Author: Loren Tres Title: In Sickness and in Health Part: 1 of 1 Summary: Oh, how I wish someone would care for me this way Keywords: Mf, 1st, rom, cons, preg email: loren@lorentres.com Copyright 2010 by Loren Tres, all rights reserved. Do not copy, edit, republish, etc. -- In Sickness and in Health Loren Tres -- The flu consumed me. It drained my life. It made me shiver uncontrollably. My stepfather held me close and comforted me, as I moaned and cried and wished I could just go to sleep forever. His warmth and love were the only solace I could find in that cold, dreary, and painful existence. I snuggled closer into his warm naked skin, deep under the covers, not caring at all what was right or what was proper. It was the only way to still my endless shivers. He held me close that first night and took care of me, making sure I had enough fluids, giving me his herbal remedies, bringing me small things to eat, and caressing me so sweetly with his magic loving touch. His soothing love seemed to make the pain go away. It was clear, even in my mental fog, how much he cared. He sat with me, while I tried to sip my tea and eat the thin slices of fruit he made for me. His fingers brushed my cheeks, sending his love to me, while he told me that soon I would be all better. His ministrations helped me much more than the stupid doctor did. The doctor just said, "Drink plenty of liquids and stay warm." My body and mind craved warmth so badly. I was so weak. I am sure I would have died if left on my own. I owe my life to him. The second night I felt even worse. I waited in agony for the moment Daddy would slip off his clothes and slide under the quilts to snuggle up to me. This time, I was nude too, because even the soft fabric of the cotton nightshirt seemed painfully rough on my flu-ravaged skin. The soft silky sheets felt so much better. "You feel so warm and nice," I whispered, snuggling my body tightly into his. I lay in a fetal position, on my side, his body wrapped around mine. His arms wrapped me up warmly, his fingertips brushed lightly against my flesh, and I was able to fall asleep at last, safe, secure, and warm in his big strong arms. "I love you, Daddy," I whispered, as I drifted off to sleep. "I love you too, Beautiful," he answered. His fingers caressed my lower and middle back in places and in ways that made my pain go away. In spite of my illness, I found that being so intimately close, and feeling his caresses, was having a surprising effect deep inside my tummy. Was my own stepfather arousing me? No, it was probably just my body, working to fight off the flu. The third night, I felt almost alive again; maybe even well enough to sleep in my own bed. Being well enough to think, I did, and with that thought, came the realization that I craved my stepfather's naked body next to mine again. I craved his touch and his care so much; I actually pretended to shiver. I watched him as he undressed. It was the first time I had seen him nude, when I could actually appreciate his manliness. He was beautiful, like a Greek God – like Adonis. I was amazed at his broad shoulders, his powerful arms, the muscles that rippled on his stomach, and his lean hard leg muscles. Then my heart stopped and my breath caught in my throat when I saw his maleness. He wasn't erect, but must have been partially so, because even though it was flaccid, it seemed huge. It draped almost artistically over his equally large swollen testicles. I shivered for real this time, in a form of sexual anticipation I had never experienced before. He seemed so – manly and potent. It felt so right, when he slipped between the sheets and let me snuggle up in his big strong arms. It felt so natural to be nude together again. "I like how you feel," I said as our bodies touched. "I feel so safe like this." "Maybe you shouldn't feel quite so safe," he admitted, as he massaged my temple so gently. "How come?" "You are too beautiful for words, Amy, and, well, my body has been reacting. Don’t worry though; you're safe. After all, you’re my stepdaughter, you’re underage, and anyway, you’re way too sick." "Right now, I want to be more than just your stepdaughter," I breathed. He did not answer, and I was too sleepy to pursue the topic. I snuggled even closer into his warmth and love, and floated off into sweet peaceful slumber. In my sleep, I felt his hot erect manhood, nestled firmly between the backs of my naked thighs, and dreamed of him, making love to me. That morning, after he left for work, I checked myself. Sadly, it had been only a dream. There was a bit of his dried lubrication on the inside of my thigh, where his virile manhood had rested while we snuggled, but my virginity was still clean and intact. I felt loss. I was actually sorrowful that he had not taken me in the night. I longed for it to be real. I yearned for his closeness, and the additional commitment, from the only man I loved more than life itself. Daddy was a solidly monogamous man. If I could get him to want me, enough to put it inside me, if I could start his baby, I felt sure I could keep him forever. On a happier note, Daddy had prepared a bowl of succulent fruit in a dish on a bed of ice, and set it artfully on the stand beside the bed. There was fresh water, a high-fiber cookie, and a tall glass of iced-mint herbal tea, with a long twisty straw. A handwritten note said, “I love you. I will be home as soon as I can.” It felt so good, to see how much he cared. That night, even he could see I was getting better, but I insisted I wanted to sleep in his arms again. “Daddy, I need you. I can’t sleep alone tonight. Can I sleep with you again, just one more night, just like we did last night, please?” “Okay, Amy; as you wish.” Once more, Daddy stripped nude and climbed into bed with me. This time, I made no effort to hide the fact that I was admiring his amazing body. He must have noticed, because his manhood grew to full hardness as he pulled down his boxers. It was a beautiful thing. It seemed almost as long as my forearm and almost as thick as my wrist, which isn’t as unlikely as it sounds, because I am a very petite girl. More than the size of his erection, its beauty impressed me. It was art. The first thing that came into my mind was that if I ever got that thing inside me, I would be having triplets. Sex doesn’t really work that way, I reminded myself, only to realize I actually wanted him to make me pregnant. I wanted to feel his baby, our baby, growing inside me. He slid in next to me and let me snuggle close; only now, I could feel his massive manhood, pressing between my thighs. I snuggled closer, and captured him, pressing his tip into the small indent of my virgin sex. Warm, wet, sperm-laden lubrication was seeping from the tip, which excited me to the core. Never in my entire life, had I experienced a man holding me so dangerously close. I wanted it. I wanted him to press himself into me, to empty his essence into my fertility, to breed me, almost more than I wanted to breathe. He didn’t; at least, not right away. We talked intimately about many things, and all the while, his hands caressed me so lovingly. It all felt so wonderfully intimate and complete. As we talked, I realized just how much I loved him. I knew, somewhere inside me, that no other man or boy could ever measure up. I wanted to give myself to him forever. He was the man who had cared for me so completely, without reservation, without guile, for most of my life. I began to think of him as Tom, instead of Daddy. On impulse, I pulled his hands onto my breasts, and began pressing myself onto his manhood, trying to get him inside me. "This is so illegal,” he said simply, without withdrawing his hands, or pulling back in any way. “I’m not really your stepdaughter anymore,” I explained. “Mom took off with Ed, you got divorced, and I refused to go live with her.” “You’re too young.” “Sixteen is legal, here in Nevada. I’ll be sixteen in a month.” “Legally, they’d still decide I was in a position of authority over you.” "What they don’t know won’t hurt us," I asserted, knowing that his huge erection meant at least part of him was as eager to make love as I was. “Anyway, I can get emancipated when I’m sixteen, and then I’m legally an adult.” "This is dangerous. I don’t think I can control myself if you keep doing this," he said, making no move to stop me. “Then don’t,” I said simply, still rubbing myself on his beautiful manhood. "Who has been there for me, every time I needed you, for my entire life? How many people even called to see how I was? Mom knew I was sick; did she care enough to call? I could have made you sick too, but you took care of me without any hesitation – without any fear. Talk about dangerous!" One of his hands made sweet love to my breasts, while the other caressed my tummy. His loving touch woke an incredible longing deep in my core. I reached back, to allow my hands to wander lovingly over his hips and thighs. I needed his huge erect manliness deep inside me, more than I needed to breathe, more than I needed to live. In spite of my virginity, I wanted him to impale me, to ravage me, to fill my fertile womb with his virile seed. Frustrated by my overpowering need, I draped one leg over the back of his thigh and reached between my legs to grip him. I tried to stuff it inside my small opening, but the soft skin slid over his hard rod and bunched up at the tip, further frustrating my efforts. The sudden grip of my hand on his swollen rod made him gasp softly. His hot breath caressed my neck and ear, sending wonderful little thrills up and down my spine. Emboldened, I slid his foreskin back, to expose the spear tip of his lance, so it could better penetrate me. I pressed my hips back to seat his dangerous leaking tip firmly in my small opening, and I caressed the bulging tube on the bottom of his erection. I had to crunch myself to reach the base; it was so long. My body shivered in eager anticipation when I felt his lubrication seeping inside me. He pressed his hips forward, and the leaking tip of his masculinity nosed its way into my virgin opening. “Oh, Amy,” he moaned. This time, his hot breath made my tummy tingle, as if an electric charge was building up inside me. I reached lower, to fondle his engorged gonads. I had never before touched a man’s testicles, and I was so surprised to feel how soft and sensitive they seemed. They were so firm and large; they felt almost like a cooked turkey gizzard, or maybe hard-boiled eggs. They seemed to float freely around inside the outer sack, anchored only by a small tube that went from each testicle and into his body. Tom’s breathing was getting fast and ragged. It was thrilling to know I was having such a strongly sexual effect on him. The warm lubrication from the business end of his masculinity leaked into me, and I shivered in reproductive anticipation. I could get him to put his sperm inside me! The thought made me feel so sexually powerful. I did the math, in my head, while I fondled him. I was fertile, right now. I could get pregnant from the man I loved, with my very first sexual contact! Before today, I had never even touched a man intimately, nor had anybody touched me. Even my kisses had been limited to quick pecks on the lips after an awkward date. To give myself so utterly to the man I loved, well, it was overpoweringly complete. “I need you,” I whispered. “Put it in me, please?” “Are you sure?” he asked. “Put it in me,” I ordered, letting my frustration and need rise to the surface. He did not answer – not with his voice. He did increase the pressure of his leaking tip on my unprotected virginity. “Yes,” I hissed softly. “I love you!” Tom’s essence blended with my own moisture, lubricating us both, enough to allow my unused opening to accommodate the knob of his turgid tool. My body constricted tightly around the narrow neck, swallowing the knob. My hymen stretched thinly, on the verge of destruction. “Oh, Tom,” I breathed. He held perfectly still, and so did I. I wanted to cherish the moment of my entry into womanhood; the moment of my sacred denouement, performed by the man I loved more than life itself. “You feel so incredibly good,” breathed Tom in my ear, as he fondled my breasts and belly so lovingly with his strong masculine hands. I squeezed down firmly on his knob with the strong muscles of my vagina, while I wrapped my small hand around his shaft and squeezed. "Do you like it?” I teased. “Oh yes, Amy,” he moaned. “I like it way too much. I have no control.” His breathing was rapid, almost fluttery. “I’m fertile,” I whispered, squeezing his life-giving manhood as hard as I could with my vaginal muscles, and milking his rod from the base to the tip with my hand. “Fill me up.” He groaned, and his entire body went stiff. Then, he held perfectly still, while thick warm pulses of his sperm shot through his tube and blasted deep inside me. I could feel it, both with my hand as his tube pulsed, and the warm wet heat of his sperm as it splashed inside me, through the sensitive and imperfect barrier of my still mostly intact hymen. “Oh yes,” I exclaimed in a happy whisper. “That’s it! Don’t stop!” He held perfectly still and so did I. If I was going to get gravid with my very first sex, I wanted to remember every little detail. I memorized the stretched out, full feeling of his swollen knob, just inside the opening of my vagina. I savored the heat of his body holding mine so closely. I cherished the feel of his big strong hands. I thrilled at his hot breath on my neck, sending smaller chills down my spine to greet the great tingly waves traveling upward through my tummy. I counted each warm injection of his virile sperm, savoring it, worshipping how it felt, thudding inside me, admiring its heat, its consistency, its volume. All too soon, the wonderful sensations began to fade. We both held perfectly still, long after the powerful blasts of his sperm subsided, long after he finished injecting his hot seed into my fertile, virgin body. “I guess it’s been way too long for me,” he apologized. “It was wonderful, Tom.” “You’re still a virgin, technically at least.” I squeezed his erection; it was still hard. “Not for long,” I taunted, and then, I hooked my foot behind his thigh and impaled myself slowly. A short blast of air escaped through my tightly closed lips, when my hymen simply melted away like wet rice paper against the force of his hardness. Instead of being terrible, as I had long expected, the pain of my ruptured hymen was more like a tingle, painful to be sure, but somehow intensely erotic, adding to the tingling feelings already accumulating in my belly. I paused to take a deep breath, and to savor his moan of pleasure. “Take me. Take me all the way. Make me a woman, please, Tom?” “As you wish,” he breathed. His left arm found its way under my waist, and his hand pressed into my Venus mound. He put pressure there, slowly pressing deeper inside my welcoming depths. I tugged at his muscular bottom with my hand, trying to pull him deeper, digging my fingernails into his flesh as my insides stretched achingly to accommodate his huge girth. I was panting to relieve the ache of the pressure, even as I scraped his flesh to bury him deeper inside me. He went ever so slowly, occasionally pulling just a tiny bit back to relieve the pressure and allow me to get familiar with our newfound intimacy. “It feels so full,” I moaned. “It’s only halfway in. Do you want me to stop?” “No. It feels – delicious. I need this. Keep going, please?” “As you wish,” he whispered, pressing inward, slightly faster than before. “Yes, Daddy; I love it!” I knew as soon as I said it I had made a mistake. I had unintentionally reminded him of the nature of our relationship. He stopped, even as I gripped his flesh and tried to pull him in deeper. Just a little farther and I would be feeling the tip of his flesh at my virgin cervix, the gateway to my fertile womb. I wanted him there, literally more than I wanted to breathe. “Don’t stop, Tom,” I corrected myself. “I need you. I really, really need you; right now! Please?” He did not press any deeper, at least not immediately. The middle finger on his left hand toyed erotically with the small but swelling bud of my clitoris. His right hand caressed my nipples lovingly, which responded by wrinkling up into tiny little nubbins of tightly focused pleasure. Waves of joy rippled up and down between my breasts and my vagina. After several amazing minutes of stimulation, Tom resumed his conquest, taking away more and more of my virginity, filling me with himself. “Thank you,” I breathed. “Thank you!” He gripped my hips and slowly, relentlessly, pressed deeper and deeper. The pressure of his sperm, having nowhere else to go, built up in front of his huge invading piston. “Oh,” I groaned, “I love it.” Suddenly, the pressure released, and he slipped easily another two inches inside my vagina. My cervix had opened. It swallowed every drop of Tom’s wonderful life-giving sperm. He had pushed it like a piston deep inside my fertile womb! “Oh, Tom, I can feel it. It’s all the way inside me.” “You feel so good, Amy.” His swollen manhood pressed, gently but firmly, into my cervix, which responded by sending chills of pleasure throughout my body. “Yes,” I hissed, “I love you, Tom!” “I love you, Amy, more than anything in the world.” He rotated his hips, as his fingers played so skillfully between my legs. The tip of his tool was rimming my cervix, stimulating it, sending involuntary ripples through my tummy. It was amazing what he was doing to me. My poor brain was flooding with all kinds of delicious chemicals, all designed by eons of evolution, to commit me to my lover, and to create beautiful new life. It was working, even though the more analytical part of my brain knew exactly what was happening. I was making Tom’s baby! I did not care that I was still fifteen, or that society would have fits over what we were doing. It did not matter that Tom was thirty years older than I was. It did not matter that I was dooming myself to spend nine uncomfortable months, growing his baby in my belly. It did not matter that I would be breastfeeding a hungry infant when I was only sixteen. It did not matter that I would be spending the next twenty years raising a child. I wanted it, more than it will ever be possible to describe. He pulled out, and pressed back in, slowly and deliberately. “Mm,” I moaned, in a long, drawn out tribute to his virile manliness. He pulled back out, all the way to the tip, and pressed in again. I pushed my hips back to meet his long slow thrust, learning as I went how to coordinate my movements to his. Gradually, like a snowball rolling down a long, long hill, our thrusting picked up speed and urgency. The sensations building between my legs and throughout my body steadily increased, to unbelievable levels, far exceeding any imaginings I ever had as a girl. My entry into womanhood, with the man I loved more than anything, was proving to be the most fantastic and wonderful experience of my entire life. I cherished every push. I savored the pressure inside me, as his maleness pressed harder and harder into my cervix with each wonderful thrust, stimulating me to the core. I treasured his moans of pleasure, as his orgasm developed along with my own. Then he held perfectly still and so did I, as we both teetered on the edge of the most powerful orgasm of my life. I tipped over the edge first. My stomach rippled with the strength of my orgasm. My vagina chewed on his manhood like a starving animal, which triggered his release. I adored each new warm injection of his virile sperm, and how it felt, thudding inside me. This time, the tip of his tube had mated with the small opening of my cervix, and his sperm was shooting directly into my womb. His deep sigh was almost a growl, as his baby-maker swelled inside me, and his essence jetted deep into my fertility, in blast after glorious blast of reproductive joy. “I love you, Tom,” I sighed. His jets of sperm slowed, but his body still twitched and shuddered in the aftermath of our love. “I love you forever,” he whispered in my ear. Several minutes passed in silence, while we basked in the joy of our newfound intimacy, before I spoke. “We’re having a daughter. I can feel her spirit. I can feel her growing inside me.” I pressed his hand to my tummy and caressed his hand with mine. “Can you feel her, too?” He kissed me softly on the neck, which sent wonderful shivers of pleasure down my spine. “She’s going to be as beautiful as her mother,” he breathed. We fell asleep like that, with him slowly shrinking, still safely ensconced inside my body, and replacing the virginity it had taken with his love and his commitment. I knew, as I drifted off to sleep in his warm embrace, that I would be his forever. --