DISCLAIMER:- The following text is sexually explicit and contains depictions of sexual acts that have been classified by the surgeon general as potentially dangerous and unhealthy. You must be a broad minded adult to read the text, and you must not make this text available to minors or to any person who does not wish to view it. Unprotected sexual relations with unknown partners is hazardous and we urge the use of condoms and safe sex at all times.

I fantasize about a situation where I am with a dominant man who I've been in a relationship with for a while. Who has decided that it is time for me to be bred.

He tells me this before leaving for work and I spend the whole day at my job in a terrible state, just anticipating.

On a break, perhaps my cell phone rings, and it is him, telling me just a hint about what is in store and a 'suggestion' about where I should be when he arrives home that evening.

I fix dinner for us as usual, and he arrives home a bit later. The table is already set outside, and he takes the bottle of wine out and a pair of glasses out to pour, while I go upstairs to take off my clothing- cooking naked is not a good idea when you are excited and likely to spill something. We sit outside on the deck as the sun goes down, and he tells me the rest of his plans.

I love the way wind feels on my body when I'm naked, it's one of the nicest things about living in the country, the ability to sunbathe naked. (Or just nap on the chaise lounge on the deck, which isn't really sunbathing.)

It starts to cool off, as it does in the desert in the evening, and I move to sitting with him- on a bench, perhaps on his lap. I'm already wet- I have been all day, more or less. I would wonder how he knew THIS was the day I ovulate, as even I don't usually keep track of my periods that closely. I am not very organized though, and he is.

All the 'everyone says' stories though, say a woman's juices are thicker and she's hornier when she's ovulating, and if that's the case, well, I MUST be.

He tells me how sexy he thinks I am, runs his hands up and down my sites and caresses my breasts before tweaking my nipple. "I want to see these get even bigger."

I shiver. This isn't usually a fantasy of mine- I am a double D, which is quite enough when you are running after an out of control puppy that your student has let, for some unknown reason, off leash. Tonight though, is not about practical. It's about need.

My cunt feels like a vacuum, pulling the rest of my body in towards it, desperate to be filled with something.

I can't resist any longer, I reach down to touch myself, but he grabs my hand. "Tonight, you are receptive, and you will receive nothing I don't give you."

I make a noise that is somewhere between a groan of frustration and a laugh. We are a partnership, with give and take, but he has his moments of this, and it is, as I know, natural.

I am an independent, strong-minded individual, and I don't really think of myself as submissive, but when he really wants something? He usually gets it, and it turns me on. A lot of people throw around the words 'dominant, submissive, alpha'- it's sort of a trade hazard for me, as I am a dog trainer. And it usually makes me laugh, because when people in ahem, the adult world, start tossing the terms around? Well... some of the interpretations are pretty weird. The dominant wolf- or dog- in a pack doesn't go around picking fights, and he doesn't get his jollies bossing someone. Dominance simply means that when he DOES feel the need for things to go a certain way, they do. Tonight, the dominant one wants to breed me- and I will be bred.

He leans towards me then, and takes my nipple in his mouth, bites gently and then smiles at me. "Let's go upstairs."

I know, if I wanted to, I could say no, and he would respect it. But I don't WANT to say no. The practical considerations are not my responsibility any more- he has taken all that and reduced me to my most basic, primal self. I am sitting across his lap, straddling him, and I use the excuse of standing up to grind against him- just once.

"Ah-" he cautions, the same sound we use with our dogs, who are out in the kennel tonight, as if I am an animal incapable of language. I nearly am. Sensation is far more important than thought at this point, but his disapproval is clear and I subside.

He stands up, and we walk into the house and up the stairs to our bedroom together. The lights are not turned on, but the room is not completely dark. Silvery light comes from the windows on the outer wall and illuminates the bed, covers neatly folded at the foot, one of my duties this afternoon.

"Go lay down," he says, "On your stomach." I KNOW he is going to draw this out, and I am ready NOW- but I obey, propping my head on my crossed arms and looking back at him, waiting.

He unbuttons his shirt, folds it. "Now you are just being mean." I say. His normal routine is dropping things on the floor, where I inevitably trip over them.

He smiles. "So?" He unbuttons his pants, removes his boxers, his shoes were already gone at the bottom of the stairs. I spread my legs, wriggle, I hope, provocatively, and he drops his pants and climbs onto the bed himself, lightly slapping me on the ass. "Stay still." I laugh.

He begins to rub my back, lightly, starting with my shoulders, the back of my neck (which he bends to kiss and then nip, which is completely, unfairly erotic for no reason I can explain). Working down my spine, across my buttocks.

It seems like hours but is probably only a minute or two, before he tells me to turn over and lays down next to me on his side, so we are facing each other.

"I can't wait," he says "To see your belly grow and know that it is my child." He reaches out and places a hand on my abdomen, approximately where said bump will be, hopefully. "I want to fuck you from behind when you are full and round and heavy with a child."

"I want to drink from your nipples and watch you squirm, knowing that it was me who made you this way, and will again."

He sits up, I start to follow, but he motions me back down, moving to sit between my spread legs, leaning over me. He runs his hands down my body again, circling my nipples- which are so hard at this point they are painful, avoiding my ribs, which is good, as I am ridiculously ticklish, especially when aroused. He fits his hands around my waist, thumbs rubbing over my hip bones, continuing down, to rest on my thighs.

He is kneeling, and he slips his hands under me to lift me so that my lower body is resting on his knees, giving him full access to my crotch with his hands. This is a position he's used in the past for teasing me, and a game we've played before- just how long does it take before I begin to beg for him to hurry up and fuck me?

He runs a finger gently down the lips of my cunt, which are thick, fleshy, and used to bother me as 'abnormal' from the tight, tiny-lipped things of girls in porn videos and pictures. With my legs spread as they are though, they are pulled tightly open, just enough flesh for him to pinch and pull at in a way that is almost, but not quite so intense as to be painful.

He traces inside the lips, around my cunt itself, then touches the little spot just above my clit that drives me mad even when I am too sensitive for my clit to be stimulated directly. I gasp and strain to open my legs wider.

My cunt strains, longing for something, anything to fill it, to be drawn up inside of me and to fill the empty places inside me exactly as nature intended them to be filled.

He presses a finger, two fingers inside of me and I can't help my cunt tightening on them, but they are deliberately withdrawn, kept out, pulled back, leaving me emptier than ever.

I moan, something about "I want you inside me," but probably less sensible, as my brains have migrated to my crotch; every nerve in my body is there, on fire, and he does it again, harder, pressing this time with the heel of his hand against my pubic bone and I buck, desperate now.

He is as hard as a rock, I can feel his cock frustratingly near and yet not inside of me. "Please,"

"Tell me what you want." He says, stilling the motion of his hand, although the pressure remains. My pulse throbs, I squirm.

"I want you to fuck me," I say. "Please, for god's sake, just fuck me." He smiles, motionless, and I know he wants to hear it all. "Please, fuck me and cum in me and make me pregnant. I want to have your baby; I want you to fuck me when I'm pregnant and big and tight and I want you to do it again and again-" And he does.

His cock slides into me easily, fitting into me as if I was made to fit it like a custom made glove- not too large or too small, but just right. He leans over me, rearranging us on the bed, him still in me, until I can bear it no more and move my hips. He is filling me, but I am still empty, and I NEED more.

He pulls back, then pushes back into me. I push my hips up at him as he moves, we move, and together we begin the long fall into ecstasy, speeding up together as we both near our climaxes.

I come quickly, having been on edge so long, but just as the final waves are washing over me, he hits bottom, the head of his prick bumping up against my cervix, and I come again, thinking about the nearness of his cock to my fertile womb.

"Cum in me," I manage to gasp, breathless. "I want your cum in my belly making me big and tight and pregnant."

I have heard, but never believed, that women can feel it when a man ejaculates. Scientists insist it isn't possible, but I can tell you that it is.

He explodes in me with a gasp and a sudden bursting of warmth that sets off a third explosion in me, and I wrap my legs tighter around him, not sure when they got there, but I pull him to me, deeper and deeper, and we both finish together. He remains on top of me, inside me, as he softens, and I murmur a denial as he finally withdraws, wanting to keep the full feeling.

And I am bred.