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Daddy Surrogate II

“You should have told me what you needed, Meg.”

Sam’s rummaging through his present, a new Vetelli leather toiletry case. He examines the straps and buckles. I’ve fortified the contents with all sorts of goodies; a Bevel shave kit complete with razor, priming oil, shaving cream, and a brush. There’s also some sandalwood face balm for softening his cheeks.

“Sam, you don’t have time for my little issues, what with your traveling around the world and all that.”

I’m brushing my teeth, spitting in the sink, glancing at him in the mirror. We’ve just gotten out of bed where he pounded me breathless.

“That’s total bullshit, and you know it, Meg,” he retorts.

I don’t argue with him. I never argue with Sam. When I finally messaged my dilemma, he came running; canceled his appointments and scribbled me into his calendar – over and over.

“As many times as it takes,” He said. “Maybe more than that.” I’m nearly at due date and Sam’s still fucking the shit out of me.

My hubby, Andy, still thinks the baby is his. After months without success, I checked on his sperm count; jerked him off myself for a sample of sea foam.  Turns out I’ve been wasting money on birth control. The boy is shooting blanks. He’s totally oblivious.

Sam furrows his brows. “And another thing,” he continues. “Stop with the expensive birthday presents. I’m the one who buys things around here. Not you. Is that understood?”

I smirk, hanging up my toothbrush.

Sam is stirring his shaving cream with his shaving brush, leaning towards the mirror. He dabs it on his face. “I’ve never used one of these before.”

“Who taught you how to shave, Sam? Your dad?”

“I taught myself, thank you.”

“Oh. Of course, you did, Mr. self-reliant….   Sorry, Doctor self-reliant.”

“Nothing wrong with being self-reliant, Meg.” He finishes his dabbing. His face is a frosty froth with intermingled stubble. He picks up his razor.

I hop up on the counter directly in front of him. I’m still in my robe.

“Here, let me do that,” grabbing the razor from his hand. I give it a swish in the sink where I’ve added hot water. Sam looks at me cautiously.

“When’s the last time you shaved someone?”

“Well, it’s been several years, actually.” I pull Sam in close, wrap my legs around his waist. His thighs press against the counter. He’s still naked. “I think it was Andy on the morning after we first fucked.”

“When you were still in college?” Sam lifts his chin. I stroke the razor smoothly down the side of his face, then vigorously wash it off in the sink. I repeat.

“Yea. We had just met a few days earlier. Well, maybe that was more like thirty-six hours.”

“Did you nick him at all?” Sam seems slightly agitated. Perhaps he’s worried about my technique. Perhaps he doesn’t want to hear about Andy.

“Not once, sweetie.” I pause with a smile, then continue my work. The blade is new. The tracks of my razor are baby smooth, perfectly aligned. “I forgot how sensual this is.”

“What do you mean?” Sam turns his face for me to get the other side. He tightens his lip as I work on his chin.

“Shaving a man,” I reply. “Don’t you like it – for me to shave you?”

“I suppose.”

“You suppose?” I hesitate, contemplating the appropriate angle of approach.

“Yes, Meg. I like it. A lot.”

Sam unties my robe. He opens it widely and studies my body. My belly’s protruding. My breasts are engorged. My nipples are fuchsia.

“Haven’t you seen enough of me yet?” I’m adjusting my butt. My pussy is dribbling. He’s already fucked me twice just this morning.

“This is what I like most, Meg.” He’s squeezing my tits. He’s rolling my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, expressing my milk.

“Now, you’re living dangerously, Sam.” I’m still trying to concentrate. The vessels in his neck are bounding. The razor is trembling.

“I trust you,” He smiles. “You’ve never made a nick. You said so yourself.”

“You’re distracting me, Sam.”

He kneads my breasts harder, pulling on my buds and twisting them gently. Milk streams down my chest and drips on my swollen belly. He smears it across my abdomen, licking his fingers. “You’re so full of it, Meg.”

“Keep that up and I won’t be.”

“The beauty of it is that you’ll just make more.” Sam beams with excitement. He’s making a mess of me.

Finished with my task, I wipe off his face with a towel.

Sam is drawing ringlets in milk on my belly; little hearts, Cupid’s arrows…. little cocks.

Cocks with erections. Cocks with balls. A big cock between my tits.

“Is it playtime, Sam? Arts and crafts?”

“No,” He exclaims. “It’s snack time.” And with that, dips his head for a mouthful of melon – my melons! Meek as they may be, they’re bigger than they were before I got pregnant.

He sucks with a vengeance, his teeth and his tongue and his massaging lips. I’m pouring into his mouth. It’s running down his chin.

“Fuck!” I exhale deeply.

“What was that, Megan?” He’s taking a short break – maybe just a second.

I lean back against the mirror. Sam rips off my robe. I’m a preggo in a milk bath. He smears me like butter. Cream curdles on my skin.

“Now, it’s my turn,” he says.

“For what?” I’m still leaking.

“To give you a shave.”

“What? Where?”

“Right here.” He points to my little muff.  My tiny heart.

“But Andy likes that…”

“All the more reason.”

A handful of cream…. a razor… my thighs draped over his shoulders.  He kisses my clit.  He swipes off my curls.  I’m bald. I’m slick.  I’m panting.

Sam rises to his feet.  He’s standing between my legs.

“You’re hard again? How many times can you do this?” I ask.

He aims.  He thrusts.  He spears…. heart deep.

I gasp.  I shudder.  I spread my legs wider.

“You should have told me what you needed, Meg.”

“I know, Sam.  Now I need something else…”

“And what’s that?” He shoves his dick deeper, drives my back against the mirror.

“For you to punish my pussy for cheating.”

“You did what you had to do, Meg.” Sam’s reaming my cunt. His dick’s twice as big as my husband’s.  I’m coming all over his cock.

“I did what I wanted to do, Sam.” My voice is breathy and desperate.  I’m starting to contract.  I’m going into labor.  My pussy explodes like a tidal wave.  Sam has broken my water in a massive climax.  I’ve flooded the floor.  He’s soaked in my baby juice.

“Sam!” I exclaim, gasping for breath. “You’ve got to take me to the hospital. I’m gonna have your daughter.”

“You have to call your husband, Meg.  He has to meet you there.  Do you understand?  He has to be with you.  Not me.”

I’m trembling on the counter.  Sam’s cock is inside me. “I know.  I know.  But I don’t want you to leave me.”

“It’s the right thing to do, Meg.” He’s pulling out of me slowly. “It’s what we have to do.”

Sam’s shaft is harder than ever; thick and long, throbbing and angry.

“Sam, just do me one favor before we go.”

“What’s that, Meg?”

I pull his cock back between my legs.

“Come inside me one last time, Sam.  Shoot your load in my cunt.”

At the hospital, they roll me to labor and delivery.  My feet are up in the stirrups.  My legs are spread wide.  My husband is holding my hand.  My gash is contracting.

Dried milk has crusted my belly.  There are etchings of hearts and cocks.  Thick cum is clinging to my labial lips and streaming down my crack.  My breasts are still lactating.  My nipples have teeth marks.  My clit is a purple berry, weeping and pulsating.

“Should she push, doctor?”  My husband inquires timidly.

Between my legs, the sparkling green eyes are familiar.  The mask camouflages his smile.  His thumb is circling my sensitive button.  His finger is massaging my G Spot.

“Let me see,” says the doctor, “how dilated she is.”

I stare as he probes me, pumping my pussy.

“She’s having a contraction,” The good doctor reports.  “You should hold her hand tightly.”

I’m convulsing uncontrollably.  I’m squirting.  I’m screaming.  Andy falls to the floor, unconscious.

“I thought he would never pass out,” I tell the doctor.  He pulls down his mask and smiles.

“Would you like to come again, or are you ready to deliver?”  He asks.

I take a quick glance at my husband on the floor.  The nurses are frozen in disbelief.

“I want to suck your cock, Sam.  Get up here on the table and shove it down my throat.  Give me a sixty-nine delivery!”

He does just that.  I swallow him frantically as I push out my baby.  He catches my daughter as he creams in my mouth.

“You plant; you harvest,” I whisper as he hands me my bundle.  Andy is waking up.  Sam wipes away the cum from the corners of my mouth.

“How about a little sister?”  He asks.

    What do you think?

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