Cum Slut; a biologically screaming for impregnation

I’m fertility on fire.

I’ve been having daydream after daydream about his cum.

His cum: crawling through the pores of my cervix, trickling the tapestry of my womb, the excess slowly seeping out the pink curled edges of my labias. A trillion daydreams about his cum, oceans of it, graffiti’ing my uterus, filling me up, ballooning belly and breasts.

A trillion daydreams of his cum for a trillion babies, as if my only use was to reproduce, with my tits swollen to 3x their usual size, oozing gallons of milk for months on end. Somehow his cum is only intoxicating if it retains its ability to hijack my biological function. Overthrow the ruckus of my cycle.

Engrave your name in my womb.

Lately, I’ve been masturbating thinking of him cumming at the top of my pussy’s slit, on the fuzz of remnant pubic hair. He’ll scoop a thick finger-ful of his seed between his index and middle finger. I’ll pin back the layers of my cunt with my hands, creating an unobstructed pathway dripping with impatience. He’ll turn the juice upwards, coaxing his fingers into my spread lips, massaging his cum into the far end of my pussy with deep, methodically thrusts. He’ll suck my clit as my pussy muscles forcefully pulse, extracting all that cum off his fingers, internally sucking them clean.

I cum so hard thinking of that, thinking of his burrowing cum ceremoniously cemented into my cunt. I cum so hard thinking about blooming with his baby. And that’s fucking wild. That’s fucking insane. Because I don’t want another kid. Lord fucking no, not another kid. I know what kind of sleep-starved care goes into a little kid. I know how unglamorously unsexy it is to birth new life.


But my feral fucking fertility doesn't care. He can jerk me around by the hands of my jangling clock, gladly, menacingly. Make me a slave to my dumb biological imperative. My body wants gallons and gallons of his cum, want 60,000 of his offspring as proof of purchase.



I am fertility on fucking fire.


It’d be the end of life itself if I really got pregnant but my body does not give a fucking damn. I cum so hard, the hardest that I’ve cum in a long time, envisioning him getting me pregnant.

Penetrations & Artificial Fuckings

X,

I’ve been walking around thinking “I need to get fucked”.

I do.

I have to be pounded. And for the longest time I’ve been mad because you won’t just fuck me.

We’ve already established that sex between me and you is a complicated picture. One of the reasons I find it so frustrating is that “sex play” doesn’t seem to be off the table; in fact the play aspect of sex is really something beautiful between us. But I realize I am actually a little resentful because playing is often a spontaneous thing and my ability to orgasm is usually not calibrated to happen at a moment’s notice.

I want you to make me cum, I realize. The type of “cum” that only happens from penetration.

But that requires planning, orchestration, and time, at the very least, to prepare for the ordeal. And suddenly making me cum becomes “an ordeal”. It’s not play anymore if it can’t be spontaneous. And is it still even play, if I specifically need you cock inside my pussy? Isn’t that just sex?

So….. I decided, fine, I need to be fucked.

And so I fucked myself with my dildo. But actually, I imagined you were there and you were fucking me with my dildo…

….what would that be like, if he fucked me with my toys? That’s really playful! 

Oh, fuck, I came TREMENDOUSLY thinking about that.

I really do believe deeply that vaginas need to be filled, that there is something biologically and psychologically healthy about filling a vagina to the brim. So I think that’s part of the reason why my body screams: get penetrated for the love of god!

Interesting things started to happen as I fucked myself with my dildo (imagining it was you fucking me with said dildo).

Among them:

-my pussy got super saturated nearly immediately upon penetration. So saturated that I think I’d almost be embarrassed by the extent of my wetness if I had an audience. It was copious and slick and downright messy. It was leaking all between my ass cheeks and slicking up my pubes. There was nothing lady like about all that wetness.

-my pussy got super, super relaxed. So relaxed I think I’d actually be embarrassed by how wide open and eager it was. So relaxed and so wet that you very well might have been able to stuff your whole fist into it (fisting, mmmm, fuck, fisting is delicious but trying to pretend that this was the first time you were playing with my pussy, I just kept thinking: “man, “cavernous” as a first impression is really hard to bear”)

-my juices turned pink. Sometimes this happens, because my fibroid is so close to the lining of my uterus. Sometimes mid-month I spot diluted blood. Sometimes that’s happened during sex and I’m like “Fuck my life that is the most unsexy things ever”.

I kept going despite these mishaps. There have been many points in my life that I never saw the necessity to finish masturbating if I am confronted with the less than stellar aspects of my anatomy. I think I’m grossed out by it.

It wasn’t until about five minutes ago I realized: maybe I don’t understand process of getting fucked or why my body seeks to be fucked in the first place.

I kept going despite these mishaps, only because I imagined you fucking me with my dildo, and I didn’t think that you would stop until I had had my true fill. I kept going until I came, playing with the depth of my thrusts, pulling the dildo all the way out before slowly cramming it back in. I rotated it around the walls of my vulva. I feverishly reamed into the tenderness of my cervix.

I kept going until the wetness regulated itself.

I kept going until the walls of my vagina felt tight and revived.

I kept going until I came.

Something happened in the process of “fucking” myself: my vagina threw a tantrum. It was like it needed to be recalibrated by being defined by penetration. Maybe that doesn’t always mean I need flesh and blood cock. Maybe that means when I’m not having physical sex regularly I have to be kind to my body and train my vag (the same way I train my abs or my biceps).

Maybe I’m gonna have to pay more attention to when my body says “we need to get fucked”.

I guess I just realized for the first time: I can do that myself if need be.

But you should know I’m still learning how.  In the meantime, I’m gonna have to borrow your likeness as the imaginary cock that makes me cum.

-C