A crazy experience with my daughter's pregnant friend

It started innocent enough. My daughter, my 22-year-old, and her friend Cassandra had gone out drinking. Well, I guess I should say my daughter had gone out drinking with Cassandra. Cassandra was also 22 but about five months pregnant so no drinking for her. It was my oldest daughter's birthday and she had invited Cassandra to come in from Florida for the weekend. My youngest, 17, tagged along for dinner but dipped out early to a sleepover.

The next morning, I'm in the kitchen having coffee. I was still half-asleep, when I hear footsteps in the hallway. I figure it's one of the girls, maybe my oldest shuffling in with a hangover. But when I look up, it's Cassandra. She's wearing this baggy sweatshirt that hangs off one shoulder and a pair of plaid shorts so short I can see the curve of her ass cheeks peeking out the bottom. She's barefoot, hair messy, looking like she just rolled out of bed.

"Hey," she says. "Your daughter's still passed out. She drank way too much."

I nodded as she goes to the fridge and pours herself a glass of juice. She leans against the counter and we chat for maybe ten minutes. Small stuff, how she's feeling, the pregnancy, the weather in Florida versus here. She's easy to talk to. Friendly. Laughs a lot.

Then she says she's gonna grab a shower and heads down the hall toward the guest bedroom. I watch her go, and I can't help it, my eyes drop to those shorts. The way they ride up with every step. She's got a nice ass, pregnant belly or not. I catch myself staring and look away, feeling like a creep.

I finish my coffee, rinse the cup in the sink and head to the bathroom before I start my day. I walk down the hall, push the door open without thinking and there's Cassandra. Sitting on the toilet. Shorts around her ankles. Legs spread just enough that I can see everything.

She doesn't scream. Doesn't even look surprised. She just grins up at me, totally at ease, and says, "Hey, don't mind me. I'm used to peeing with my boyfriend around."

I freeze, hand still on the door handle. "I..... shit, sorry, I thought you went to the guest room."

"I did," she says, still smiling. "But baby's got me on a schedule." She pats her belly, then wiggles her fingers at me. "You can come in if you want. I don't mind."

I'm standing there, mouth half-open, trying to process what's happening. She's just sitting there, legs apart, letting me see everything. The shaved mound between her thighs, the curve of her belly, the way her shorts are twisted around one ankle.

"You can pee too, if you need to," she adds, and there's a little teasing in her voice. "I don't bite, old man."

That *old man* thing stings a little. But the way she says it, playful and flirtatious, makes my stomach twist. She catches me looking, and instead of closing her legs, she sits there and stares at me, like she's showing off.

I back out of the doorway, heart pounding. "I'll just use the one upstairs."

"Suit yourself." She shrugs, still smiling. "But you're making it weird, not me. I'm just peeing."

I'm just frozen standing there with the doorknob in my hand.

"It's okay, you can come in. I'm used to using the bathroom with my boyfriend." I'm just standing there, door half open, my brain not even catching up. I heard the words, but they didn't make sense. Like, *what the fuck?*  I manage to mumble, "Oh, okay," but I'm still frozen, not moving.

Then she stands up. Just stands up, right there, with her shorts still around her ankles. She whips her pussy in front of me like it's nothing. I'm staring. I can't help it. It's so small and pink, completely shaved clean. She's not embarrassed at all. She goes, "I'm done. Come in. Do you need to pee?"

My brain short-circuits. "Ahhh, yeah, I guess." So I step inside, shut the door behind me, and walk to the toilet. She's already at the sink, leaning into the mirror, messing with something under her eye. I pull it out, stand there in front of the bowl, and try to go. Nothing. My mind's racing, everything's weird, but somehow it also feels strangely normal. Like this is just something that happens.

She glances over. "It's funny how it's hard to pee when someone's watching."

I laugh, and keep trying. Finally it comes, this huge stream, longer than I thought I could hold. I'm peeing forever.

"Wow, that was a ton of pee," she says, still looking at her face in the mirror. "Can I shake it off for you? I always shake my boyfriend's off."

At this point, I'm so deep in the weirdness that I just go, "Sure, why not."

She walks over, grabs my cock like she's been doing it for ten years. Not tentative or shy, just wraps her hand around it and starts shaking. She's standing right up against me, her head leaning on my chest, and she smells amazing. Something floral and warm. She's serious about it too, shaking every last drop off, real aggressive.

But my cock's not getting the memo. It starts getting chubby in her hand. I don't say anything. I just let her keep shaking. She notices, keeps playing with it, and now I'm rock hard.

"Damn, you're thick," she says. My heart hammering, cock standing straight up. She doesn't let go. Her hand stays wrapped around me, thumb rubbing slow circles over the head, and I feel it start to get slick. A bead of pre-cum is forming at the tip.

She notices and grins.

"Uh oh, somebody's excited."

I can't even answer. My breath's caught in my throat. She keeps her grip loose, sliding her hand down to the base, then back up. Her fingers are soft, and she's taking her time, like she's studying it. The pre-cum starts to glisten, catching the bathroom light, as she strokes me again.

"Hm," she murmurs, almost to herself, and uses her thumb to smear it around the head. It's warm and wet, and I can feel every tiny movement. She looks at me, still smiling, and keeps her hand moving. Slow, deliberate, watching the pre-cum stretch into a thin web between her thumb and my slit.

"Damn, you're leaking," she says in a playful voice.

She doesn't stop. She keeps stroking, letting the pre-cum coat her fingers, sliding easier now. I'm just sitting there, hands gripping my hips, watching her play with me like it's the most natural thing in the world. I just stare at her, mouth dry, pulse throbbing in my ears. Her hand keeps working me slow and wet, thumb spreading that slick pre-cum around the head like she's polishing a trophy.

"Do you like it, Daddy?"

The word hits me right in the gut.  *Daddy.*  She says it so casually, so sweetly, like it's nothing. Like she hasn't just turned my brain into scrambled eggs.

I should say something. I should stop this. She's my daughter's friend. She's young enough to be my actual daughter. There's a fucking baby inside her belly right now, and here I am, hard as rock just letting her stroke my cock on the toilet.

But I don't stop her.

"I asked you a question," she purrs, squeezing just a little tighter at the base. Her thumb circles the head again, and another drop of pre-cum drips out. "Do. You. Like. It. Daddy?"

The word again. She's doing it on purpose. Testing me. Watching my face as she pushes that button.

I swallow. My voice comes out rough, barely recognizable. "Yeah."

"Yeah what?"

Fuck. She's making me say it.

"Yes... I like it."

She beams, and there's something wicked in her smile. "Good Daddy!"

She leans in, and instead of taking me in her mouth, she flicks her tongue across the tip. Just once, collecting the pre-cum like a tasting. Her eyes stay locked on mine the whole time.

"Mmm," she hums, licking her lips. "Taste good, Daddy. Want more?"

I'm completely lost. I nod before I can think. She releases my cock and before I can even react, she's already moving. Her hand drops to the toilet lid, flips it down with a soft thump. She grabs my hips with both hands, turning me around like I'm a mannequin.

I don't resist. Can't resist. My legs feel like rubber as she guides me backward until the back of my knees hit the plastic seat. I sit down hard, the lid cool against my bare ass. She stands in front of me, looking down, that belly of hers curving out, the sweatshirt riding up just enough to show the taut skin stretched over her bump.

She's still completely naked below the waist. That shaved mound, slick and pink between her thighs. I can see a hint of wetness there too, a glistening line that is dripping down and has attached to the inside of her leg.

"Good," she says softly, almost to herself. Then she steps closer, until she's standing right between my knees. I have to spread them wider to accommodate her. She's so close I can smell her, that floral smell reminding me of youngness.

She looks down at my cock, still standing at attention, pre-cum beading at the tip. A smile spreads across her face.

"You know what I think, Daddy?"

I shake my head, throat tight.

"I think you've been lonely." She reaches down again, but this time she doesn't stroke me. Instead, she takes my hand, the hand that's been resting uselessly on my thigh. She lifts it up and guides it toward her. Presses my palm flat against her bare belly.

The skin is warm. Tight. Alive.

She holds my hand there, pressing it against the curve of her pregnancy.

"Feel that?" she whispers.

I don't know what to say. I'm touching a pregnant woman's belly while my dick is still wet from her mouth. This is so far beyond anything I ever imagined.

Cassandra doesn't let me dwell on it. She takes my other hand and places it on her hip, then guides the first hand lower, down the curve of her belly, until my fingers brush the top of her mound. She's sooooooo wet.

"Touch me, Daddy," she says. "I've been so fucking horny this whole pregnancy. My boyfriend can't keep up. But I bet you can."

She's looking at me with those big eyes, waiting. Expecting. Her hand still covers mine, pressing my fingers against her wet pussy.

And I'm done. Done pretending I have any control here. My fingers move on their own, sliding through that slick heat, finding her clit. It's hard and swollen under my touch. She gasps, a sharp little sound, and her hips buck forward into my hand.

"Yeah," she breathes. "Just like that. Right there."

I start circling, slow, clumsy at first, but she doesn't complain. Her hand leaves mine, letting me explore on my own, and instead she reaches down and wraps her fingers around my shaft again. Stroking in rhythm with the circles I'm making on her clit.

We're breathing together now, fast and shallow. The bathroom fan hums overhead. Water drips from the faucet. And I'm finger-fucking my daughter's pregnant friend while she jerks me off on the toilet seat.

She leans down, belly pressing against my chest, and whispers right in my ear.

"Now tell me you want to fuck me, Daddy. Say it."

Her grip tightens on my cock. Her hips grind against my fingers.

I'm trembling. Her scent is everywhere. Her heat is everywhere.

"I want to fuck you," I hear myself say, voice wrecked. "I want to fuck you, Cassandra."

She steps forward, but this time she doesn't stop between my knees. She keeps moving, plants her feet on either side of my thighs, and starts to squat.

I watch her descend, that belly lowering toward me, those thighs spreading wide. Her pussy opens up as she squats, pink and shiny, wetness actually dripping from her.

She hovers there, not quite touching. Her knees are bent, thighs trembling slightly from the effort of holding herself up. Her pussy is maybe an inch above the tip of my dick. I can feel the heat radiating off her, smell the musky sweetness.

She reaches down and wraps her fingers around my shaft again, guiding it upward, aiming it. The head of my cock presses against her slit, nudging at her opening, but she doesn't lower herself any further. She just holds me there, poised at her entrance, the slightest pressure making me ache.

"Say it again," she breathes. "Tell me you want to fuck my pussy."

Her voice is low and her eyes are locked on mine, and there's no shyness in them. No hesitation.

I swallow. My mouth is dry. My heart is slamming against my ribs.

"I want to fuck your pussy," I say, and my voice cracks on the last word.

She smiles. But she still doesn't lower herself.

"Say it like you mean it, Daddy. Tell me what you want to do to this pussy."

She rocks her hips slightly, just enough that the lips of her pussy part against the head of my cock, spreading her wetness over me. I'm shaking. I'm hard enough to hurt. Pre-cum is leaking from me, mixing with her wetness, making everything slippery.

"I want to fuck you," I say more desperate. "I want to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock."

Her smile widens. Her thighs tremble. And then, finally, she begins to lower herself.

Slowly. Inch by inch. Her pussy lips part around the head of my cock, and I feel the heat of her insides. The slick tightness of her walls gripping me as I sink into her. She takes me a few inches and stops, hovering again, her eyes never leaving mine.

"You feel that?" she whispers. "You feel how wet I am for you, Daddy? This pussy is all yours."

She drops another inch. I slide deeper. The sensation is overwhelming. Hot, wet, tight, alive. Her belly presses against my stomach, her sweatshirt bunching up between us. I can feel the curve of her body fitting against mine.

She takes me all the way down until I'm buried completely inside her. She lets out a long, shuddering sigh, and I feel her walls clench around me, squeezing.

"Fuck," she breathes. "That's it Daddy."

She starts to move. Just a slow rock at first, a gentle grind, her hips rolling in circles while she stays impaled on my cock. Her hands grip my shoulders for balance. Her belly presses against me. And I'm inside her, inside my daughter's pregnant friend, watching her face twist with pleasure as she rides me on a toilet seat.

I'm barely holding on. My hands are gripping her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh above her belly, and every slow roll of her hips sends a jolt straight through me. She's warm and tight and wet, and I can feel my balls tightening already.

I close my eyes for a second, trying to think about anything else. Baseball. The World Series. I picture a fastball, the crack of a bat, the roar of the crowd. But all I can feel is her pussy squeezing me, the slick slide of her moving up and down my shaft.

She must sense it. The way I was breathing, the way my body tenses beneath her. She slows her rhythm, like she's savoring every inch of me inside her. She leans in close, her face inches from mine. Her breath is warm against my cheek. Her voice drops to a whisper, low and conspiratorial.

"You're trying not to cum, aren't you, Daddy?"

I open my eyes. She's smirking at me, that wicked little grin that says she knows exactly what's going on in my head. Her hands slide up from my shoulders to cup my jaw, tilting my face up toward hers.

"It's okay," she murmurs, her lips brushing against mine as she speaks. "You can cum in my pussy. I'm already pregnant, remember?"

She says it so casually, so matter-of-fact, like it's the most natural thing in the world. And maybe to her, it is. She's already carrying a baby. What's a little more cum going to do?

But hearing her say it, giving me permission, knowing that she wants me to fill her. It breaks something inside me. The last shred of resistance crumbles.

"You sure?" I manage to gasp out.

She answers by rolling her hips harder, taking me deeper, clenching around me like a fist. Her forehead presses against mine, her eyes locked on my eyes.

"Positive. I want to feel you cum inside me, Daddy. I want to feel your cock twitch and pump your cum into my pussy. Give it to me Daddy."

She starts to ride me faster now, a wet, slapping rhythm that echoes off the bathroom walls.

I'm gone. I can't hold it back any longer. The baseball thoughts evaporate, replaced by nothing but her. The smell of her skin, the sound of her breathing, the feel of her tight little pussy gripping me.

"I'm gonna cum," I groan, my back arching, my hands pulling her hips down onto me.

"Cum for me, Daddy," she purrs. "Cum in my pussy."

And I do.

It hits me in waves, each pulse of my cock sending another hot rush of cum deep inside her. I feel it spilling into her, filling her, and she moans long and low. Her hips grinding against me, milking every last drop. Her walls flutter around me, squeezing, pulsing, as if her own body is drinking me in.

I keep coming, longer than I have in years, until I'm empty and trembling, my chest heaving, my hands shaking against her thighs.

She stays seated on me, her weight pressing down, keeping me buried inside her. She leans in and kisses me. Soft, tender, a complete contrast to everything that just happened. Her lips are warm, and she lingers there for a moment before pulling back, a satisfied smile on her face.

"Damn, Daddy," she whispers. "You needed that."

I can't even form words. I just nod, my head falling back against the toilet tank, trying to catch my breath.

I'm still catching my breath, my cock softening slightly inside her, but she doesn't get off. Instead of lifting herself up, she just keeps her weight pressed down on me, grinding her hips in slow circles.

"Not done yet, Daddy," she murmurs. "I'm not finished."

I feel her shift, tilting her pelvis just so, and the movement sends a jolt through my oversensitive cock. It's almost too much, that raw, electric sensation right after I've come. She rocks her hips, grinding her clit against my pelvis, and I can feel the wetness of her pussy mixed with my cum, a slick, warm mess between us.

"Just....give me a second," I gasp.

"I don't have a second," she says. Her breathing quickening, her nails digging into my shoulders. "I'm so close. You got me all worked up, Daddy. You're not gonna leave me hanging, are you?"

I can feel her walls squeezing around me, not in a rhythmic squeeze but in tiny pulses. She's right there, teetering on the edge. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her mouth slightly open. I take a breath and force myself to focus. I'm half hard now, but still inside her, and every movement she makes rubs my sensitive cock against her slick walls. It's overwhelming, but I don't pull away. I let her use me.

"Go ahead," I whisper, my voice rough. "Take what you need, cum for Daddy."

She lets out a little moan, a sound that's half relief, half desperation. She starts riding me harder. She's not bouncing like before. It's a grinding, circular motion, her hips rolling forward and back. Her breath comes in ragged pants, her tits bouncing under the baggy sweatshirt, her pregnant belly pressing warm against my stomach.

"That's it," Her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling my head back. "That's it, Daddy. Don't move. Just let me......"

Her voice cuts off, replaced by a sharp gasp. Her body tenses, her back arches, every muscle locked tight. Then she shudders, a deep, guttural moan escaping her throat as her orgasm crashes through her. Her pussy clamps down around me, milking my already-empty cock, a series of strong rhythmic contractions.

She rides it out, her grinding becoming jerky, uncontrolled, until finally she slumps forward. Her head drops onto my shoulder. Her body goes limp against me, her breathing hot and fast against my neck.

I wrap my arms around her, holding her steady. We stay like that for a long moment, just breathing, her weight solid and real against me. My softening cock slips out of her as she relaxes, and I feel the warm trickle of cum and her juices sliding down my balls onto the toilet seat.

"Now I'm done," she says, her voice content. She presses a kiss to my lips, then slowly stands up.

I'm left sitting there, completely spent, watching her grab a wad of toilet paper to clean up between her legs. She tosses it in the garbage and then turns back to me with a grin.

"Good morning, Daddy."