Ch. Sorry Hayden, I’m Seven Months Pregnant with Another Man’s Baby 69 Sorry Hayden, I’m Seven Months Pregnant with Another Man’s Baby 69

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I tried to pull away, but he held me firmly, his hands pressing against my chest as he pulled my body flush 

against his 

I was trapped, unable to move. 

That unfamiliar sensation shattered my last shred of will. 

My body, parched for so long, was finally quenched as if by spring rain. 

I was utterly consumed by the pleasure, lost to it even if I’d wanted to turn back. 

I wanted to escape, but my strength was gone. 

He nipped at my earlobe, his voice a hot whisper against my skin. 

“You’re the one who pressed back against me. Don’t go blaming me now.” 

A mix of anger and fluster burned inside me, a fire with no outlet. 

It wasn’t as if the guy in front had bumped into me on purpose. Who could I even confront? 

Besides, how could I possibly put any of this into words? 

Pleasure washed over my reason like a rising tide, drowning it. 

My sight, my hearing, even my sense of smell-all seemed to short out. 

I forgot completely that I was still at a concert. 

In their place was an endless wave of sensation, filling every corner of my mind. 

I stopped struggling and gave myself over entirely to his touch. 

It was strange. Just moments ago, my body had clearly been craving it, yet I was terrified of things going that 

far. 

But once it truly happened, the fear disappeared, replaced by an even deeper comfort. 

The truth is, desire runs in a woman’s blood. We ache for it even more than men do. 

It’s only the constraints of society that hold us back, making us too afraid to let it show 

If a man is bold enough, a woman will often yield. 

He kept at it for what felt like an hour, right up until the concert was nearing its end. 

It was my first time ever experiencing something like this, and I fell into it completely. 

When he was finished, he pulled up his pants, his expression turning serious. 

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I on the other hand, felt as if I’d opened Pandora’s box-there was no closing it now 

My body had been satisfied, yet my mind wanted more. 

I turned to look at him and said softly. “You’re done now? You’re just leaving me like this?” 

He chuckled and pinched my waist. 

“See? Now you know what you were missing, and you were playing hard to get earlier, clamping down like you didn’t want me in.” 

I looked down, my voice softening into something teasing. 

“I’m a girl. When something like that happens out of nowhere, of course I get shy.” 

He only smiled and said nothing. 

I didn’t even know him, and yet looking at him now felt strangely familiar, as if we’d shared something profoundly intimate. 

There’s a saying that felt true in that moment-the quickest way to a woman’s heart is through that very 

place. 

Once a man finds his way in, her heart opens up. 

The concert ended, and the crowd began to flow toward the exits. 

That was where he and I went our separate ways. 

Still, a vague feeling lingered in my chest. 

Even now, I didn’t know his name. 

Maybe I would never see him again. 

After the crowd dispersed, lights dimmed, and I walked alone along the way back. 

The echoes of the songs and my own racing heartbeat still rang in my ears. 

The warmth of his body still lingered on mine, like the fading heat of a brief, intense dream. 

My phone lit up with a message from a friend asking where I was. 

I pressed my lips together and didn’t reply. 

A secret satisfaction unfurled within me, tinged with a hint of melancholy. 

I knew it might be a moment that would never repeat, but that brief connection was enough to stay with me 

for a long time. 

When I returned to the dorm that night, my roommate Sophia saw the glow on my face and asked if 

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something good had happened. 

I told her everything, lingering on the intensity of it all, how good it felt. 

Sophia listened, her eyes wide with envy. 

She was like me-no boyfriend ever, and burning with curiosity about the things that happened between men 

and women. 

We often talked about men together, so I didn’t hide anything from her. 

When I finished, she scoffed, “You’re totally making this up. As if something like that would just happen to 

you.” 

I lifted my skirt slightly and showed her the marks left behind. 

“Look. There are still traces of him.” 

Her eyes widened. This time, she had to believe me. 

“No way. I should’ve gone with you! Come on, tell me, what’s it really like?” 

That question immediately sparked my interest. 

She climbed onto my bed, eyes bright with anticipation, waiting for me to describe every last sensation. 

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