Beneath the Uncut Throb

You’ve got me pinned on my back on the living room floor, my stubby legs kicked wide, my pregnant belly a tight, pale globe between us. I’m so tiny and soaked beneath you, Peter, and your huge body swallows the light. Your uncut cock is out, and I’m fucking drooling. It’s thick as my wrist, the foreskin hooded and glossy, veins pulsing along the shaft like cables. I’m a whore for uncut cocks—the way the skin drags back, the way it pockets all that hot spunk inside. My bald cunt is already gushing, so tight and slippery, and I’ve been brimming with your cum for days. You keep me that way, don’t you? Every time you ram into me, you pump more in, and it never stops spilling out of my swollen little hole.. Is it always like that?”

“For you, Carole,” you say, and your voice is low, rough. “It never stops. It’s always pulsing, always leaking. Feel it.”

You guide my hand to your shaft, and I wrap my fingers around it—or try to. It’s too thick, my hand can’t close. The skin is hot, and under my palm, I feel the steady throb, the blood pumping through those thick veins. The foreskin is loose, and when I push it up, a bead of pre-cum pearls at the tip. I moan just looking at it. I’m already so full of you from this morning, my pussy sloshing with liters of your semen, but I need more. I always need more.

“I love how uncut you are,” I whisper, my thumb tracing the ridge where the foreskin meets the head. “It’s like a fucking gift. All that cum just sits in there, waiting.”

You groan, and your hips jerk. “You want to see what’s waiting?”

I nod, and you lean over me, your cock bobbing heavy. You take your foreskin between your fingers and pull it forward, stretching it out until it’s a pouch. Then you push it against my belly, right next to my popped navel, and I feel the wet heat of it. You start filling it, your dick pulsing harder, and I watch the skin balloon with thick, white cum. It’s so much, always so much, and you don’t stop until the pouch is taut and heavy.

“Fuck, Peter,” I breathe. “That’s so hot. Let me drink it.”

You bring your cock to my mouth, and I open wide. You peel the foreskin back slow, and the cum pours onto my tongue in a thick, salty flood. I swallow, but it keeps coming, spilling down my chin, dripping onto my tits. My nipples are tiny and pink, hard from the air, and when the cum hits them, I gasp. I’m lactating a little, thin drops of milk beading at the tips, and you notice. You always notice.

“Your nipples,” you say, and your thumb smears the cum and milk together on my skin. “They’re so fucking sensitive. I remember the first time you rubbed them on my cock.”

I remember too. I was on your couch, drunk and sleepy, but I knew what I wanted. I pulled my shirt up and pressed my tits around your shaft, my nipples dragging along the veins. You came so hard, your foreskin bursting with it, and I licked every drop. Now, I’m eight months pregnant, my belly huge, my pussy always flooded, and I still can’t get enough.

“Put it in me,” I say, my voice a whine. “I need to feel it throbbing inside.”

You position yourself between my legs, and I reach down to spread my pussy lips. I’m so wet, but it’s not just my wetness—it’s your cum from before, thick and slick, coating my folds. My clit is swollen, and when you press the head of your cock against it, I shudder. You’re so thick, the foreskin bunched, and you push in slow. Even with all the cum inside me, it’s a stretch. My pussy is tight, so tight, and your dick is like a fucking bottle. I cry out, my hands clawing at the floor, but I don’t tell you to stop. I never do.

“Fuck, Carole,” you grunt, your hips sinking deeper. “Your pussy is so full. I can feel it—all the cum I’ve pumped into you. It’s sloshing around my cock. I can feel my foreskin rubbing in it.”

I can feel it too. The wet, squelching sound as you move, the way my pussy is so packed with semen that it leaks out around your shaft with every thrust. Your cock throbs inside me, that constant pulse, and I clench around it. My inner walls are soft, stretched, and every vein on your dick drags against me. You’re so deep, your foreskin pulling back and forth, and I know you’re feeling everything—the heat, the slickness, the way my body is just a vessel for your cum.

“Tell me,” I gasp. “Tell me what it feels like.”

You lean down, your chest pressing against my belly, and your breath is hot on my neck. “It’s like fucking a jar of warm cream,” you say, your voice strained. “Your pussy is so tight around me, but it’s so wet with my own cum. I can feel my foreskin sliding in it, filling up with it every time I pull back. And when I push in, it’s like my cock is swimming in you. All that semen, Carole—it’s dripping out of your mouth, out of your pussy, and I just keep adding more.”

I moan, my head thrashing. “I love it. I love being your cumdump. Don’t stop. Never stop.”

You fuck me harder, your hips slamming against mine, and my body jolts with each thrust. My tits bounce, milk and cum spraying from my nipples. You grab one, squeezing, and a thin stream of milk hits your chest. You groan, and your cock throbs even harder inside me. I can feel it building, the pressure of your orgasm, and I know what’s coming. More cum. Gallons of it, filling me until I’m leaking for days.

“I’m going to cum,” you grit out. “I’m going to fill your pussy so full you’ll taste it in your throat.”

“Do it,” I beg. “Flood me.”

You bury yourself deep, your foreskin pulling tight, and then you explode. I feel it—a hot, thick gush that fills every inch of me. Your cock pulses and pulses, and the cum just keeps coming. My belly feels fuller, tighter, and I can hear the wet sound of it sloshing inside me. You pull out slow, and a torrent of white follows, pooling on the floor under my ass. But you’re not done. You never are.

You straddle my chest, your cock still hard, still throbbing, and you press your foreskin over my nipple. You fill it again, letting the cum mix with my milk, and then you peel it back so I can drink. I suck at the tip, my tongue digging into the slit, and you moan above me.

“Your mouth is so good,” you say. “But I love your pussy more. It’s always so full of me. I can’t wait to fill it again tomorrow.”

I smile up at you, cum dripping from my lips. “And I can’t wait to talk about it. I’ll tell everyone how your uncut cock throbs inside me, how your foreskin traps all that cum. They’ll be so jealous.”

You laugh, a deep, satisfied sound, and you roll off me. We lie there on the floor, naked and sticky, my pussy still leaking, your cock still pulsing. I feel warm and heavy, my body a testament to your endless desire. And I know, as I drift off with your cum drying on my skin, that tomorrow will be the same. You’ll