PREGNANT AND TRAPPED WITH MY DILFS

4. Can it fit?

4: Lyra’s POV

I squirmed against the hot rod pressing against the crack of my ass. When did Elliot get back?

Sleep was still deep in my eyes, but I couldn't ignore the hardness against my back. It was warm and anything but tender. The skin wasn't smooth, yet I had a feeling it would glide easily inside me—if I was wet enough, that is.

“Elliot?” I called gently. The last I saw him, he was in a hurry to get out of the house. There was no way he was suddenly back and cuddling me. He might have been eager to be inside me nonstop when we were newly dating, but not after I told him I was pregnant. I didn't want to admit it, but it was obvious from the look on his face that he felt bound by this pregnancy rather than excited.

“Elliot?” I called again as I reached behind me to hold him.

So thick.

I felt down to the smoothness of his crotch and, unlike my fiancé who made it a big deal to shave off all the hair, this one was full. Giving a blowjob would get some stuck in my teeth.

But wait. If this isn't Elliot, then who?

I rolled off the bed and landed on my knees, my eyes flashing in a panic. I should be alone. Unless… my eyes traced up to the face of the figure lying on their side, snoring softly. Unless my father-in-law had come in last night, found me crying, cuddled me to sleep, and eventually fell asleep by my side.

“Daddy?” I whispered, but he didn't stir.

So clearly, he was asleep—and sporting the roughest hard-on I've ever seen. Veins were everywhere, bulging under the skin of his c**k. Have I mentioned the thickness? I kept my gaze trained on his face so I'd take note as soon as he woke up. My fingers, however, were doing the main work.

His girth pumped with more blood, appearing more engorged than the first time I'd seen it. As the seconds passed, it became difficult for the tips of my fingers to wrap around him and actually touch.

“Wow,” I gasped as I flickered my gaze down. I was only at the tip. So, what if I tried to take him all in?

His c**k jutted and shot some precum into the middle of my palm as if to answer the question. I used it as lube, rubbing it across the only smooth, even surface of the whole length of his c**k before I caught myself.

“What are you doing, Lyra? He's your father-in-law.” I scolded myself, but I didn't take my hands off. He hadn't woken up, the smell of him still permeating the air, and I was still curious—to know what he tasted like, but more importantly, if he'd fit.

Right now, I wasn't trying to f**k him. “Just curious,” I told myself as I climbed onto the bed, his monstrosity of a c**k still in hand. I'd given up on trying to wrap around and touch, and settled for pumping him instead.

How much seed could he pump in one round? Enough to fill up my womb, that was for sure. But I wasn't trying to paint my womb with his c**k. At least not while he was sleeping. I just wanted to know if he’d fit. Nothing personal.

I spread my legs and hooked his hips with my knees. My own wetness stretched between my p***y lips as they parted from the movement. The squelching sound of his c**k parting me even further resounded through the silence of the room.

“Oh,” I moaned, feeling myself get fuller until I could no longer push him in. When I lowered my head, I realized he wasn't even halfway there. Pushing any further would tear me apart.

I looked up and saw his angelic face. Kevin was still fast asleep, and he had the calmest personality of any DILF I'd ever met. When handling my terror of a mother, he never once raised his voice to match hers, and he was a prodigy in the medical world. Yet he packed this much.

Somehow, I felt jealous of Mom, but from their arguments in the past, she didn't appreciate him. Apparently, his high s*x drive was too much for her; she only wanted to do it once or twice per month.

“Okay, one more inch,” I told myself, but the moment I jutted forward, my world turned blank.

Fuck. I passed out.

When I opened my eyes, the curtains had been drawn and sunlight was streaking in. The other side of the bed was empty and cold. “Was it all a dream?” I asked myself as I lowered my fingers between my thighs, but the wetness and sheer throbbing told me otherwise.

I did those things. How would I face him now? Did he know? Did he wake up and see the result of my greediness?

I climbed out of bed, took a warm shower, and changed into something homely. I stepped out in my honey silk skirt and cotton shirt with a lace, knee-length cover-up. The moment I stepped out, my nose was immediately assaulted by the smell of food. And surprisingly, not a single one of the ingredients I perceived made me nauseous.

Feeling brave, I went toward the kitchen but was stopped before I could even step in. Jake came out first, an apron tied around his waist, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up above his biceps, which flexed with every movement. This… this, which could only be achieved with years of working out with a steady routine, was what I sought out in older men. It made them sexy and irresistible.

Then Kevin stepped out.

“Breakfast is ready. Why don't you sit in the dining room while we serve you?” he said.

“I think we should check in on her first.” My heart thumped. Was he saying it because of what I did?

I lowered my head and squeezed my eyes shut, prepared to explain and apologize, when he patted my shoulders and led me to the living room with Jake trailing behind us.

“Tell me, darling, did you have a good sleep?” I nodded.

“No soreness? Are there any cramps? Your father-in-law told me you had some yesterday.” I shook my head again before he straightened up. “Any cravings? What would you like? There's a buffet.”

“I don't have any cravings, so I'll—”

“We’ll serve it all, then you taste the ones that you like. Is that okay?” I wanted to reject it and tell him he didn't have to, but the sweat soaking their collars told me they'd put in lots of work to feed me. The least I could do was eat.

“Okay.” I smiled as they served the food and we started to eat.

“The food was delicious,” I smiled as I wiped the corners of my mouth.

“That's good.” Jake came to my side and poured me a glass of water, placing some pills on a plate.

“What's this?” I frowned. I wasn't on any medications.

“Folic acid. For the baby,” he said.

I took the pills, feeling grateful to have a stepfather this kind and knowledgeable. When I searched his eyes for something anythingto show that he was at least aware of what happened between us, I got nothing. The small smile on the corners of his lips didn't falter, nor did he stop asking if there was something I wanted.

Guilt filled my heart. I shouldn't have tried to hide from them both yesterday, nor should I have done that.