Chanel’s Breeding Triumph
Chanel’s Breeding Triumph: Rubbing It In
Chanel lounged on the king-sized bed in nothing but a sheer black maternity robe that barely contained her heavy, milk-swollen breasts and the proud, round dome of her eight-month pregnant belly. Stretch marks like tiger stripes gleamed with cocoa butter across her taut skin—badges of the superior cock that had claimed her completely. Her white husband, Michael, knelt at the foot of the bed in his usual spot: naked, caged, hands bound behind his back with one of her silk scarves.
She ran slow circles over the curve of her stomach, smirking down at him. “Feel that, Mikey? Your replacement just kicked again. Strong little thug in there, isn’t he? Nothing like your weak seed ever managed.” She laughed—low, cruel—then spread her thighs wide, letting the robe fall open. Her pussy was still puffy and glistening from earlier, when her black lover Marcus had stopped by for a “quick visit.” A thick pearl of his cum still leaked slowly from her used hole.
“Look at it drip,” she taunted, dipping two fingers inside herself and pulling them out coated in creamy white. She held them out toward Michael’s face. “Open.” He obeyed instantly, tongue extended. She smeared the mess across his lips, then shoved her fingers deep into his mouth. “Suck it clean. Taste what a real man leaves behind. That’s the flavor that’s going to raise your kid, cuck.”
Michael moaned around her fingers, cock straining uselessly in its tiny cage. Chanel pulled her hand free and slapped his cheek lightly with it—wet, sticky. “You know why I keep you around? Because watching your pathetic little pink dick twitch while a black baby grows in my womb is the hottest foreplay I’ve ever had.”
She shifted higher on the pillows, propping her belly up like an offering. “Come closer. Worship it. Kiss every inch where his seed took root.” Michael crawled forward on his knees, pressing trembling lips to the underside of her belly, then lower, to the dark line running down the center. She guided his head between her thighs. “Now clean Mommy’s pussy. Lick up every drop Marcus pumped into me this afternoon. Don’t miss a bit—your tongue’s the only thing that touches me anymore.”
He dove in eagerly, tongue lapping at her swollen folds, sucking the thick, salty remnants from deep inside. Chanel moaned, fingers tangling in his hair, grinding against his face. “That’s it… eat that superior cum. You can taste how much thicker it is, can’t you? How much more there is? Your watery loads never stood a chance.” Her hips rolled as another kick rippled across her belly. She laughed breathlessly. “Feel that? He’s already stronger than you’ll ever be.”
When she was satisfied he’d swallowed every trace, she pushed him back and stood—robe falling completely open now. She turned sideways, letting him see the full profile of her bred body: heavy tits leaking tiny beads of milk, belly protruding proudly, pussy still dripping. “Look at what he did to me,” she purred. “Ruined me for your tiny white dick forever. And you love it, don’t you? Say it.”
“I love it,” Michael whispered, voice cracking. “I love that he bred you… that you’re carrying his baby… that I’m nothing but your cleanup bitch.”
Chanel smiled, satisfied. She straddled his face again, lowering her dripping cunt onto his mouth while she rubbed her belly in slow, possessive circles. “Good boy. Keep licking. When Marcus comes back tonight, you’re going to thank him—on your knees—while he fucks another load into your pregnant wife. And you’ll thank me for letting you watch.”
She came hard against his tongue, thighs clamping around his head, belly pressing down on his forehead as waves rolled through her. When she finally lifted off, strings of her arousal and leftover cum connected her pussy to his lips. She wiped them across his cheek like war paint.
“Nine weeks left,” she whispered, patting her stomach. “Nine more weeks of reminding you every single day who really owns this pussy… and who really owns me.” She leaned down, kissed his cum-smeared mouth softly—almost tenderly—then stood and walked to the mirror, admiring her reflection. “And when this beautiful black baby is born… you’re going to raise him. While I keep getting bred. Over and over.”
Michael stayed on his knees, cage aching, heart pounding, utterly broken and completely addicted.