The Breeding of Jill Pastrianni - Cover

The Breeding of Jill Pastrianni

Copyright© 2024 by Lubrican

Chapter 7

Romance Sex Story: Chapter 7 - Bobby thought he was just going next door to help Mrs. Pastrianni change a light bulb. He held the ladder while she climbed and reached to get the light bulb. When she did, it was obvious she wasn't wearing panties. Mrs. Pastrianni was fifteen years older than Bobby. Not only that, she was white and Bobby was black. There was no way she did that on purpose, right? Suddenly, the fantasies he'd had about Mrs. Pastrianni were coming true. Then his sister caught them... and she wanted to join in.

Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   mt/Fa   Fa/ft   Teenagers   Consensual   BiSexual   Fiction   Incest   Brother   Sister   Interracial   Black Male   Black Female   White Female   First   Lactation   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Petting   Pregnancy   Safe Sex   Size  

It was emotional for Tasha to leave home, too. Part of that was leaving me. She felt like she was leaving all her happiness behind. It was silly, even to me. I knew this had to happen, and that she’d make new friends, and go places and do things. She’d meet lots of horny young men who would look at her and dream. And they’d hit on her, and she’d be horny, too. Maybe she’d think, “Just this once and I’ll think about Bobby while I do it.” But it would end up being more than once, because she wouldn’t do this with just any old guy. She’d already like him, and if they got intimate she’d like him more.

In this case I was the mature one as she cried about leaving. She never did that in front of Mom or Dad. She had to feign excitement about leaving home. But when she was in my arms she could moan and cry and I’d tell her lies about how in a year I could join her and we could be together again. I’d tell her things would be so different that she’d be distracted. And besides, I could facetime her every night. And Jill could, too.

In any case, August 15th came and Dad and I waved as Mom drove my lover away. I had wet eyes, too, and Dad hugged me and said she’d be fine, and it was nice of me to be worried about her.

We went back inside and I said I was going for a run. I ran around the block to Jill’s back gate and she held me while I cried.

“I miss her, too,” she whispered in my ear. “Make love to me and we’ll both think about her as we do it.”

It’s not possible to do that, by the way. You can’t think about another woman while you make love to a different woman. Your mind bounces back and forth between the two. That’s why, if I was married, I could never go to a prostitute. I’d think about my wife and probably not even be able to get it up.

In my situation, though, the women wanted me to think about them, even while I was making love. I squirted my frustration and sadness into Jill’s belly. It was almost cathartic, and I think Jill felt the same way.

It’s possible that the frustration and sadness I loaded her womb with that day was the load that bred her with my baby.


It was October before Jill told me she was going to have my child. Our child. I was flabbergasted and unbelieving. I had enjoyed the errant thought, now and then, of getting both Jill and my sister pregnant, but I never believed it would happen. Now, I had been making love to a pregnant woman for a month and didn’t even know it!

“I’m not unhappy, Bobby,” she said, as I just stood there with my mouth open. “But there are consequences to this, and we both have to face them.”

I thought she meant telling the world that Bobby Richards had climbed between her soft thighs and fathered a child on her.

“I’m not going to make you face some of those consequences,” she went on. “I want to have your baby, but I can’t have it in Carrington. I won’t do that to you.”

“To me?” I was astonished. “What could possibly happen to me? You’re the one they’d try to put in jail.”

“You’re almost seventeen,” she said. “You can legally consent. But there would still be a firestorm around you and I don’t want you to have to deal with that in your senior year of high school. I’m going to move. We’ll have to be apart, at least for a while. I’ll have the baby and, eventually, you’ll be able to visit and meet our child. It has to be done in this way, Bobby. That’s the price we have to pay for loving each other.” She sat back. “Unless you want me to get an abortion.”

Within seconds I was crying and on my knees and begging her not to do that. She later told me she wouldn’t have, even if I’d been on board with the idea. The child she’d never been able to have with Danny or Jerome was now in her womb, thanks to the third man she’d fallen in love with.

“Stop,” she said, pulling me up and into a hug. “I have to suffer, too. I think I understand how Danny felt whenever he had to deploy and leave me at home. This doesn’t have to be forever. I’m perfectly happy being a single mom. And you need to do what Tasha is doing. You need to see to your future. You will get to visit me, sooner or later. We just have to be apart for a while.”

Thanksgiving helped, too, because Tasha came home for four days. Her room was still there and her bed was still there.

And I was still there.

The first thing Mom said after the initial hugs was, “Your brother missed you a lot. I caught him sniffing some of the clothes you left behind.”

“Pervert!” she said, but there was no heat in her voice.

“I’m glad he loves you so much,” said Mom. “Spend some time with him while you’re home.”

“Okaaay,” she said. She tried to ruffle my hair, which is kind of tough when that hair is short and on a black head. “We’ll go do something together.”

What we did, together, was primarily in her bed.

It was obvious she had missed me. Our lovemaking was just as passionate as ever. But she had changed. They were little changes. She was a bit more assertive, and had an air about her of confidence. She had “been on her own” for three whole months, but she’d grown up a bit in that short time.

“I’ll make it until you come join me,” she said. “I bought a vibrator like Jill’s and I call it Bobby.”

Just the dream that I might be able to join her helped me, and when she left I hugged her and said, “I love you. Be careful.”

“I love you, too,” she said. “You should think about going to State. It’s an amazing place, where you can learn tons and tons.”

And that is how the idea of sending me to State, so I could be near to my sister, was floated to our parents.

Tasha also spent one afternoon “catching up with friends,” which meant she and Jill got to spend some time together. I never heard what happened that afternoon but if I’d been there I’d have wanted to get my dick in her/them so it seems reasonable to assume they were munching muffins. I wondered if Jill tasted different, now that she had a baby in her womb. What I did know was that Jill didn’t tell Tasha and, obviously, Tasha couldn’t tell her brother’s baby was inside Jill.

Christmas was the same way. I know Jill still didn’t want Tasha to know about the baby because she was visiting her uncle the whole time Tasha was there. Jill was, at that time, four months pregnant and her baby bump could not be missed, especially if she was naked.

Since Jill didn’t tell her, I didn’t tell Tasha about the baby, either. I knew she’d be furious when she found out, but I wanted that to happen later, rather than now.

I had another two months with Jill before a U-Haul truck parked in front of her house with one of those dolly things behind it. I told my folks I was going to go carry things for her and Mom said to stay as long as I was needed. Her bed was the last thing we loaded, and I got to make love to her one, last time before we loaded that, too. She had to ride me because our baby had misshapen her too much for me to lie on top of her.

Then I helped her get the front wheels of her car on the dolly and get the straps tight.

She kissed me long and hard, inside the house and we clung to each other tightly. She said she loved me and I felt that deep in my bones. I knew our love was real, even if she was fifteen years older than I was.

We came out and I watched her get in the truck and drive away.

When I got back home mom saw right away that I was unhappy.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “Are you sad that woman is leaving?”

I had to think fast.

“She hired me for lots of jobs. My savings account will suffer now that she’s gone.”

“You need to concentrate on school, anyway,” she said.

I went to my room and lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I had three months of school left, and then the summer. After that I’d go to college and study some more. And I was pretty sure I was going to be miserable for all of it.

I thought about the piece of me that was in that U-Haul truck, somewhere, driving along a highway. Was she listening to the radio? Was she thinking about me? Was she thinking about Tasha? She was probably thinking about Danny and Jerome, or just what town was up ahead.

The piece of me that moved wasn’t in the truck, though. It was in Jill Pastrianni’s womb.

Over the next three days it took everything I had in me not to break down and bawl in front of my parents.

The only upside of it was that I now believed one or more of those women really could have loved Hugh Hefner. Love knows no age.


If you Google “depression” you are presented with a hail of information about symptoms, kinds of depression, and treatments. The definition is that you have some or all of the symptoms for two weeks or more. In my case, it was caused by the loss of two loved ones. They weren’t dead, of course, but I couldn’t see them and hold them.

My symptoms were not egregious, but I had a loss of appetite, and couldn’t concentrate in school and had a hard time sleeping. My mother noticed and asked me if I was using drugs. Bless her heart.

“No. I just miss Tasha,” I said.

So I got a hug and some pats on the back, and I got more of them in the days and weeks that followed. That actually helped and I toughened up a bit. I do not mean to imply that people with clinical depression are just wimps who need to buck the fuck up. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Depression is a serious affliction and treatment is critical to improving the situation. In my case, though, the therapy I needed was given to me by my mother, who also missed Tasha, and who was already suffering from the beginnings of empty nest syndrome.


Jill didn’t just disappear off the face of the Earth. She called me, usually around lunchtime, while Mom was at work. If she was horny and lonely she’d call me late at night and we’d masturbate, together. Or at least at the same time. She had moved to Nevada; the town not the state. Why somebody named a town Nevada, I don’t know. The doctor she went to for prenatal care happened to need a receptionist, so she offered to do that until she went into labor. That’s why she called me around noon, when she was on her lunch break. I felt better about her, knowing there was a doctor ten feet away.

It was difficult to have these phone calls, in some ways. We didn’t have hours to talk, which is what a lot of separated lovers do. It was almost like discussing the weather, and how the car was running. The emotional connection was there, but it felt tenuous. That was offset by things like discussing possible names for the baby. If we facetimed I got to see her belly. The only way I could see all of her was if she was in front of a mirror and she just looked wrong. At the same time it was constantly amazing that a tiny, living thing was growing inside her, and that part of the reason for that was me. The concept of being a father escaped me and it’s a good thing I wasn’t in her life trying to play that role. I think she might have known how inept I’d be and was content that I was, for the present, her sperm donor.

Tasha, on the other hand, called me and said things like, “I miss this so much. You have to come to State next year. I’ll go crazy if you don’t.” She couldn’t come home during spring break because she had gotten a job as a supervisor, or manager or something at the Taco Hut just off of campus. She said she was trying to be responsible and support herself, at least partially. Mom said that was admirable, but she should come home whenever she got the chance, too. Apparently, half of the Taco Hut staff were college kids who went on spring break and the rest were high school kids. The owner paid Tasha double time to run the place almost by herself for two weeks.

Then it was summer and Tasha came home.

On the first night she was home, she came into my room at midnight. She had on those unicorn and rainbow pajamas.

“I’m pissed at you,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because you didn’t tell me Jill was pregnant, or that she had moved.”

“I didn’t figure any of that would be good for you to hear in your current circumstances,” I said. “There was nothing you could have done.”

“I want you to promise me you’ll never keep something important like that from me again,” she said.

“Okay,” I said. She hadn’t raged at me. She had acted like the adult in the room. I felt very relieved.

Then she took off those pajamas and rocked my world before I spurted her full of Bobby juice. When I did that she panted at me.

“You bred Jill and now she’s going to have your baby. If I wasn’t on the pill you might have just bred me, too. When will I get to have your baby, Bobby?”

“If I ever can make a baby in you, then I will,” I said. “Can you live with that?”

“I pretty much have to,” she said.

We kissed a bunch and relaxed.

I asked her about the men she had met and she said some of them were attractive and interesting. But getting a boyfriend, or even dating, ate up blocks of time that could be used for studying, or working, or sleeping. Basically, it wasn’t worth the hassle because she had a boyfriend back home, who she would get to see at least every few months, and be with all summer.

This was the summer before my own entry into the college world. I had applied for and been accepted as a student at State. Mom and Dad encouraged me to do that and I agreed, as long as it was kept secret from Tasha. I wanted to surprise her. And yes, I know I had promised never to keep something important secret from her. But Mom wanted to surprise her ... so I had to play along, right?

Of course, after she dressed me down about keeping secrets from her and made me promise not to do it again, the first thing she asked me when we were resting after our orgasms was, “What’s the deal with college? Why haven’t you applied for State?”

“I did apply there,” I said, making my voice petulant. “I applied at four other places. I’m just waiting until I find out if anybody wants me.”

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” she complained. “You should know by now.”

“I may end up taking a gap year and working,” I said.

“No, no, no, no, no!” she wailed. “You have to come be with me! I’ll just wither away and die if you don’t!”

“That’s a little dramatic,” I said. I squeezed her left breast, and then her left butt cheek. “You feel pretty substantial to me.”

“Are you calling me fat?!” She tried to roll away from me and get up. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

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