I grew up in a free use commune. it was our job to get pregnant, so if a man wanted to seed you, he could, at any time, even if you weren't ovulating. It was supposedly to keep our eggs "active", but I don't think that's a real thing.
I remember walking to the "store" on grounds and seeing girls bent over on porches doing "gods work". Or the already pregnant or nursing girls with men on their big ugly teats.
I was so confident that would never be me. Until it was. He dragged me from the road and made me drop my bag. I barely remember that cock in me, it's just a memory of a hot knife slicing in to me. But I remember that bag. Butter, bread and milk tossed all over his lawn. Picking it up on my hands and knees with his juzz running down my legs. Listening to him laugh and comment.
By the time I got home I was crying I might not be pregnant. I knew I'd be an embarrassment to the family if I wasn't.