I had been watching her for weeks. My daughter, now twenty-three and six months along, her belly round and tight under those thin maternity tops. She waddled around the house in nothing but panties and a tank top most days, her heavy tits spilling out the sides, nipples dark and thick from the pregnancy. Every time she bent over, that full ass spread for me, and I knew she was doing it on purpose.
One humid afternoon I caught her in the kitchen, bent over the counter reaching for a glass. Her panties were soaked right at the crotch, a dark patch clinging to her swollen pussy lips. "Daddy," she said without turning around, voice low and needy. "I can't reach it. My belly's in the way."
I stepped up behind her, pressing my hard cock against the cleft of her ass. No more pretending. "You been walking around like this on purpose, haven't you?" I growled, hands gripping her hips. "Showing off that pregnant body, knowing what it does to me."
She pushed back, grinding her ass on my dick. "Yes, Daddy. I've been so fucking horny. The baby's yours and I can't stop thinking about how you put it in me."
I yanked her panties down to her thighs. Her cunt was dripping, lips puffy and glistening. I didn't tease. I shoved two fingers straight into her, feeling how tight and wet she was around them. She moaned loud, pushing back on my hand. "Fuck, Daddy, more."
I freed my cock, thick and veined, and rubbed the head up and down her slit. "You want Daddy's dick in that pregnant pussy again?" I asked, voice rough.
"Please," she begged.
"Fuck me hard. I need it."
I slammed in balls-deep on the first thrust. She cried out, gripping the counter. Her belly hung heavy between us as I started pounding her from behind, skin slapping loud and wet. Each thrust made her ass ripple. I reached around and grabbed one swollen tit, squeezing milk out in little spurts that dripped onto the floor.
"Fuck yes, Daddy, fill me up again," she panted. "I'm your dirty pregnant slut."
I fucked her faster, deeper, the wet sounds of her cunt taking every inch echoing in the kitchen. Her walls clenched around me, milking my shaft. I slapped her ass hard, leaving red handprints, then reached down to rub her swollen clit. She came hard, gushing around my cock, legs shaking.
I didn't stop. I pulled out, spun her around, and lifted her onto the counter. Her belly rested on top of mine as I shoved back in, face to face now. Her tits bounced with every thrust. Milk leaked from her nipples and I leaned in, sucking one hard while I fucked her. She tasted sweet and warm.
"Look at you," I grunted. "Pregnant with your own father's baby and still begging for more dick."
She wrapped her legs around me, pulling me deeper. "Don't stop, Daddy. Come inside me. Breed me while I'm already full."
I exploded, pumping thick ropes of cum deep into her cunt. She came again with me, screaming my name, her pussy pulsing and sucking every drop. We stayed locked together, panting, my cock still twitching inside her as cum leaked out around it.
After that it became regular. Mornings in the shower, her on her knees sucking me while her belly rested on the tile. Afternoons bent over the couch. Nights with her riding me slow, that heavy belly bouncing as she took every inch. She loved when I talked dirty about how I'd knocked her up, how her body was made for Daddy's cum. I loved watching her belly grow bigger knowing it was mine.
By the time she was ready to deliver, we were fucking twice a day. Her pussy stayed slick and ready, always craving the same cock that had put the baby there in the first place. No guilt, no stopping. Just raw need and the knowledge that this was ours.
