Taboo: Pumped By A Pirate (Step Hucow Public Voyeur Threesome Pregnancy) Read online

  The huge cock slid in, disappearing inch by inch as my sister's slit consumed it. The pirate began to pound. He pumped her with a brutal excitement, his hairy thighs opening her legs wider and his sturdy cock stuffing her.

  I was now extremely turned-on, and couldn't help but run my hand down into my panties to playfully dally with my aching snatch. With my free hand I held Sally's hand, embracing it delicately whilst the buccaneer banged her wildly.

  The wails of my sister were like crashing waves—wet, blue moans that sounded beautifully painful, and I wanted to help in some way, to try to make things easier for her. Although a part of me was definitely taking pleasure in this—really relishing watching my sister getting fucked by this brutal man. And it was evident that he was savoring the experience, withdrawing until just the head of his titanic pork was inside her before spearing back inside.

  I can't deny it—I can't hide from the truth—my pussy was now drenched, my digits stroking myself as I gazed on with enraptured attention.

  Sally was now totally caught up in the moment, shrieking in exhilaration as the pirate thrust into her, again and again. I was frantically pleasuring myself, slipping my fingers into my pussy and rotating them, my other hand breaking free from my sister’s grip and reaching out so I could caress the base of the pirate's penis.

  He widened his stance, and I bravely crawled round to the back of him, his one thick leg like an oak tree before me, his wooden one resembling a skinny birch.

  My fingers remained securely in my pussy as I craned my neck forward towards his swollen sack. From behind, I didn’t delay in taking one of the big balls into my mouth again, this time letting my teeth lightly scrape it. The sack was tough and tasted meaty, and I leaned further towards his crack so I could really harbor the nut with my dripping jowl.

  I completely lost myself in the unwashed taste of the pirate's balls. It was extremely lusty, having this big man penetrating my sister while he tea-bagged me. My sister writhed on the huge dick, hollering and screeching at the top of her lungs.

  He raised his arms up above his head and yelled, “Ooh aar me hearties! The tightest pussy on all of the seven seas!” It was an ear-splitting holler of success and gratification.

  With his nuts still in my mouth he continued to harpoon my sister on his cock, rocking back and forth. Sally was a wriggling, groaning fuckdoll. As my fingers worked my clit, I began to orgasm, roll after roll of them. The sex-smell was everywhere. The walls of my pussy clamped down on my fingers as I came, moaning into my mouthful of pirate ball.

  He gave another roar of pleasure and let loose a violent stream of jizz, a hot rope of goo that pushed Sally off his dick. She slid across the table on her back, and hit the floor on the other side.

  Still mad with lust, I crawled around the table, partly to check on her, but also because I wanted one final taste. I licked my sister's violated pussy and drank down the leaking cream-pie, as I heard the pirate give a hearty chuckle.

  Me and my sister lay there for a few moments, stunned but not bewildered. We had been successful in making this fearless sea master cum, in satisfying the rampant man and his natural cravings. I licked my lips. There was an appetizingly rich flavoring to his spunk, and as Sally opened her mouth I spat some to her, and like two good sisters we indulged in some forbidden pirate snowballing action. As she spat the load back to me we exchanged a smile, and I blew a giant cum bubble before taking one big gulp.

  The pirate looked down at us with a barbarian smile, showing his crooked large teeth and a grateful expression on his face. “Shiver me timbers,” he declared, before clearing the blocked doorway and wandering off through the corridor and into the depths of the ship.

  After a few minutes of quiet recognition, we carefully got up. Sally wrapped a tablecloth around her waist, and I brushed myself down, trying to look respectable.

  My sister took comfort in my heartfelt effort to soothe her, and she knew that if she were to get pregnant, I would help her get through this, with or without our parents’ approval. She was a tough girl, and we would find a way to cope with it. At least the pirate had gold. Although he was probably quite a difficult guy to track down and make pay child support.

  But this wasn’t going to be the final time that the three of us would have fun together. I knew Sally wouldn’t mind receiving more loads of his salty spill. I wanted to get some too. And if we were going to have fat bellies and chubby lactating breasts while we did so, then that was fine by us.

  We looked forward to sailing the seven seas on the brave pirate's ship.

  Screw our crappy waitressing job.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Bonus Stories …

  By

  Daisy N. Chains

  I unzipped the large tent and crawled out into the evening air. It was pretty much dusk, and a gorgeous dark blue light filled the clearing in the forest. Peter lay on top of his sleeping bag near the dying fire, still immersed in sleep. I looked around and took in my surroundings, everything looking slightly different now night was on its way. The only other tent belonged to my mother, who was cuddling and bottle-feeding my young baby. I sure needed a break from looking after my youngster, and greatly appreciated my mom's keenness to take care of her, while I caught up with my own thoughts. I needed my own space from time to time, that was for sure. Peter was planning to share my mom's tent—they were married after all.

  I inhaled deeply. God, it felt good to be out here. If I'm being honest, I had actually wanted a hotel room in the nearby town, but Peter had insisted on outdoor camping right here in the forest. Up until now, the most remarkable thing in the location had been the fire pit we had built upon arrival. I looked at Peter's head, lying so close to the glowing remnants of the fire. So close, and yet so far. Man, he was a jerk sometimes. Well, most of the time.

  When my mom had started dating him, I thought Peter was a pleasant enough guy. The same age as my mom, and not someone I'd typically talk to, or meet in day to day life, but it seemed as though he made her happy. And whatever made her happy, made me happy. At first. The persistent reminders from Peter and my mom that I should refer to him as 'Dad', even though he'd only been around for a couple of years was, quite frankly, asking a bit much of me. Peter could be unbelievably rude at times. Yes, my weight had increased a little since childbirth, but surely that was acceptable—it comes with the territory. It's not as though some middle aged man who happened to have married into my family had any right to even mention my weight. And it wasn't as though I was even fat anyway. Of course, his belly was to be ignored. ‘Podgy’, he’d called my bottom last weekend. I'd almost pimp-slapped him then, but I let it slide. I was genuinely proud of myself for not making a scene about it. The insult had offended me a little, and there was no way I'd forget about it. When we returned to the city, I'd have it out with him.

  In regards to my appearance, let's get things into perspective. I'm 20 years old, and getting pregnant was never my intention. I am a part time model with considerable curvature and a tanned complexion. My boobs are like two sun-kissed spheres, that jiggle like jelly when strapless and jut out confidently when crammed into one of my tight tops. My legs are slender, and my abdomen firm. I have absolutely no problem getting attention from the opposite sex—hence that one unprotected night which resulted in the baby my mom was now nursing.

  The sun was setting, and Peter eventually stirred from his kip and glanced up at me. I frowned at him from the other side of the fire pit, where the stump-log was still smoldering with dim reddish embers deep in its centre. “Hey Charlotte,” he said, before yawning loudly. I grimaced. But as I looked at his perfect white teeth I couldn't help admitting to myself that he actually looked quite handsome where he lay, the fire's subtle light illuminating his chiseled features.

  “Hey Daddy.” I rolled my eyes.

  Peter acted distressed and baffled. “You upset or something?”

  I crossed my arms as I looked down at him, trying my best to have an expressionless
face. “Are you being serious?”

  “Sweetie, don’t be like that. This is about the weight thing, isn't it? You know you’ve put on a couple of pounds. But just on your ass. I was just saying it out loud. I actually meant it as a compliment. You’re truly being ludicrous.”

  I was so pissed I was starting to lose the capability to form rational thoughts. Maybe it was Peter's fault. Or maybe it was the fact that I hadn't gotten laid in a while. Being a single mom sure had its downside. But before I said anything horrible, or a whole lot worse, I kicked a small pebble in the general direction of the fire, crossed my arms and briskly stormed off into the woods. “Charlie! Really? Come on. Come back here and talk to Daddy about this.” He no doubt watched my fat ass as I vanished into the gloomy treeline.

  "Catch you later... Dad," I whispered to myself as I walked on into the blackness.

  I strolled off the path and wandered uphill, the boggy greenish grass under my shoes squelching as I fearlessly treaded forward, still mad but also still totally appreciating the recently-lost load from my stomach that I'd been lugging around for the past nine months. The forest was far denser around here. The trees seemed much taller, almost threatening.

  My annoyance died down just before I discovered I was truly lost. I turned around, at long last not concentrating wholly on Peter, and came to the realization I had no idea where the heck I was. I acknowledged I couldn’t be too far, simply because I hadn't been walking for that long. I stopped and looked up, but the leaves and branches were too dense to see the stars. The forest was pitch black, so I stood silently and tried to listen to the sounds around me. I heard chirps, the soft rustle of wildlife, and a softly babbling brook. I loved the outdoors, usually, but at this moment in time I was wishing I was in a nice comfy hotel room. I knew camping wasn't going to be the best idea. I tried to hear voices, anything human, hoping maybe that my mom and Peter were chatting and I was still in earshot of them. It would help to fend off real dread. I held my breath and listened.

  No voices. And I could no longer hear the twittering birds, and the sound of the babbling brook was so soft that I practically couldn’t hear it at all—I couldn't even determine which direction it was coming from.

  I halted dead in my tracks, and my cardiovascular system felt like it hopped up into my throat, as I listened to a very strange, deep sound. There was no way a man could have made the noise. For some reason an image of a bull flashed though my mind. I tried to calm my nerves, and told myself that it if it was a wild boar, or cow, or something, then it was probably miles away, and probably completely harmless. Absolutely nothing to worry about.

  I heard it again. The growl went on for several seconds longer than the last time. My ears pricked up and my hearing tingled as I thought about what really made that sound. My legs started to shake. I decided to turn around and walk in the other direction. But walking in the other direction may not have been the smartest move, because I had no idea whether that was the way back to camp or not. I was well and truly fricking lost. I was searching for the path from which I had come, but the further I walked, the more lost I felt. This really was now a test not to panic, not scream, not run like a scared child. I'm a young woman, for Christ's sake. I could handle this. I was determined to keep my head and I'd get there. Eventually.

  The growl sounded once more, but now it was a great deal nearer, as if it was coming from right behind me. I turned around suddenly in an effort to try to see what made the noise, but there was absolutely nothing there, just the deep, dense woodland.

  I felt a giant hand over her mouth area from behind, taking hold of me firmly. I yelled into the rugged palm, my muffled scream silenced. Another arm held my hips, its large muscles controlling me firmly and forcefully.

  Now absolutely Panic-stricken, I was about to attempt another shriek, but my visual world shifted. The blackness of the forest turned to white, and I passed out where I stood.

  I dreamt that I was lying on a soft, white cloud, floating high up in the sky. The softness of the cloud felt like silky pillows, comforting me. It felt so relaxing and peaceful. It felt so real. I didn't want this dream to ever end. However, a terrible feeling washed over me, as I came to the realization of what my true predicament was. My arms felt very heavy, awkward, and I detected a metallic rattling, as I opened my eyes.

  I was in a dim, drab room, like some sort of cave, chained to the wall, my arms outstretched and bound, my legs free. Looking around at my surroundings, I saw in the dancing candlelight that I was not alone. I was thankful for the fact that there was a man chained to the wall to the right of me. And even though it wasn't my favorite person in the world, I was deeply grateful that he was here too. It was Peter. My so-called 'Daddy'. He was chained in a similar fashion to me, although his eyes were closed, unconscious, his strong body hanging limp like a puppet on a string.

  "Hey," I said, in a half-whisper, half-authoritative tone, twisting my neck as far to my right as I could, so I could say the words right into his left ear. "Peter. Pete. Dad! Wake the fuck up."

  Nothing. He didn't even stir. He was out cold.

  A sinister presence was cast dramatically into the claustrophobic cave-room. I yanked against the sturdy chains, but they were fastened securely. They weren't budging.

  “Sweet Mary. Mother of God,” I mouthed silently, my eyes as wide as a raver on 3 ecstasy tablets.

  Dear readers, I wouldn't lie to you. This is what happened on that dark July night. This is the truth. This is my story, and this is what I saw.

  In walked the Minotaur. He seemed bigger than I remembered from the beast that grabbed me in the depths of the woods. He stood tall, approximately 7 foot in height, his frame vastly well-developed. He had the head of a bull, and the body of a man. My eyes scanned down the length of him. He was wearing white boxer shorts, his human legs ripped and muscular. His hoofed feet stood securely on the gravelly floor, his long tail flicking from left to right rhythmically behind him. I was frozen stiff. Where he had obtained those white boxer shorts from was a mystery that would remain unsolved, but no doubt the previous owner of the Calvin Klein branded underwear was now wandering around in the forest, naked. Or worse.

  I had always thought that a Minotaur was a mysterious beast of fantasy and legend—just a kid's story. But not this one. There he was before me. I let out a scream, a loud ear-shattering cry that I had no control over. Peter still didn't move. As if in response, the monster let out a tremendous roar, a booming, thunderous yell from the bottom of his lungs that caused the candle-holders on the walls to shake.

  My eyes were carefully concentrated on the creature, and he in turn calmly looked back at me. He was human in an animal way and animal in a human way, an uneasy blend of bull and body-builder. But when I gazed into his eyes I witnessed a heart and soul look back. There was definitely intellect behind that animal face, there was psyche and awareness. I wondered what the hell it wanted from me.

  It was almost as though he was looking for something, examining me with his eyes, as if I was the strange one and he was completely ordinary. His gaze lowered slightly, and stopped at my tight-fitting top, under which my fat, lactating breasts heaved up and down with every quickening breath.

  He walked over to me. He reached out with both hands, firmly grabbed at the hem of my top, and with one lightning-fast motion tore my garment right down the middle. The remains of my top hung from me like tattered rags, as his dark eyes ravaged my full breasts, now rather weakly concealed underneath my bra. He grabbed at my bra in a similar fashion, before ripping if right down the middle. My tits were now fully exposed, bare and vulnerable in the dingy cave, the flickering candlelight bouncing off my twin orbs. He lowered his head and opened his mouth underneath my left breast, perfectly lined-up with my hard, stiff nipple. He put his thumb and forefinger either side of my erect nip, making goose-bumps appear on my dark-pink areola.

  The beast yanked at my nipple as if it were a cow’s udder, horizontally milking it. A gush of hot, white mil
k spurted out in a girly ribbon, into his open mouth.

  "Oh man." I whimpered. But it didn't actually feel too bad. It was kind of nice to have my full tit alleviated.

  The Minotaur took one big gulp. A trickle of my milk dripped from his mouth and down his chin, splashing against my quaking feet.

  He moved his head to underneath my right breast, but this time he didn't reach out and grip it. He leaned forward and placed his leathery, full lips on my hard nipple, and began to suck, like a baby kitten too its mother's teat. My protein-filled liquid sprayed out in a thick string, into his mouth and down his throat. He sucked away and glugged down as much of the ‘shake as possible, and I watched in disbelief as I felt my breast being emptied.

  Satisfied for now, the creature stood up straight, my firm, youthful breasts jiggling in front of him, little droplets of white leaking from my sore nips. I heard a stirring from my right. Daddy was awake.

  "Charlotte, baby," Peter said in a very serious, worried tone. "Don't do that. You're taunting him. Don't encourage him."

  "What the fuck are you talking about, Daddy? I'm not doing anything—I’m chained to a goddam wall. I can't move. It's not my fault if my tits wobble on their own accord," I said determinedly. I really felt like I needed to stick up for myself verbally at this point.

  The Minotaur’s expression seemed to change, as if he almost looked grateful, as if his thirst had been quenched. For now. I felt exploited, used and embarrassed, but also slightly turned on.

  The creature's musky aroma wafted through the cave and up into my nostrils. It was a half-nice, half-weird scent that discreetly stimulated and excited me.

  I felt myself getting wet, an eager craving coming from between my legs that dispersed through me like a sensual infection. Suddenly, I longed to be set free, to be unchained—but not so I could run away and escape. Oh no. I wanted to show this mythological milk-thirsty stud exactly the effect he was having on my nether mouth. And I didn't mind one bit that my Daddy was present, watching in bondage.