I just can't seem to find you. For years I've been searching. Eyes scanning the room for your silhouette. Looking for that sign that triggers those undeniable urges. To make you mine. To claim you for myself. To give in to every one of those primal urges and just... fuck.

How will it start? Will it be a wry smile in the checkout line? A chance meeting at our favorite bar? You simply catching the broad, older guy admiring the way you've packed those child bearing hips into those impossibly tight jeans; Day dreaming about how perfect your outfit hugs the curves of your feminine body?

How does it build? There's something different about a man who truly loves curves, isn't there? The way he builds you up. How he confidently wraps his hands around your mid-section and praises you for rocking that skin-tight, low-cut bodycon dress when he proudly strolls into the restaurant with you on his arm. What is it about him? Why does he insist on holding your belly while he spoons you at night. Holding your soft body so tightly against him. You've never felt so safe. Never felt so wanted. You obsess over the way his strong hands grip your soft flesh when he's enjoying everything your body has to offer.

How does it feel? When you look up at him with pure purpose and pleasure in your eyes as he positions himself against your slit, preparing to take his raw length inside of your fertile body for the first time? He's so loving. So caring. But there's something different in his eyes tonight. The thrill has you absolutely dripping. You gasp as he slowly pushes himself inside of you. Nothing protecting your body from fulfilling it's true purpose: To be bred. Soon his gentle pumps transition to aggressive thrusts. He claws and gnaws at your curvy body. His soothing voice becomes a growl as he comes to grips with what he's doing. The most primal thing that can be done between two people. "You're going to take my fucking baby," he snarls in your ear. Your nails dig into his back as your body responds instinctively. He somehow slips deeper inside of you. His hips meeting yours and pushing his cock as close to your womb as possible. Finally he slams his entire weight into you and you feel his potent seed coating your insides. You know it. He knows it. You lock eyes with him. "Mine. You're mine." He says.

How wonderful does it feel when he caresses your swollen belly from behind? His lips gently kissing your neck as his strong hands momentarily lift the weight of his child off of your lower back. Your swollen folds leaking immediately as you're reminded of how well he cares for you. How he dotes on you. Praises you. Owns you. His finger tips slip into your folds as he tells you to open your eyes and appreciate the view in the mirror. There you are. His perfect vessel. Breasts heavy, swollen, sagging with milk. Your stomach taut and stretched to its limit. The fingers of your man expertly working your clit as you appreciate what he has made you. His words in your ear sending a shiver up your spine. Telling you how he can't wait to watch you bring a life into this world. And how badly he wants to keep you knocked up. How you look so perfect. So sexy. How he can't get enough of your pregnant body and the stares you get as he parades you around in public. Everyone knowing that you took load after load of his cum into your body to get to that state.

Where are you? The one who makes me toss away this childfree lifestyle and embrace what I'm meant to do as a man? There's a woman out there for me. She's the one who makes me look at her and say, "She's her. The mother of my children. I know it. I have to have her. I need to claim her. I am going to breed her."