Cheating GF Pregnant with Possible Secret Baby - Conflicted Creampie - Part 7

Read previous part: Fuckfest with BF's Best Friend - All Over House Shower Sex Foreplay Creampie - Part 6

The apartment felt strangely quieter these days, even though nothing on the surface had changed. I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom, completely naked, hands trembling as they rested on my lower belly. The test lay on the sink behind me-two bold pink lines staring back like an accusation. Pregnant. Eight weeks, according to the doctor I’d seen in secret yesterday. My full C-cup breasts already felt heavier, more sensitive, the dark pink nipples tighter than usual. My hips seemed a little wider, my skin glowing in that soft, fertile way that made me look even more fuckable. But inside… inside I was a storm of emotions I couldn’t name.
Joy. Terror. Guilt so sharp it made my chest ache. And the constant, gnawing doubt that twisted like a knife between my legs every single day.
Whose baby was this?
Mike and I had been having regular, gentle sex the entire time-quick missionary sessions where he’d finish inside me with soft groans and a kiss on my forehead. But Jake… Jake had been flooding me for months. Thick, powerful loads pumped deep into my womb while Mike slept next door, while he was away on that weekend trip, in the shower, on the kitchen counter, bent over the couch. Creampie after creampie, sometimes three or four times a day during that wild weekend when Mike was out of the city. The math didn’t lie. The timing pointed straight to Jake. But there was still that tiny sliver of possibility it was Mike’s. And that sliver kept me silent.
I hadn’t told either of them.
Not Mike, who came home every evening with flowers or takeout, completely oblivious, thinking we were the perfect couple. Not Jake, who still snuck over whenever Mike was at the office or in meetings, fucking me raw and whispering how addicted he was to my “cheating pussy.” I kept the secret locked tight inside me, letting it grow along with the tiny life I now carried.
The guilt was eating me alive, but the lust… the lust had only gotten stronger. My body was changing, becoming more sensitive, more responsive. My pussy stayed constantly wet these days, slick and swollen, aching for cock even while my heart felt heavy with shame.
That Friday evening was the worst kind of torture.
Mike had suggested a casual night in-just the three of us again, like old times. “Jake’s coming over for pizza and beers. It’ll be fun, babe.” I smiled and nodded, but my stomach twisted. I wore a loose oversized sweater and soft leggings, trying to hide the subtle changes in my body, but my breasts strained against the fabric, nipples visibly hard from the slightest brush of cloth.
Jake arrived at 7:30, looking devastating as always-dark jeans, fitted gray Henley that hugged his broad chest. The moment our eyes met over Mike’s shoulder, heat flared between my legs. He knew something was different. He always knew. His gaze dropped to my chest for a split second, then back to my face with that wicked, knowing smirk.
We ate pizza in the living room, the air thick with the savory scent of melted cheese, spicy pepperoni, and cold beer. Mike laughed loudly, completely relaxed, talking about work while Jake’s foot brushed mine under the coffee table. Every casual touch sent electricity straight to my core. My pussy throbbed, already leaking into my panties, the sweet peach musk of my pregnancy-heightened arousal mixing with the food smells in a way that made me dizzy.
By 10 p.m., Mike was pleasantly buzzed and suggested we watch a movie. He stretched out on the big sectional, pulling me against his chest like always. Jake took the armchair across from us. The lights were dim, the TV flickering with some action film I couldn’t focus on. Mike’s hand rested on my hip, innocent and affectionate. But Jake’s eyes burned into me from across the room, dark with hunger.
Halfway through the movie, Mike’s breathing grew heavier. He’d had one too many beers. His hand slipped lower, cupping my ass sleepily. “Love you, Soph,” he murmured, eyes half-closed.
I whispered it back, guilt stabbing through me like ice.
Then Jake moved.
He stood silently, crossed the room, and knelt in front of me on the couch while Mike dozed right beside us. My heart hammered. Mike’s soft snores filled the space between the movie explosions. Jake’s big hands slid up my thighs, peeling my leggings and panties down just enough to expose my soaked pussy. The scent hit him immediately-stronger now because of the pregnancy, sweeter, creamier, almost addictive. He inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut for a second.
“Fuck, Soph… you smell even better lately,” he breathed, so quietly only I could hear.
He leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly through my slick folds. I bit my lip hard to stay silent, one hand gripping the couch cushion while the other stayed on Mike’s chest, pretending everything was normal. Jake ate me with slow, deliberate licks-long strokes from my entrance to my swollen clit, sucking gently, savoring every drop of my heightened arousal. The wet, obscene slurping sounds were soft but unmistakable in the quiet room. My juices coated his chin, dripping down as he pushed two thick fingers inside me, curling them perfectly against my g-spot.
I was soaking. Pregnancy had made me ridiculously sensitive-every flick of his tongue sent sparks through my entire body. My breasts ached, nipples diamond-hard under the sweater. I could feel the baby-our possible baby-safe and tiny inside me while his father’s best friend devoured my cheating cunt just inches from my sleeping boyfriend.
The guilt crashed over me in waves. This was wrong. So fucking wrong. I was carrying a child that might belong to the man licking me right now, and here I was letting it happen while Mike trusted me completely. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes even as pleasure built low in my belly. I felt dirty. I felt ashamed. And I felt more turned on than ever.
Jake pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his tongue, fucking me deep while his nose rubbed my clit. I came hard but silently-body shaking, pussy spasming around his tongue, a fresh gush of sweet cream flooding his mouth. He drank every drop, groaning softly against my folds.
Mike stirred slightly beside me. “Mmm… you okay, babe?” he mumbled, still mostly asleep.
“Yeah… just a cramp,” I whispered, voice trembling.
Jake didn’t stop. The second Mike’s breathing evened out again, he stood, opened his jeans, and pulled out his thick, rock-hard cock. It was leaking precum, heavy and veined, the head flushed dark. He rubbed it slowly through my slick pussy lips, coating himself in my juices and his own saliva, then pushed inside me in one long, deep thrust.
I had to bury my face in Mike’s shoulder to muffle my moan. Jake’s cock felt bigger than ever, stretching my pregnant pussy perfectly, bottoming out against my cervix. He started fucking me right there on the couch-slow, deep strokes while Mike slept inches away. The wet, rhythmic squelching of his thick shaft plunging into my creamy hole was dangerously loud, but the movie covered most of it.
Every thrust pushed guilt and pleasure through me in equal measure. I felt the baby inside me, safe but surrounded by the very act that might have created it. Tears slipped down my cheeks even as my hips rolled back to meet Jake’s cock. I was a terrible person. A cheating whore. A pregnant woman letting her boyfriend’s best friend use her while the father-whichever one he was-snored beside us.
Jake leaned down, lips brushing my ear. “Your pussy is gripping me so tight tonight, Soph. So fucking wet and hot. You feel different… even better.” His hand slid under my sweater, cupping one heavy, sensitive breast, thumb circling my nipple. Milk hadn’t come in yet, but the fullness was new, erotic, overwhelming.
I came again, harder this time, biting Mike’s shirt to stay quiet as my pussy milked Jake’s cock in powerful spasms. The guilt made the orgasm sharper, darker, more intense. Jake followed right after, burying himself deep and flooding me with another thick, hot load of cum. I felt every pulse, every spurt painting my insides, possibly reaching the tiny life growing there. The thought made me sob silently even as aftershocks rippled through me.
He stayed inside me for a long moment, kissing the back of my neck softly while his cum leaked out around his cock, soaking my leggings and the couch cushion. Then he pulled out carefully, tucked himself away, and returned to his armchair like nothing had happened.
I lay there against Mike, cum slowly dripping from my well-fucked pussy, heart shattering and body still buzzing. The scent of fresh sex-creamy cum, sweet pregnant pussy, masculine sweat-hung heavy in the living room, barely masked by the pumpkin candle.
Mike woke up an hour later, groggy and affectionate, pulling me into a sleepy kiss. “Best night in,” he murmured, completely unaware that his best friend’s load was still leaking out of me onto his couch.
I smiled weakly and told him I loved him.
Inside, I was drowning.
I still hadn’t told either of them about the pregnancy. The doubt ate at me every single day-who was the father? Mike, with his gentle love and steady life? Or Jake, with his raw passion and dangerous cock that had claimed me so many times?
Every time they fucked me after that-Mike in our bed at night, soft and loving, or Jake in stolen moments during the day, rough and filthy-I felt the same painful mix. Pleasure so intense it made me cry. Guilt so heavy it crushed my chest. The secret baby growing inside me while two men used my body, neither knowing the truth.
I touched my belly constantly in private, whispering silent apologies to the little life inside. “I’m sorry… Mommy’s so confused… so bad…”
But the fucking never stopped.
And the doubt only made me wetter.
The weekend after the pregnancy test, Mike had another late night at the office. Jake came over the second his car left the driveway. He found me in the bedroom, standing in front of the mirror again, hands on my belly.
He didn’t ask questions. He just stripped me slowly, laid me on our bed, and worshipped every inch of my changing body. He kissed my breasts for long minutes, sucking gently on my sensitive nipples until I whimpered. He licked my pussy with slow, reverent strokes, tasting the new sweetness pregnancy had given me. Then he fucked me deep and slow, face to face, eyes locked on mine as he filled me again.
I cried the entire time-tears of guilt, pleasure, fear, and something dangerously close to love for the man who might have given me this baby.
He kissed my tears away and whispered, “Whatever’s going on with you, Soph… I’ve got you.”
I still didn’t tell him.
The secret stayed locked inside me, growing bigger every day, just like the child whose father I might never be brave enough to name.
And every time either man slid inside me, the guilt and the lust twisted together into something so dark and addictive I couldn’t stop chasing it.