Bisexual Husband Cheats and Gets Pregnant

Henrik was twenty-eight, married, and losing the argument he had been having with himself since he left the bank. Veronica would be home later, the apartment warm, her mouth soft when she kissed him goodnight. He loved her. He also loved the way his pulse jumped whenever a man's eyes stayed on him a second too long. Tonight the craving had teeth. He wanted the thrill of cheating, wanted another man's hands on him while his wedding band sat heavy against the wood of the bar.

He ordered a soda. He wanted every choice to be his. Across the room a man watched him without pretending otherwise, broad through the shoulders, dark hair cut close, a mouth made for saying filthy things low. When he came over he set his drink down and offered a hand.

"Lionel," he said. "Thirty-two. You look like you're deciding whether to be good."

"Henrik." The name came out rougher than he meant. "I'm not deciding. I'm already bad."

Lionel's thumb stroked once across his knuckles. They talked about ordinary things—Lionel ran a contracting crew, Henrik did compliance—while the air between them thickened. Their knees touched. Henrik thought of Veronica's unanswered text and felt the betrayal bloom hot and sweet.

"You've been staring at my mouth," Lionel said.

"You've been letting me."

"Then stop pretending this ends with a drink."

The tension snapped taut. Henrik knew that if he stayed he was going to cheat. He stayed, already hard, already gone.

Lionel did not ease them into it. He leaned closer, voice a private scrape against Henrik's ear, and said he had been hard since he watched Henrik walk in. He wanted to get him somewhere private, strip him, and breed him until he was dripping. The words landed like a hand between Henrik's legs. His cock jumped against his zipper. He should have laughed it off. Instead his mouth went dry and his hips shifted on the stool, chasing pressure he had no right to want.

"You don't even know me," Henrik said, and it came out breathless.

"I know you want it." Lionel's palm settled high on his thigh, heavy, possessive, nowhere near accidental. "I know that ring isn't stopping you from spreading for me in your head. Say you don't want a man to knock you up and I'll walk."

Henrik's throat worked. The bar noise fell away. He pictured Lionel's cock pushing into him, pictured being filled until it took, pictured walking back to Veronica with another man's claim leaking out of him and somehow staying. The fantasy was impossible and it made him ache anyway. "I want it," he said. "I want you to breed me."

Lionel's eyes went dark. He paid, took Henrik's wrist, and led him out into the cool night without another question. Two blocks over a hotel glowed above a quiet lobby. Lionel got a room with cash and a steady hand. The elevator ride was a held breath. The second the door shut behind them Henrik was against it, Lionel's mouth on his, kissing him like he meant to ruin him.

Henrik kissed back just as hard. Their tongues slid, wet and greedy. Lionel's hands were everywhere—gripping his ass, shoving up under his shirt, palming his chest until his nipples stung. Henrik ground against the thick ridge in Lionel's pants and moaned into the kiss, shameless. Clothes came off in rough pulls. Shirts hit the carpet. Pants and briefs followed. Naked, Lionel was all heat and muscle, cock heavy and flushed, already wet at the tip. Henrik's own cock stood rigid against his stomach, leaking.

"Look at you," Lionel said, backing him toward the bed, one hand wrapped around Henrik's throat just tight enough to thrill. "Pretty married thing, begging to get bred. I'm going to fuck a baby into you. I'm going to pump you so full you feel it for weeks."

"Yes," Henrik gasped. The dirty talk shoved him over the edge of hesitation and into full, hungry lust. He wanted the cheating. He wanted the risk. He wanted Lionel's load buried as deep as a man could put it. "Do it. Get me pregnant. I want your cum."

Lionel shoved him onto the mattress and came down over him, missionary, pinning Henrik's wrists above his head for one burning second before letting go to hook those long legs up and open. Henrik spread willingly, knees drawn high, hole clenching on nothing. Lionel spat into his palm, slicked himself, and pressed the broad head against Henrik's entrance. He waited, eyes locked, until Henrik nodded hard.

"Yes. Fuck me. Breed me."

Lionel pushed in slow and relentless, stretching him open inch by thick inch. The burn flared and melted into a deep, filthy fullness that made Henrik's eyes roll. He grabbed at Lionel's shoulders and pulled him deeper, moaning when the heavy cock seated all the way, balls pressed flush to his ass.

"Tight," Lionel growled. "Made to take a load." He drew back and slammed in, setting a rough rhythm that jolted the headboard. Each thrust punched a broken sound out of Henrik. The angle was brutal and perfect, cock dragging over the spot that made his thighs shake. Lionel kept talking, voice wrecked and mean with want. "Gonna knock you up. Gonna fuck my kid into this greedy hole. Your wife doesn't get this. This is mine. You're going to swell with what I put in you."

"Please," Henrik begged, meeting every stroke. His wedding band flashed when he clutched the sheets. The guilt only made him hotter. "Harder. Breed me. I want it. I want to get pregnant from your cock."

Lionel fucked him like he meant the promise, hips snapping, sweat slicking their chests where they pressed together. He kissed Henrik filthy and deep between thrusts, swallowing his moans, then bit his jaw and drove in to the root. Henrik's cock bounced against his stomach, untouched and dripping. He was close already, wound so tight he could barely breathe.

Lionel pulled out without warning. Henrik whined at the emptiness. Strong hands flipped him onto his knees, chest down, ass up, the mattress dipping as Lionel knelt behind him. Doggy. Exposed. Henrik reached back and spread himself, offering his hole, and Lionel swore.

"That's it. Present for me." He sank back in with one long thrust and started pounding, the slap of skin loud in the room. This angle went deeper. Henrik buried his face in the pillow and cried out, pushing back, taking every inch. Lionel's hands bruised his hips. "Feel that? That's me getting you pregnant. Every stroke. I'm going to cream this hole until it sticks."

"Yes—fuck—give it to me," Henrik sobbed. "Fill me. I need your load. Breed your cheating slut."

Lionel groaned, pace turning savage. He reached under and stroked Henrik once, twice, then stopped, denying him, keeping the edge sharp. "Not yet. You come when I'm done using you." He fucked through Henrik's shaking, then hauled him up and around with greedy hands.

They rearranged in a mess of limbs and panting. Lionel stretched out on his back, cock glistening, and dragged Henrik over him. "Ride me. Reverse. I want to watch that ass take it while I knock you up."

Henrik swung a leg over and sank down facing Lionel's feet, reverse cowboy, the thick cock spearing up into him until he was seated to the base. The stretch stole his breath. He braced his hands on Lionel's thighs and started to move, rolling his hips, fucking himself in long, wet strokes. Lionel gripped his waist and thrust up to meet him, controlling the pace even from below, dominating every inch Henrik tried to take.

"Look at you," Lionel rasped. "Bouncing on my cock like you were built for breeding. Beg for it."

"Please," Henrik moaned, voice cracking. He rode harder, ass slapping down, hole clenching greedily around the shaft. "Please, Lionel. Cum in me. Knock me up. I want your load so bad. Fill me. Breed me deep. Make me pregnant."

"Again."

"Breed me. Put a baby in me. I'm yours—fuck—give me every drop."

Lionel snarled and slammed up, holding Henrik down so he couldn't rise. The first orgasm hit him hard. He came with a rough shout, cock pulsing, flooding Henrik's hole with thick, hot cum. Henrik felt the rush of it, the sudden wet heat painting him inside, and he sobbed with want, grinding down to keep it in.

Lionel wasn't finished. He stayed hard, or got hard again almost at once, still buried in the mess he'd made. He rolled his hips and started fucking up into the creampie, churning his own load, the sound obscene. "More," he said. "You're not bred until I say you are."

Henrik bounced on him, desperate, cum leaking around the shaft and slicking his thighs. The oversensitive drag made his vision blur. Lionel sat up behind him, chest to Henrik's back, one arm locked across his chest, the other hand guiding his hips. He fucked him like that, deep and relentless, mouth at his ear promising ruin.

"Second load. Deeper. I'm going to stuff you until you're dripping down your legs and still full. You're going to carry what I give you."

"Yes—yes—please, another one—" Henrik reached down and stroked himself at last, fist flying, ass milking Lionel's cock. "Cum in me again. Breed me. I need it. I need to be pregnant."

Lionel drove in and came a second time, groaning into Henrik's shoulder, pumping another heavy flood into the already soaked hole. The feeling of being filled again, stretched around a pulsing cock, tipped Henrik over. He came with a broken cry, striping his own stomach and hand, hole spasming so hard Lionel cursed and kept thrusting through it, working every drop deeper.

They didn't stop. Lionel pushed him forward onto his hands and knees again and slid back in while both of them were still shaking, fucking the creampie with slow, possessive strokes that turned rough all over again. Henrik was oversensitive, whimpering, and he still shoved back for more.

"One more," Lionel said, voice hoarse with raw want. "You're going to take one more. I want you so full you can't hold it."

"Give it to me," Henrik begged, wrecked and blissed, bisexual hunger burning through every nerve. "All of it. Breed me. Make it take."

Lionel fucked him through the aftershocks, pace building, the wet squelch of cum and cock filling the room. Their moans tangled, shameless, two men lost in it. When Lionel came the third time he buried himself to the hilt and held there, grinding, emptying in long pulses that Henrik felt in his gut. He stayed plugged deep until the throbbing eased, then pulled out slow. Cum spilled in a thick rush down Henrik's balls. Lionel pushed two fingers in and stuffed it back, fucking the load into him with a filthy curl of his wrist.

"Keep it," he ordered. "That's mine. That's the breeding."

Henrik collapsed onto the sheets, hole fluttering, stuffed and leaking, smiling into the pillow like a man who had gotten exactly what he came for. Lionel lay over him a moment longer, kissing the back of his neck, still promising in a rough whisper that it would take, that Henrik would swell with it, that the cheating would live inside him. Henrik believed him with his whole shaking body. He clenched and held every drop he could.

Weeks later the impossible had settled into fact. A quiet clinic, a stunned nurse, a test Henrik read twice with his heart hammering. He was pregnant. Lionel's raw breeding had taken. The early swell already curved his belly under his shirt, tender when he pressed a palm to it on the train home. He unlocked the apartment and stepped inside, the evidence of his bisexual cheating permanent and growing, impossible to hide from the woman who loved him.

Veronica, twenty-seven and home from her shift at the design studio, looked up from the couch and saw it at once.