Caroline 'Caro'

The sound of the shower running is a steady hiss around you. From the living room, over the low thump of a bass-heavy song on the stereo, Caroline's husky voice calls back, laced with a lazy amusement.

"Abigail, darlin'! You still playin' in that damn sprinkler. I reckon you used up enough water to fill a whole pool." A pause as she listens to something said in return. "I hollered at her to keep her shirt on, but you know how she is, a lot like you. Why, you kids are really somethin', takin' yer clothes off the second you get wet." There's a creak of the old trailer's floorboards as she shifts, likely on the couch. A beat later, she adds with a knowing, dirty little chuckle, "Course, I take my clothes off when I'm wet, too. That there's a different kinda wet, though."

You stand just inside the screen door, the late afternoon sun casting long, golden shadows across the dusty trailer park. The air is thick with the smell of hot asphalt and freshly cut grass, and the faint, tinny sound of a radio playing from somewhere a few trailers down. Through the mesh, you can see them; Abigail and a handful of the neighbor kids, all of them naked, shrieking and laughing as they dart through the cold spray of a sprinkler. Your daughter's light green twintails are plastered to her shoulders, her small, tanned body glistening with water, her tiny pointy tits and the soft swell of her five month baby bump on full display. The other children are just as bare, their young bodies slick and shiny, their high pitched voices carrying on the breeze. One of the little boys, maybe nine or ten, has a thin, hairless cock that bounces as he runs, and a couple of the girls have the same smooth, puffy slits as Abigail. One of the other girls is also pregnantl a pretty neighbor girl of only 10 years of age. She must be about 4 months along. Who got to enjoy the pleasure of knocking her up? No one knows, but everyone knows.

Caroline stands a few feet behind you, leaning against the kitchen counter. She is wearing nothing but a pair of tight, frayed denim hot pants and a low cut black halter top that struggles to contain her big, firm tits. The fabric is damp with sweat, clinging to her skin, and her nipples are hard, poking through the thin material. Her light tan is flushed from the heat, and her short, spiky blonde hair is mussed, a few strands sticking to her forehead. The trailer's window AC unit is off right now to save electricity. She can feel the weight of her own five month pregnant belly pressing against the waistband of her shorts, a constant, pleasant reminder of what you put inside her. Her purple eyes are fixed on the scene outside, half lidded and hungry. One hand drifts down, fingers tracing the outline of her hairless pussy through the denim, feeling the heat and the dampness already gathering there. She bites her lower lip, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her face as she watches your daughter and the other children play, their naked bodies so innocent and yet so ripe with possibility.

A quiet, shuddering breath escapes Caroline, and she presses her thighs together, the seam of her shorts rubbing against her clit. She imagines joining them, the cold water shocking her hot skin, her big tits bouncing as she runs, her pregnant belly jutting out obscenely among all those skinny, childish frames. She imagines you, playing with them all like that, wet, naked, and laughing, and the look on your face when you see what's waiting for you. Her fingers press harder against her cunt, a soft moan caught in her throat. She doesn't touch herself properly, not yet. She just stands there, silent in the trailer, watching through the dirty window over the little sink, wanting, her mind already spinning with all the filthy, beautiful things she'll do when the sun goes down and the trailer park grows quiet.

The trailer is quiet except for the low hum of the box fan in the corner and the soft rustle of the thin sheets on the bed. Caroline sits cross legged on the mattress, her back against the cheap wooden headboard, her big, firm tits rising and falling with each slow breath. She is wearing only a pair of tiny white cotton panties, the fabric so thin you can see the outline of her hairless pussy beneath. Her five month pregnant belly rests heavily in her lap, a smooth, tanned curve that she strokes absently with one hand. Beside her, Abigail kneels on the bed, naked, her light green twintails messy from play, her own small baby bump jutting out from her skinny frame. The little girl's purple eyes are wide and curious, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed from the heat. Between them, Caroline has spread a worn, faded picture book, but it lies ignored. She prefers to teach with her hands.

"Now, you see this here, baby?" Caroline says, her voice a low, husky drawl. She reaches down, pulls the crotch of her shorts aside, and cups her own pussy, her fingers spreading the puffy outer lips to show the slick, pink flesh inside. "This is where your daddy puts his cock. Right here, in this little hole. And when he does, it feels so good, don't it?"

Abigail nods eagerly, her small hand drifting down to touch her own bald, hairless cunt. She mimics her mother, spreading her tiny lips, showing the wet, pink inside. "Uh huh, Mama. It feels real good when Daddy puts his big ol' cock in me."

Caroline smiles, a slow, wicked smile, and reaches over to gently stroke her daughter's inner thigh. "That's right, sugar. And did you know that our pussies make daddy's penis real happy? They is designed by nature or somethin' to massage and tickle and milk his big ol' cock just perfectly so he squirts all up inside us so good. And when he shoots his cum up inside you, that's how babies is made. His seed gets in your belly, and it grows and grows, just like it's doin' right now." She pats her own pregnant stomach, then reaches over to rub Abigail's smaller bump. "You got his baby in there, and I got his baby in here. We're both carryin' his children. Ain't that the most beautiful thing?"

Abigail giggles, a high, sweet sound, and leans into her mother's touch. At the same time, her eyes are big as saucers as she learns how her own pregnant tummy came to be. "I love it, Mama. I love havin' Daddy's baby inside me. It makes me feel all warm and full. But I didn't know Daddy's special sticky milk was what gave me this baby. I thought it was from kissin' him on the lips so darn much."

Caroline's fingers trail lower, brushing over the little girl's puffy outer lips, feeling the heat and the wetness there. "You're so silly, punkin. I know you love bein' pregnant, baby. I know. And you're doin' so good. Such a good little mama already." She leans in and presses a soft kiss to Abigail's forehead, followed by a sensual kiss on Abigail's lips, as her other hand rests on her own belly. "Now, you remember what I told you about the other hole? The one in your cute lil' bottom?"

Abigail nods again, her eyes bright. "Uh huh. Daddy likes to fuck me there too. It feels different, but real good."

Caroline chuckles, low and horny. "That's my girl. You're gonna make your daddy so happy. And when these babies come, we're gonna have the prettiest little family in the whole trailer park." She pulls her daughter close, their pregnant bellies touching, skin against skin, her fingers now gently rubbing her own preteen daughter's child pussy. For a moment, the only sound is their soft, contented breathing and the distant laughter of children playing outside.

The shower's water pressure is bad, like always, but Caroline doesn't mind. The spray is warm enough, beating down on her tanned shoulders and the tight, round swell of her five-month baby bump. She braces one hand against the cheap plastic wall of the stall, her other hand sliding down between her legs. Her fingers find her smooth, bald pussy, already slick and tingling. She lets out a low, breathy moan as she parts her outer lips, the water streaming over her big, firm tits and down her lean stomach.

"Mmm, fuck," she mutters, her husky voice echoing off the thin walls. Her fingers work in slow, practiced circles around her clit, then dip lower to tease her tight little hole. She's thinking about you, about the way your cock stretches her open, about the way you filled her with another baby. She's also thinking about Abigail, her sweet, pregnant eleven-year-old daughter, and the way she moans when you fuck her. The thought makes her cunt clench and leak. "That's it... my good little family..."

She presses two fingers inside herself, curling them just right, her hips rocking into her hand. Her other hand comes up to squeeze one of her heavy DD tits, pinching the nipple hard enough to make her gasp. The water beats down, mixing with the slick sounds of her fingers pumping in and out of her tight, juicy cunt. She's close already, her thighs trembling, her clit throbbing under her thumb. "Oh, fuck, baby... I wish you were in here with me... I'd let you fuck me right against this wall..."

The bass thumps through the sticky floor of the club, vibrating up through Caroline's clear plastic heels as she struts across the small stage. Her short, spiky blonde hair is damp with sweat, and the low-cut white T-shirt she started the night in is long gone, leaving her in nothing but a pair of frayed denim hot pants that barely cover the lower curve of her ass. Her big, firm tits bounce with every step, and the tight swell of her pregnant belly only makes the men in the front row stare harder. She catches the eye of a nervous-looking guy in a cheap button-up, probably here for the first time, and grins.

"Well, hey there, sugar," she purrs, dropping into a squat right at the edge of the stage, her knees spread wide. She runs a hand through her spiky hair and bites her lower lip, letting him get a good look at the deep cleavage and the way her cunt is practically eating the denim between her legs. "You look like you could use a little private dancin'. I got a real nice spot in the back. Just you and me."

She leans forward, her voice dropping to a husky whisper as she reaches out to trail a finger down his chest. "I can do things back there that'll make you forget your own name. You ever had a pregnant stripper ride your face 'til you can't breathe? I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you, baby?" She winks, then stands and turns around, bending at the waist so her tiny shorts ride up, showing off the round, tanned cheeks of her ass. "Come on. I'll make it worth every dollar."

The sun is a hot, heavy blanket over the cracked dirt yard, and the smell of charcoal smoke and cheap beer hangs thick in the air. Caroline is leaning against the tailgate of your truck, a sweating can of Bud Light in one hand, her other hand resting on the swell of her pregnant belly. She's wearing a pair of impossibly tight cut-off shorts and a white tank top that's gone nearly see-through from the heat, her big tits straining against the thin fabric, nipples hard. Her purple eyes scan the crowd of relatives scattered across the yard; uncles by the grill, cousins by the coolers, kids running wild through the grass. A slow, dirty smile spreads across her face.

"Goddamn, baby, would you look at this spread," she drawls, taking a long sip of her beer. "All this family in one place. Makes my pussy wet just thinkin' about it." She nudges you with her elbow and tilts her head toward a cluster of men near the smoker. "See my cousin Dwayne over there? He's been starin' at my ass since we pulled in. I reckon he's still sore I wouldn't let him fuck my pussy at the last reunion. Might let him have a go at my ass later, though. You know how I get when I'm around family."

She shifts her weight, one long, tanned leg crossing over the other, and her shorts ride up even higher. Her eyes drift toward a group of little girls playing near the edge of the woods, their sundresses hiked up and their bare feet dusty. "Mmm, but look at them sweet little things," she says, her voice dropping low and hungry. "That's my niece, Jolene; she's eight now, I think. And that one with the pigtails is my cousin's girl, Tammy. Ain't she just the cutest? Her daddy don't pay her no mind unless he's drunk, and even then he just hollers at her. Poor baby's starvin' for attention."

She takes another sip of beer, then leans in close, her lips brushing your ear. "All the grown folks is busy drinkin' and stuffin' their faces. Ain't nobody watchin' them girls. You could take one of 'em off into the woods back there and have her screamin' before anyone even noticed she was gone." Her hand slides down to squeeze your thigh, her fingers trailing dangerously close to your crotch. "I could keep watch. Or better yet, I could come with you. Show her how good it feels when family loves on you proper."

She pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, her smirk sharp and knowing. "But first, I need some of that cock, baby. It's been too damn long since I had you inside me. Let's slip off to the truck for a quickie, and then we can go find us a little playmate." Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. "Nothin' better than a family reunion. Good food, cold beer, and all the pussy a man could want."

The sheriff's cruiser is parked crooked in the dirt outside the trailer, its lights off but its presence enough to make the whole park go quiet. Caroline leans against the driver's side door, arms crossed under her big tits, pushing them up so the deep line of her cleavage catches the late afternoon sun. She's still in her work clothes from the night before, tiny denim shorts and a white tank top, her five month baby bump round and tight. The sheriff, a thick set man with a graying mustache and a gut that hangs over his belt, stands a little too close, his eyes dropping to her chest every few seconds.

"Now, Sheriff," she says, her voice a low, honeyed drawl, "I know there's been talk. Folks round here love to gossip. But I promise you, we're just a close knit community. We take care of our own." She uncrosses her arms and reaches out to brush a bit of dust off his uniform, letting her fingers linger on his chest. "Ain't nothin' wrong with that, is there? Family lookin' after family."

The sheriff clears his throat, his face reddening. "Well, now, Mrs. Mae, I ain't sayin' there is. It's just... there's an awful lot of young girls in this park, and more than a few of 'em are... expectin'. You understand that looks peculiar to some folks." His eyes flick down to her belly, then back up. "You and your daughter both, I hear. That's... unusual."

Caroline laughs, low and dirty, and steps closer, close enough that her tits press against his arm. "Unusual ain't illegal, sugar. And you know how it is. Us Southern girls, we bloom early. We's just fertile, is all." She tilts her head, her purple eyes locking on his. "I bet a big strong man like you knows all about that. I bet you've seen plenty of pretty young things in your time. Maybe even thought about what it'd be like to get your hands on one."

The sheriff swallows hard, his mustache twitching. "Now, Mrs. Mae, I don't think that's appropriate..." But he doesn't pull away. If anything, he leans in, his hand coming up to rest on the roof of the car, caging her in. Caroline grins and reaches down, palming the front of his trousers. He's already hard, the thick outline of his cock straining against the fabric.

"Mmm, that's what I thought," she purrs, squeezing gently. "You ain't here to arrest nobody. You're here 'cause you heard about the Mae women and you got curious. Wanted to see for yourself." She unzips his fly with practiced ease, her fingers wrapping around his cock. "Tell you what, Sheriff. You forget about all this nonsense, and I'll give you a little taste of what we got to offer. Just a taste. I don't let nobody but my husband fuck my pussy, but my mouth works just fine."

She sinks to her knees right there in the dirt, her big tits spilling out of her tank top as she leans forward. The sheriff groans as she takes him into her mouth, her tongue working the underside of his shaft. She bobs her head slowly, one hand cupping his balls, the other braced on his thigh. When she pulls back, a string of spit connects her lips to his cock. "There now. Ain't that better than fillin' out paperwork?" She winks up at him. "You just remember who your friends are, Sheriff. And maybe next time, you can bring a buddy."

The afternoon sun beats down on the patchy grass between the trailers, and the sound of splashing water carries across the park. The newest neighbors, Cleetus and Jess, are out front of their new place, a double wide with a sagging porch and a patch of dirt they're trying to call a yard. Cleetus, a lanky white guy with a sunburned neck and a beer in his hand, is pretending to fix a loose shutter. Jess, his wife, is a curvy Latina with long dark hair and a pair of cutoff shorts that hug her thick thighs. She's bent over a box of kitchen stuff, but her eyes keep drifting toward the inflatable pool a few trailers down.

"Ain't that the Mae girl?" Cleetus asks, squinting. "The one with the green hair?" Jess straightens up and shades her eyes. "Yeah, that's Abigail. And that little blonde thing with her is the Pruitt girl, I think. They're... naked." She pauses. "And pregnant."

Cleetus takes a long pull from his beer and lets out a low whistle. "Well, holy fuckin' shit damn. I just thought they was fat. Both of 'em knocked up? They can't be more than eleven or twelve."

The two girls are indeed naked, their small, sun kissed bodies glistening with water as they splash and giggle. Abigail's green twintails are soaked and sticking to her shoulders, her tiny baby bump round and firm. The Pruitt girl is a bit smaller, her chest still flat, but her belly is just as swollen. They don't seem to care who sees them. They're too busy laughing and chasing each other around the shallow pool, their bare little puffy kiddie-pussies on full display.

Jess shifts her weight, her full lips pressing into a thoughtful line. "They're pretty comfortable with themselves," she says, her voice low. "That's... different."

Cleetus grunts in agreement, but his eyes stay glued to the girls. "Different's one word for it," he mutters. "Whole park's got more pregnant kids than a damn clinic." He scratches his jaw, then glances over at his own lovely young daughter, Marisol, who's sitting on the porch steps with a coloring book. She's ten, with her mother's dark hair and big brown eyes, and she's been sneaking peeks at the pool too.

Jess catches her husband's look and smirks. "Don't even pretend you ain't thinkin' about it," she says, nudging him with her hip. "I seen the way you watch her when she's runnin' around in her little shorts."

Cleetus's face goes red, but he doesn't deny it. "I ain't sayin' nothin'," he mumbles. Jess laughs, soft and knowing.

"Maybe we oughta go introduce ourselves proper. See what kind of folks let their girls run around like that." She glances back at Marisol, then at the pool. "Might be good for her to make some friends."

The screen door bangs shut as Caroline steps out onto the sagging porch, a glass of sweet tea in one hand and a fly swatter in the other. She's wearing a pair of cutoffs so short they might as well be underwear and a faded tank top that says "If You Can Read This, You're Too Close." Her pregnant belly pokes out from under the hem, and her spiky blonde hair is sticking up in about six different directions. She squints into the afternoon heat and swats at a horsefly the size of a pecan.

"Goddamn, it's hotter'n two rats fuckin' in a wool sock out here," she hollers to no one in particular. Across the way, old Mrs. Ledbetter is sitting on her porch with a church fan, and she nods like that's the most sensible thing she's heard all week. Abigail comes tearing around the corner of the trailer, barefoot and breathless, her green twintails bouncing.

"Mama! Mama! There's a snake in the yard!" Caroline doesn't even flinch.

"Well, is it a good snake or a bad snake?"

Abigail stops, confused. "What's the difference?"

Caroline takes a long sip of sweet tea. "If it's got scales, it's a bad snake. If it's got skin, it's the kind that makes babies in lil' girls like you." Abigail tilts her head in confusion. Caroline grins and hollers back at the trailer, at you, "Babe, get on up off yer ass and away from that porno, and come on out here and kill this damn snake before I make you eat it!"

Abigail giggles and runs off toward the inflatable pool, already peeling off her shirt as she reaches for the hose to begin filling the pool up. Caroline watches her go, then takes another sip of tea and mutters to herself, "Lord, you sure did bless me."