She always had a pregnancy risk fetish. Ever since first learning about reproduction and seeing those old scratchy films in Sex Ed class showing a crudely animated penis ejaculating into a crudely animated vagina she longed to feel that sensation for herself. It just seemed so erotic to her, the thought of feeling a man erupting inside her and possibly knocking her up.
For a long time, she used birth control and would “pretend” the risk was real. Of course there’s always a small chance one might “slip past the goalie” when using any form of contraception, but it wasn’t the same. She wanted to push it to the edge, to have sex when the risk was genuine.
So she stopped taking birth control. Swore it off for life. She was going to have the kind of sex she wanted, and if nature decided she was going to be a mother that day, then so be it.
The sex was never better. The thrill, the excitement, the adrenaline rush of knowing that every time she begged and pleaded for whoever she was fucking that day to blow his load in her, she might get knocked up could not be compared. She only fucked men who wouldn’t chicken out, who would happily bury their cocks balls deep in her and let the floodgates open. She wasn’t looking to “trap” anyone into fatherhood of child support payments, she simply wanted to enjoy sex the way nature intended.
Now, every time she would feel a man’s cock stiffen in that moment right before orgasm, it would trigger her own explosive series of orgasms. Once she felt that first hot spurt of cum blasting into the furthest depths of her pussy, it would either trigger another orgasm or ride the crest of the previous one and keep it going. When the risk was real, sex was never better.