My Stepson Accidentally Got Me Pregnant-Incest Story by Salty Vixen

I never planned for any of this. I’m Debbie. Forty-two. Married to a man who travels three weeks out of four. My stepson, Jake, is twenty-three, lives in the guest house behind ours, and has been home from college for the summer. He is built like he never stopped lifting—broad shoulders, thick thighs, that quiet way of looking at you that makes your stomach drop. I told myself I didn’t notice. I told myself a lot of things.

That afternoon the house was empty except for me. My husband was in Dallas. Jake was supposed to be at the gym. I locked the bedroom door anyway, stripped, and laid out the toy I’d bought two months earlier and only used twice. It was thick, tapered, with a flared base. I wanted it in my ass. I wanted to feel full and filthy and not think about anything else.

I worked it in slowly with lube, on my knees on the bed, ass up, face in the pillow. The stretch burned, then settled into that deep, dirty pressure I craved. I pushed until the widest part popped past my ring and the base sat flush against me. I reached back and pressed on it, rocking, moaning into the sheets. My clit was swollen. I rubbed it in tight circles while the toy sat heavy inside me.

I don’t know how long I stayed like that. Long enough that my thighs started shaking. Long enough that I came once, clenching hard around the silicone, a wet sound leaving my mouth that embarrassed me even alone.

When I tried to pull it out, it wouldn’t come.

I tugged. The base slipped in my fingers. I pulled harder and felt a sharp, wrong resistance. Panic hit fast. I sat up, reached back with both hands, tried different angles. Nothing. It was seated too deep, or I’d clenched too hard after the orgasm, or the lube had dried. My hole fluttered around it and refused to let go.

I was still naked, still shiny with lube, heart slamming, when I heard the front door. Jake’s voice called my name from downstairs.

“Debbie? You home?”

I froze. Then I did the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I wrapped a robe around myself, didn’t tie it well, and opened the bedroom door just enough to shout that I needed help. I couldn’t get the words “stuck toy” out of my mouth at first. I just said I was in trouble and I needed him upstairs. Now.

He took the stairs two at a time. When he saw me standing there with the robe hanging open, he stopped. His eyes went to my tits first, then lower, then he looked away like he’d been burned.

“What’s wrong?”

I told him. Face burning. Voice small. That I had something inside me and I couldn’t get it out and I was scared and please don’t tell his father.

Jake didn’t laugh. He didn’t look disgusted. He just said, “Okay. Lie down. Let me see.”

I lay on my side on the bed, robe pushed up over my hips. He sat behind me. I felt his hands—warm, callused—on my ass cheek, spreading me. He swore under his breath.

“Jesus, Debbie. It’s in there good.”

He tried to grip the base. His fingers slipped. He added more lube from the bottle on the nightstand, working it around my stretched rim. Every time he pressed or tugged, my hole fluttered and a little sound escaped me. I was mortified. I was also wetter than I’d been when I put the thing in.

“Relax,” he said. His voice had dropped. “You’re clamping down. Breathe out and push like you’re trying to go.”

I did. He pulled steadily. The toy moved a fraction, then stopped. He adjusted his grip, one hand on my hip to hold me still, the other working the base in small twists. The movement sent sparks up my spine. I bit the pillow.

“It’s coming,” he muttered. “Just… stay open for me.”

The toy slid out with a wet pop that made both of us inhale. I felt suddenly empty and exposed. Jake held the toy up for a second, looking at it, then set it on the towel. He didn’t move his other hand off my ass.

I should have thanked him and pulled the robe down and ended it. Instead I stayed there, ass still presented, hole twitching in the air.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” My voice was wrecked. “Thank you. I— I couldn’t get it myself.”

His thumb brushed the rim of my hole. Just once. Testing. I didn’t pull away.

“It’s red,” he said. “Puffy. You used it hard.”

I nodded into the pillow.

He was quiet for a few seconds. Then: “You want it back in? Or… something else.”

I turned my head enough to look at him over my shoulder. His cock was obvious in his gym shorts, thick and already half-hard from what he’d just done. I stared at it. He didn’t hide it.

“Something else,” I whispered.

He stood, shoved the shorts down. His cock sprang out heavy, darker than the rest of him, veined, the head already wet. It was bigger than the toy. Thicker at the base. I felt my hole clench at the sight of it.

“You sure?” he asked. Last chance.

“Put it in me,” I said. “Please. I need to feel something real.”

He climbed on the bed behind me. I heard the click of the lube bottle again. He poured it over his cock and stroked it, then pressed the head against my used hole. It was hotter than the silicone, and it pulsed.

He pushed.

The first inch burned. I gasped and grabbed the sheets. He held my hips and fed it in slow, letting my ass stretch around him the way it had stretched around the toy, only this time there was heat and blood and the knowledge that it was my stepson doing it. When the head popped inside, we both made a sound.

“Fuck, Debbie. You’re tight even after that thing.”

He gave me more. Inch by inch until his hips met my ass and I was stuffed fuller than the toy had ever gotten me. I could feel him throbbing. I could feel how deep he was.

He started to move.

Short strokes at first, letting me adjust. Then longer. The wet sound of lube and the slap of his body against mine filled the room. I pushed back on him because I couldn’t help it. Every thrust dragged over that spot inside that made my legs shake.

“That’s it,” he said, voice low and rough. “Take it. You wanted this, didn’t you? Calling me up here with that thing in your ass.”

I didn’t answer with words. I just moaned and reached under myself to rub my clit. He noticed. He reached around, knocked my hand away, and did it himself—two fingers circling while he fucked my ass in a steady, deep rhythm.

I came harder than I had on the toy. My hole clamped down on his cock and I cried out his name. He didn’t stop. He fucked me through it, holding my hips so I couldn’t squirm away, until the overstimulation made me whimper.

“I’m not done,” he said. “You wanted the toy replaced. This is better.”

He pulled out, flipped me onto my back, pushed my knees to my chest, and shoved back into my ass in one long stroke. The new angle made me see stars. He braced over me, looking down at my face while he used my hole. I watched his stomach flex, watched his cock disappear into me over and over.

“Gonna come in you,” he warned. “You want that?”

“Yes. Inside. Don’t pull out.”

He slammed in deep and stayed there, grinding, and I felt him pulse. Thick, hot spurts filled my ass. He groaned through his teeth and kept coming, more than I expected, until I felt it start to leak around his cock even while he was still buried.

He stayed inside me for a long minute after, breathing hard, still twitching. When he finally pulled out, a thick line of cum followed and ran down my crack onto the sheets.

We both stared at it.

That should have been the end. It wasn’t.

He came back the next afternoon. And the next. Sometimes I had the toy in already so he could pull it out and replace it with himself. Sometimes I was empty and he just bent me over the bathroom sink or the kitchen counter when his father was still at the airport. He always came in my ass. I always told him to.

I started missing my period three weeks later.

I took three tests. All positive.

I sat on the toilet with the third one in my hand and thought about the afternoon the toy got stuck, the way his cum had leaked out of me afterward, the way we’d done it again and again without thinking about anything except how good it felt to have him split me open. Anal isn’t supposed to get you pregnant. People say that. People are wrong sometimes. Or maybe one of those times he’d pulled out of my ass and shoved into my pussy for a few strokes before going back. I don’t even remember clearly. I just remember being full of him and not caring where.

I told him first.

He went pale, then hard again, like the news itself did something to him. We fucked that same night with me on my back, his hand on my still-flat stomach, his cock in my ass again because that’s what we knew. He came inside me while he said he was sorry and that he wasn’t sorry at all.

I haven’t told my husband yet.

I’m fourteen weeks now. The baby is his. I know it in my body the same way I knew the toy was stuck that first day. Jake still comes to the house when we’re alone. He still pulls whatever I’m using out of me and puts himself there instead. He still fills my ass until it drips. Sometimes he puts a hand on my belly while he does it and tells me this is how it started.

I let him.

I asked for it.

And every time he replaces the toy with his cock and comes inside me, I come too—harder than I ever did alone—because the thing that was supposed to be a dirty secret turned into the thing growing in me, and I don’t want it any other way.