My Hotwife Journey Pt 38
"Pregnant Cum Slut: The Messiest Wettest Fuck of My Life"

It was straight from the chaos of the kids' weekend sports—muddy shoes, forgotten water bottles, screaming in the car—straight into what I really needed.

A sitter was sorted.
The hotel was booked.
And my pussy? Already leaking.

I didn’t want wine. I didn’t want dinner.
I wanted cock.
I wanted cum.
I wanted to be bred. Again. And again.

My body has been in heat this entire pregnancy. My tits are swollen and tender. My pussy is soaked almost constantly. And the need to be filled—to feel it leaking out of me, running down my thighs, warm and heavy—has been driving me absolutely fucking wild.

So I didn’t waste time.

As soon as I got into the room, I stripped.

Out of my mum clothes, and into something more honest.
Black leather lingerie—tight, slick, barely able to hold my tits or stretch over my belly.
With a matching black thong and a pussy dripping like a walking cum dump in heat.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and couldn’t help but smile.

My belly round. My nipples hard. My thighs slick.
I looked like I’d been fucked already.

I was ready for cock.
And more than that—I was starving for cum.

Not a little. Not a polite fuck and a towel.
I wanted to be flooded.

I wanted it in my pussy. In my mouth. On my belly. On my tits.

I wanted to walk out of that hotel dripping and reeking of cock.

The knock came.

I opened the door—still barefoot, lingerie clinging to my curves, tits nearly spilling out, pussy glistening between my thighs.

He stepped inside. We didn’t waste any time. He pulled his long pants off and kissed me like I was already his.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, legs wide, cock already thick and heavy between them.

I dropped to my knees without a word—exactly where I belonged.

His cock was hard and bigger then hubby’s. Thick, pulsing, veiny—the kind that makes your mouth water just from looking at it.

I knelt between his legs, the soft pressure of my belly brushing against his shins as I leaned forward. It was round, full, tight against the leather of my lingerie, and I could feel the weight of it dragging me forward, making me arch my back naturally as I settled into place.

I wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and looked up at him as I opened my mouth.

He didn’t move. But I saw it—his breath catch, the flicker of a smirk in the way his jaw flexed as I took the first few inches of him between my lips.

Then more.

Then deeper.

My lips stretched around him, my spit already coating his shaft as I started sucking with purpose—long, hungry pulls, using my tongue like I was starving.

And in a way, I was.

My pussy clenched the moment he hit the back of my throat.

Not from being touched. Not from anything other then the pure, desperate thrill of being used.

I moaned around him and felt the vibration ripple through his cock.

His thighs tensed under my hands.

His cock twitched in my mouth.

His balls pulled tighter.

He was trying to stay in control, but I could feel how close I was to making him lose it.

I kept going. Faster. Wetter. Dirtier.

I let my spit run down to his balls, soaking them, then took one in my mouth, sucking it while stroking his shaft and swirling my tongue like it belonged there.

Behind me, I heard a soft moan.

I didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Hubby had got his cock out.

He stood a few feet away, his cock already in his hand, twitching as he stared down at me.

I didn’t stop.

I let the bull’s cock hit the back of my throat again and again, gagging, sucking harder, moaning through every stroke.

My belly shifted with every movement.

Tight and swollen. Tits jiggling as I bobbed my head faster. My thighs pressed together, trying to relieve the heat growing between my legs.

I was soaked just from this.

Just from having my throat used.

Just from knowing how full I’d be by the end of this.

I could already imagine it—my pussy leaking, my belly sticky with cum, my mouth still tasting him.

And this? This was only the beginning.

I pulled off his cock, spit-slick and twitching, and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

Then I climbed up—my knees straddling his thighs, my belly brushing his chest as I hovered above his cock, still wet from my throat.

He held his cock steady, and I reached between us, guiding the thick head to my soaked opening.

I didn’t ease onto him. I lowered myself all at once, letting him stretch me wide as my pussy swallowed him whole.

We both groaned.

He filled me completely, and the stretch was just as good as I’d hoped—thick, hard, deep.

My belly rested against him as I started to move—slow, heavy grinds at first, letting myself adjust to how much of him was inside me.

I could feel him everywhere.

My pussy clenched hard as I began to bounce—each thrust sending a wet slap through the room, the sound of my soaked cunt grinding down onto him echoing off the hotel walls.

I placed my hands on his chest for balance, tits bouncing free from the leather cups with every bounce.

My belly moved with me, heavy and proud, and I didn’t try to hide it—I wanted him to see it.

To see what he was fucking.

To know he was buried inside a cum-hungry, knocked-up hotwife who couldn’t get enough cock.

I looked over at hubby, still standing nearby in his pink panties, his cock in his hand, trembling as he watched me ride another man like I was made for it.

His eyes were locked on the place where I took him—the way my pussy spread open around that cock, the way my thighs quivered with every grind.

“Look at me,” I said in my head, not even needing to say it aloud.

Because he was.

At one point, I slowed my rhythm—still grinding, still full, but suddenly needing more.

I leaned forward, slowly rising off his cock, feeling it slip free with a thick trail of cum stretching from my pussy to his lap.

I turned, shifted, and dropped back down between his legs, face first into the slick mess I had left on his cock.

His cock was coated—in me, in him.

I took him into my mouth again, licking the warm mess off his shaft.

I tasted myself. Tasted the breeding.

I licked under the head, sucked the tip, then dragged my tongue down to his balls and cleaned him like a slut who knew her place.

And that’s when I felt it—hubby behind me.

He had moved up silently, his cock hard again, still wrapped in his little pink panties that had been soaked through with precum.

I didn’t stop sucking.

And hubby didn’t wait.

He slid into me from behind, slowly, carefully, and gasped the second his cock disappeared into my cum-filled pussy.

The squelch was audible.

He was fucking a hole that had already been stretched—and it was still leaking.

His strokes were short and desperate.

I was spitroasted. Again.

A pregnant hotwife with her mouth full and so was her pussy.

This was where I thrived.

I moaned around the cock in my mouth as my husband picked up pace behind me, both of them using me from either end.

And it wasn’t even close to over yet.

I pushed myself up indicating for Hubby to stop fucking me.

I got back on him and started bouncing faster.

Harder.

Grinding my clit down onto him with each drop, my wetness squelching with every thrust, his cock hitting the deepest part of me.

I was so full. So tight. So fucking ready.

I was grinding down onto him, soaked and breathless, my belly swaying with every bounce. He gripped my hips tighter—and then shifted beneath me.

He wanted a better view.

He leaned back, lifted me slightly, and turned me around.

Reverse cowgirl.

Now my belly faced out, heavy and beautiful. My hands braced against his thighs as I sank back down on his cock.

My ass met his lap with a wet smack, and I started riding him again, this time letting him watch every ripple, every bounce, every inch of me take him deep.

Behind me, I could hear his breathing change.

I arched my back, shoved my hips harder down onto him, and locked eyes with my husband standing right in front of me.

He stood there in his pink panties, one hand gripping his cock.

He watched, helpless and aroused, as another man bred his wife.

And then—it happened.

I felt the cock inside me throb, pulse, swell—

And then explode.

He groaned beneath me, hips jerking, burying himself deep as the first rope of cum shot inside me.

Then another.

And another.

Hot, thick, flooding my pussy like I had never felt before.

It was the biggest load I had ever taken.

So much that I felt it push back out with every twitch, spilling from my stretched pussy and dripping down over his balls and onto the sheets below.

I didn’t stop moving.

I kept grinding through it, moaning with every gush, my ass still bouncing, my hole overflowing.

And I never took my eyes off my husband.

He watched the entire thing.

Watched me be filled. Flooded. Owned.

I finally lifted myself off his cock, slowly, teasingly, letting his thick shaft slip free with a loud, wet pop.

The moment I moved, a rush of cum poured out of me—hot, thick, white, oozing down my thighs in messy strings and dripping onto the bed.

I was an absolute wreck.

My inner thighs glistened. His cock was still slick and twitching, glistening with the mix of my arousal and the massive load he’d just pumped into me.

And my pussy?

Still wide open. Still leaking.

I shuffled forward until I was at the edge of the bed.

“You can do a little clean up before you add your own little mess.”

Hubby dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed like he’d been waiting for the command.

Still wearing his pink panties, his cock twitching uselessly, he leaned in and pressed his tongue to my dripping pussy, groaning as he tasted the mess.

His tongue lapped at my folds, desperate to collect every drop. He buried his face in me, licking along the seam, trying to scoop the cum out with slow, circular motions, sucking gently on my opening like he was trying to pull it out.

He moaned with every taste, worshipping the aftermath of what I’d been given.

And I just lay there, smiling to myself.

Because no matter how hard he tried—he wasn’t getting it all.

He thought he was cleaning me up.

But he had no idea just how much cum was still inside me.

No idea how much had soaked deep into me—into the places his cock could never reach.

He was licking the surface. But I had been bred.

And I was still full.

After he finished licking me—tongue soft and slow, like he was trying to savour every drop—I rolled onto my back and looked at him.

His cheeks were flushed, his pink lacey panties clinging wetly to the outline of his cock.

He looked wrecked. Desperate. And so, so eager.

I smiled and straddled him.

The moment I sank onto him, I moaned. Loud.

Because my pussy was still soaked—still leaking from the load I’d just taken, and as I sat down, I felt all of it move inside me.

His cock swam through the mess, the wet squelch of his entry making both of us gasp.

I started riding him slowly at first, letting him feel it all.

The way my walls gripped him.
The way his cock slid through another man’s cum.
The way my pussy didn’t stop leaking.

My belly bounced above him, tits jiggling with every movement as I rode my husband with the mess still inside me.

I leaned back, giving him the full view of my body—leather clinging to my curves, belly high and proud, my pussy stretched and used.

He grabbed my hips, tried to thrust up into me, but I pinned him down.

This was my ride.

And I made sure he knew it.

Every bounce pushed out more cum, every grind smeared it across his cock and his soaked panties.

When I felt him twitching beneath me, I slid off, licked my lips, and dropped between his legs.

I sucked him deep, slow, sloppy.

The taste hit my tongue immediately—not just him, but the mix of everything.

His cock coated in my juices, his spit, and the thick, salty cream of the man who had fucked me first.

I moaned around him as I sucked, letting him twitch in my mouth, my tongue swirling under his shaft as I made sure he felt just how much I loved tasting it all.

And then—I turned over.

Got on all fours.

Ass up. Belly swinging.

I looked back at him. He was already climbing behind me.

He entered me again—his cock sinking into a pussy that had already taken the biggest load everand this time it was too much.

The wet sounds were obscene.

His cock pumped into me, stirring the mess, cum slapping against his thighs, dripping onto the bed.

He grabbed my hips tighter and fucked me like he couldn’t stop—moaning, whimpering and thrusting.

And then he came.

Hard. Deep.

I could feel it—a fresh wave of warmth added to the pool already inside me, mixing, overflowing, soaking the sheets, running down my thighs.

I collapsed forward, my body exhausted, my belly tight and glowing, my pussy absolutely overflowing with cum.

Two loads.

Two of the biggest loads.

And I still wasn’t done.

We finally collapsed—sweaty, used, panting.

I sat on the side of the bed, thighs still spread, and every shift of my hips made a wet squelch.

My pussy was that full.

I could feel it leaking down my thighs, thick and constant, and both of them just stared—admiring what they’d done to me. Not only that but it literally squelched every time I moved.

My pussy was absolutely wrecked.

We talked quietly for a bit, catching our breath. Casual words, lazy laughs. But even then, I could feel it…

The weight of the cum inside me. The stretch. The warmth.

It wouldn’t stop leaking.

I reached between my legs, slid two fingers through the slick mess, and rubbed myself slowly, still swollen, still soaked. And casually I played with all the cum that was still inside me.

That was all it took.

They were watching again.

And suddenly, we were all touching ourselves.

The room filled with the wet sounds of skin, breath, and the slick strokes of overstimulated, cum-dripping desire.

Round two had begun.

He stood up. I dropped to my knees, sucked him hard, fast, deep. No teasing. No warmup.

I needed it.

Then he turned me around and placed me gently onto the bed.

My legs spread he slowly slid into me.

Cum sprayed out of my pussy with every thrust.

Literally—splattering onto the sheets, dripping to the floor, flinging out with every hard slap of his hips into mine.

He held my hips tight, fucked me harder then before, using my already-bred cunt like it was still his.

And it was.

I moaned—every thrust forcing more of his first load out of me, making space to use me all over again.

Eventually he groaned, pulled out, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

I crawled to him, still leaking, and took his cock into my mouth, working him fast.

My tits pressed together, slick with sweat and leftover cum, and I looked up at him as I sucked like the hungry, messy slut I was.

He finished with a grunt—thick streams splashing across my chest, coating my tits in his second load.

It dripped down my belly.

Seconds later, hubby stepped forward, stroking furiously—his eyes locked on the mess covering me—and added his own second load to the mix.

More cum across my tits. More dripping down.

I didn’t move. I just let it happen. Let it cover me. Let it claim me.

And when it was finally quiet again, I sat back, looked at myself, and smiled.

My pussy was still leaking.

I could feel it in me—deep, thick, hot.

Four loads. Two men. One ruined, dripping, cum-stuffed slut.

And I’ve never been more satisfied.

Or more in awe of what this body can take.