I’ve always had a thing for impregnation fantasies. The idea of a big, strong man filling me up with his seed, planting his baby deep inside my fertile womb, drives me wild with desire. I’m Lisa, an 18-year-old college student, and this fetish has consumed my thoughts ever since I hit puberty. I’ve tried to ignore it, to focus on my studies and my future, but I can’t shake this primal urge.

That’s why, when I met Bill, I knew I had to have him. He was everything I’d ever dreamed of – tall, muscular, with a chiseled jaw and piercing blue eyes. We met at a party, and the attraction was immediate and intense. We talked and laughed, our hands brushing against each other, the electricity between us palpable.

When the party ended, we stumbled back to my apartment, our lips locked, hands groping and exploring. We barely made it through the door before we were tearing at each other’s clothes, a tangle of limbs and moans. I pushed him onto the couch, straddling him, feeling his hardness pressing against my core.

“Fuck me,” I whispered, my voice husky with need. “Fill me up with your cum. I want to feel your baby growing inside me.”

Bill groaned, his eyes dark with lust. “You’re playing with fire, Lisa,” he warned, even as his hands gripped my hips, pulling me down onto his throbbing cock.

I cried out as he entered me, stretching me, filling me completely. It was better than I’d ever imagined, the feeling of being so utterly possessed by him. I rode him hard, my hips bucking, my breasts bouncing as I chased my pleasure.