few stray drops of warm milk. “Hold my belly and rub my clit,” she breathes, her knuckles going white as she tips further over the desk, gripping as I rut into her harder and faster.

With one hand holding the bulk of her sexy, heavy belly, I move the other to her clit, stroking the swollen bead in tight circles, the way she likes.

“Oh yes, Q, fuck yes, baby, you make me feel so good,” she draws out, her voice thin, edges frayed.

“As soon as you give birth,” I groan, sliding inside of her, my cock swollen and thrumming, balls tingling with awareness that this is going to end soon. I’m close. “I’m gonna pump you full again,” I promise her, the pads of my fingers plucking at her swollen bud, making her moan. “I’m gonna keep you pregnant, baby, I’m gonna keep you bred. And I’m gonna get drunk off your tits and eat your pussy and keep you on my cock, happy and taken care of, aren’t I baby?”

Her head bobs up and down, fast, as she moans, “yes, yes, yes! ”

“Q, I’m coming!” she moans, her cunt seizing around my cock, clenching and releasing, over and over, her words unintelligible, bordering on inaudible as she melts on my cock. “Hold it, Q, please,” she begs as she bounces herself on my length, taking her pleasure from me.

Riding it out, she slowly pushes me back and gets on her knees in front of me, sticking out her tongue. “I’m ready for it, Big Daddy.”

Oh yeah. Pregnant Winnie also loves facials.

I stroke myself just once. That’s all it takes. The first rope blankets her face, the next coats her chin and chest, and the last several coat her belly, shiny and smooth. When I’m nothing but twitches and grunts, I help her to her feet and begin guiding her to that bathroom for post-midday messy-nut clean up. Except she stops me, her other kink coming into play.

“Q,” she whimpers, “don’t forget.” She snatches her cell phone from her desk, and hands it to me. Sticking out her tongue, she brings her breasts together, and I step back, adding another photo of her cum-covered tits and belly to the camera roll. We’ve got quite the collection going, and it makes me hard to even think about all the filthy things hiding on our phones. Honestly. I don’t even have to see them and I’m hard. Merely imagining them does it.

Tucking myself away, I re-belt and button my shirt, watching her put her skirt back in place. “Thank you,” I tell her after replacing her cell on her desk and walking her to the en suite bathroom.

“For what?” she questions, pushing a stray curl back into her bun as I smooth a towel over her curves.

“For being a feral horndog with me, for letting me devour and ravage and smother you,” I tell her, sweeping the towel along her cheek, then down her chin and throat.

She smirks, that same smirk she gave me in Brielle’s apartment months back. “Anything for you, Big Daddy.”

I smack her ass as she washes her hands. “Fuckin’ right.”