Veins and Velvet

The morning started with a cramp in my calf and a puddle between my thighs. I'd been dreaming about cocks again — specific ones, with specific veins and specific foreskins — and my body had apparently decided to prepare itself for the dream version of events. The sheets under me were soaked clear through to the mattress. I lay there on my back, belly up like a beached whale, and stared at the ceiling fan wobbly overhead. The baby kicked. I kicked back, internally, and then rolled myself upright with the grace of a walrus on a ice slide.

Bobby was in the kitchen. I could smell coffee and hear the low rumble of his voice talking to someone. I waddled in naked, because clothes had become a theoretical concept at this point in the pregnancy, and found him at the counter with Peter. Both of them were shirtless. Bobby was in his boxers, and Peter was in a pair of grey sweatpants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The head of his cock was visible through the fabric, that fat shiny dome pushing against the cotton, and there was a dark wet spot where his slit had been leaking.

"Morning," I said.

Both men turned. Bobby's eyes dropped to my belly, then lower, where my thighs were still slick with whatever my body had produced overnight. Peter's eyes went straight to my tits, which had gotten even bigger since yesterday. They were swollen, heavy, the areolas dark and puffy, and I could see milk beads forming at the tips just from the cool air hitting them.

"You're leaking," Peter said.

"I'm always leaking. Pick a hole, I'm probably leaking from it." I grabbed a mug from the counter and poured myself coffee. "Where's Six?"

"Shower," Bobby said. "He said he'd be out in a minute."

I took a sip of coffee and looked at them both. Bobby was leaning against the counter, his boxers tented. Peter was sitting at the table, and his cock had started throbbing visibly through his sweatpants — I could see the fabric jumping with each pulse. His dick was always doing that. Always throbbing. Like it had its own heart that never took a break.

"I've been thinking," I said.

"Dangerous," Bobby said.

"I want you both in my mouth. Right now. And I want Six to watch."

Peter's cock throbbed so hard it lifted the waistband of his sweatpants. A fresh wet spot bloomed on the fabric.

"Then I want all three of you to take turns on me. One after another. And I want every single one of you to come inside me each time. I want to be full of cum by the time we're done. I want it pouring out of me. I want so much of it that I can't even close my legs."

Bobby set down his coffee. "All three of us? Three times each?"

"Did I stutter?"

Peter stood up and shoved his sweatpants down. His cock sprang free, and it was already dripping, a long string of pre-cum stretching from his slit to the floor. The head was enormous — shiny, purple, wet — and the foreskin was rolled back halfway, exposing the ridge where it bunched up thick and dark. The veins running up the shaft were fat and visible, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.

Bobby pushed his boxers down too. His cock was long and lean compared to Peter's, the foreskin still covering the head completely, the tip of it just peeking out. A bead of pre-cum sat at the opening, and when I reached over and squeezed it, the droplet ran down my finger.

"On your knees," I said, and they both moved.

I lowered myself to the kitchen floor, the tile cold against my knees, and took a cock in each hand. Peter's was so thick my fingers couldn't wrap all the way around it. I could feel the veins against my palm, each one a raised ridge, and they were pulsing — actually pulsing, pushing against my skin with each throb. Bobby's was longer, thinner, and the foreskin moved under my fingers like a silk sleeve.

I pulled Bobby's foreskin forward, stretching it past the head, then pushed it back slowly. The head emerged, wet and pink, and another bead of pre-cum welled up from his slit. I did it again, slower, watching the skin slide. Then I did the same to Peter, but his foreskin was tighter, and the head underneath was so much bigger that the skin stretched thin over it. When I pulled it back, the head popped out with a soft sound, and Peter groaned.

"Your foreskin is so tight," I said. "It barely fits over this head. It's like trying to put a rubber glove over a grapefruit."

"Fuck," Peter said.

I pressed their cocks together. Bobby's longer shaft alongside Peter's thick one, the heads touching, pre-cum mixing where their tips met. I pulled Bobby's foreskin forward and wrapped it over both their heads, creating a little pocket of skin holding them together. Pre-cum pooled inside, and I could see it through the translucent skin, a cloudy white fluid bathing both their heads.

"Holy shit," Bobby said. "I can feel his head against mine. It's so fucking big. It's pushing against my slit."

"I can feel his foreskin," Peter said. "It's wrapped around my head. It's so warm and wet. It's like being inside a pussy."

I peeled the foreskin back and watched their heads emerge, both shining with each other's pre-cum. I rubbed them together, my thumb circling the point where they touched, smearing the slick fluid around. Peter's cock throbbed and a jet of pre-cum shot out, hitting Bobby's shaft and running down it in a thick white rope.

"He's ejaculating on your dick," I said to Bobby.

"I can feel it," Bobby said. "It's so hot. It's hitting my vein."

I leaned forward and took both heads in my mouth. My jaw stretched wide, and even then I could only fit the tips. I licked the space between them, tasting pre-cum and skin and the salt of sweat. I ran my tongue under Peter's ridge, then under Bobby's foreskin, sliding it between the skin and the head. Bobby's hips bucked. Peter's hand found the back of my head.

I sucked, my cheeks hollowing, and both men cursed at the same time. I pulled back, a thick string of saliva and pre-cum connecting my mouth to their cocks. "I need these inside me," I said. "Right now."

The shower shut off down the hall. Six appeared in the doorway a minute later, a towel around his waist, his cock clearly hard underneath it. He took one look at the scene — me on my knees, two cocks in my hands, pre-cum everywhere — and dropped the towel.

"Started without me," he said.

"You can watch the first round," I said. "Then you're up."

I lay back on the kitchen floor, and Peter knelt between my legs first. He pushed the head of his cock against my opening, and even though I was soaking wet, the stretch made me gasp. He was so thick that my pussy had to stretch around him in stages — first the head, then the ridge, then the shaft, inch by inch, until his balls were pressed against my ass and I could feel him throbbing inside me. Every vein. Every pulse. It was like being filled with a living thing.

"Fuck, you're tight," Peter said. "You're always so fucking tight."

"Because your cock is the size of a baseball bat," I said. "Now fuck me."

He started moving, and each thrust ground his head against my cervix. I could feel the foreskin sliding back and forth inside me, the ridge of it catching on my walls, and the veins were like fingers pressing against me from the inside. Pre-cum was pouring out of him — I could feel it, hot and slick, mixing with my own wetness.

"Now put Bobby in too," I said.

Bobby knelt beside Peter, and I felt his cock pressing against my entrance alongside Peter's. The head slipped in first, then the shaft, and the stretch doubled. I screamed — not pain, just overwhelming fullness. I could feel them pressing against each other inside me, Peter's thick veiny shaft against Bobby's long smooth one, and Bobby's foreskin was sliding over Peter's head with each thrust.

"I can feel your foreskin," Peter said to Bobby. "It's wrapped around my head. It's like your skin is jerking me off inside her pussy."

"I can feel your veins," Bobby said. "They're grinding against my shaft. Every time you throb, I feel it."

They started moving together, then alternating — Peter in while Bobby pulled back, then Bobby in while Peter pulled back. The friction was incredible. I could feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse. Their cocks were rubbing together inside me, and I could feel the pre-cum building up, pooling inside me, mixing with my own juices.

"I can feel both of you," I said. "Peter, your head is pressing against my cervix. It's so big. And Bobby, your foreskin is sliding over Peter's cock, and it's like there's a third thing inside me — your skin, moving back and forth. I can feel your veins pulsing against my walls, Peter. And Bobby, I can feel your ridge catching on my entrance every time you pull out."

"She's squeezing," Bobby said. "Fuck, she's getting tighter."

"I'm going to come," Peter said.

"Do it," I said. "Come inside me. I want to feel it."

Peter's cock swelled, and then I felt it — the first pulse. It was strong, a thick jet of semen hitting my cervix, and it was so hot it felt like it was burning. Then another pulse, and another, each one a separate jet, and I could feel his cock throbbing against Bobby's shaft, the pulses pushing against each other. Bobby groaned.

"I can feel you coming," Bobby said. "Your cock is pulsing against mine. I can feel the semen — it's so hot."

Peter kept thrusting, even as he came, and each thrust pushed more semen deeper inside me. I could feel it building up, filling me, and when he finally stopped, I was already overflowing. Cum was leaking out around their cocks, running down my ass, pooling on the tile.

Bobby started thrusting harder, his cock sliding through Peter's cum, and the wet sound was obscene. His foreskin was moving faster, and I could feel it bunching up inside me on each thrust, then sliding back on each pull. His cock throbbed, and then he came too — a long, pulsing ejaculation that I could feel jet by jet, hot and thick, mixing with Peter's cum already inside me.

"He's coming," I said. "I can feel it. Bobby, your cock is pulsing. Each pulse is another jet. I can feel them hitting my walls. It's so hot. There's so much."

When Bobby pulled out, a gush of cum followed — thick, white, pouring out of me in a flood. It ran down my thighs and pooled on the floor. I looked at Six, who was standing against the wall, stroking himself slowly, his foreskin sliding back and forth over his long, thick cock.

"Your turn," I said. "Bend me over the couch."

He moved fast. He grabbed my arm, pulled me up from the floor, and walked me to the couch. I bent over the arm, my belly hanging, my tits swaying, and I felt his cock press against my entrance. He pushed in, and the stretch was different — he was as thick as a broom handle, just like he always said, and longer than both the others. He reached places that made my vision blur.

"Fuck, you're full of cum," he said. "It's so wet. It's like sliding into warm soup."

He fucked me hard, his hips slapping against my ass, his cock throbbing inside me with each thrust. I could feel his veins — fat, pulsing ropes that pressed against my walls. His foreskin slid back and forth, and the sensation was like a fourth hand inside me, massaging me from the inside.

"I'm going to come," I said. "Don't stop."

He didn't. He fucked me through my orgasm, and I could feel my pussy clenching around him, milking him, and he groaned and thrust deep and came. His cock pulsed — once, twice, three times, each one a thick jet that I could feel hitting my cervix. More cum, mixing with the rest, filling me up even more.

When he pulled out, I was a mess. Cum poured out of me in a steady stream, dripping onto the couch cushion, pooling on the floor. My thighs were coated. My pussy was swollen and red and gaping, and I could feel the cum sloshing inside me with every movement.

"One down," I said. "Two more to go each."

"Jesus Christ," Bobby said.

But they did it. Peter fucked me on the couch next, his thick cock spreading me open again, and Bobby stood in front of me and I sucked him while Peter pounded me from behind. I could taste my own pussy on Bobby's cock, and Peter's cum, and Bobby's cum, all mixed together. Peter came inside me with a groan, his cock pulsing so hard I could count the jets — seven of them, each one thick and hot, and I felt every single one.

Then Bobby fucked me while I sucked Peter, and Peter's cock was so sensitive after coming that he was twitching every time my tongue moved. Bobby came inside me with a long, shuddering groan, his cock pulsing six times, each jet weaker than the last but still thick and hot. I swallowed Peter's pre-cum and licked his foreskin and squeezed his head with my lips until he was hard again.

Six took me again, this time on the floor, missionary, and he lasted even longer the second time. He fucked me slow and deep, and I could feel every inch of him, every vein, every throb. When he came, his cock pulsed eight times — I counted — and each jet was as thick as the first. Cum was pouring out of me by then, a constant stream, and the rug underneath me was soaked through.

Round three. Peter bent me over the coffee table. Bobby stood in front of me. Six watched from the couch, stroking himself. Peter's cock split me open again, and I screamed around Bobby's cock as Peter fucked me harder than he had all day. His balls slapped against my clit, and his cock throbbed inside me, and I could feel the cum from the previous rounds being pushed out with each thrust, splattering on the table, on the floor, everywhere.

Peter came first, flooding me again, and his cock pulsed so hard this time that I could feel each jet individually — ten of them, each one a distinct throb, each one a hot splash against my cervix. Bobby came in my mouth, his cock pulsing against my tongue, and his semen was thick and salty and there was so much of it that I couldn't swallow fast enough. It ran down my chin, onto my tits, mixing with the milk that was leaking from my nipples.

Six finished last. He took me on the couch, my legs over his shoulders, and he fucked me so deep that I could feel his cock in my throat. He came with a shout, his cock pulsing nine times, and by the final pulse I was so full of cum that it was gushing out of me with each thrust, spraying against his stomach, running down my ass, soaking into the couch cushions.

When he pulled out, I just lay there. Cum was everywhere — inside me, outside me, on every surface in the room. My pussy was a gaping, swollen mess, and the cum was flowing out of me in a steady river, pooling on the couch, dripping onto the floor. I'd been creampied nine times total, and my body was letting all of it go in a slow, continuous flood.

I looked down at myself. Belly up, tits leaking, thighs coated, cum still pouring out of my pussy in thick white streams. The baby kicked.

"I think the baby's hungry," I said.

"The baby's been hungry for nine creampies," Bobby said from the floor, where he was lying in a puddle of sweat and cum.

"Nine?" Peter said. "I lost count after six."

"It was nine," Six said. He was leaning against the arm of the couch, his cock finally soft — for the first time all day — hanging thick and heavy between his legs, the foreskin covering the head completely, a bead of cum still sitting at the tip.

I squeezed my pussy, and a gush of cum poured out. "There's enough in there to feed a small village," I said.

"You're going to be dripping for a week," Bobby said.

"Good," I said. "I want to feel it every time I move. I want to sit down tomorrow and have cum squeeze out of me and remember exactly what each of you felt like inside me." I paused. "Peter, your cock throbbed ten times on that last one. I counted."

"You counted?" Peter said.

"I always count. I'm keeping a scoreboard."

Six laughed. "What's the score?"

"Peter: thirty-one pulses total. Bobby: twenty-six. Six: thirty-four." I grinned. "Six wins."

"That's not fair," Bobby said. "I was distracted by her mouth."

"Excuses," I said. "Take it up with the judges."

I waddled to the bathroom, cum running down my legs with every step, leaving a trail of white droplets on the floor. I looked back at the three of them — naked, spent, covered in sweat and each other's fluids — and smiled.

"Same time next week?" I asked.

"Every week until that baby comes," Peter said.

"And after," Bobby added.

"And after," Six agreed.

I shut the bathroom door and looked down at the mess between my legs. Cum was still leaking out, thick and slow, and I could feel my pussy twitching, already wanting more. The baby kicked again.

"Your mom's a mess," I said to my belly. "But your mom's having the time of her life."

I stepped into the shower, and as the hot water hit my skin, I watched the cum wash off my body in cloudy white streams that swirled down the drain. Nine loads. Three men. One very satisfied, very pregnant, very cum-soaked woman.

Life, as I had recently concluded, was very fucking good.