Archive-name: SpecMome/preggirl.txt
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: Pregnant Girl, The

 
     Even with her breasts pulled heavily down, her cleavage
aroused me.  Her dress was too short, her sauntering walk in the
August heat too inviting for a mother.  When we were finally
alone, I told her I'd never seen a pregnant lady naked.  'I would
feel so much better that way...it's so hot...', she responded; so
we both worked to peel off the awkward clothes.  Her breasts, no
longer restrained, hung full, almost touching the swollen belly. 
Her nipples were dark and very large, and grew instantly erect
when the cool air touched her perspiration.  I touched one of
them.  'They're so sensitive..', she invited, and I tasted it
gently.  We fell on the couch.  When I touched her thigh, she
lifted her leg.  Her pussy was dripping. 

     She had an almost perverse fascination for her sex parts. 
She told me how she likes to watch herself masturbating in a
large mirror, and how it arouses her to watch the contractions of
her vagina and anus when she cums. That, she explained, was how
she had gotten pregnant: alone one day, she had decided to spend
it with herself and her clitoris. 

     She had relaxed all day, and then unplugged her phone and
taken a very hot leisurely bath.  The steaming water made her
feel she was in a different world, floating warm and safe, far
from reality.  She titillated herself with delicate strokes of
her fingertips across her nipples and her belly as she shaved her
underarms, her legs, and all of her pubic hair.  She liked to see
herself as naked as she could, and so regularly shaved herself as
completely as possible, even becoming quite expert at the area
around her anus, which she could manage only by touch.  When the
water began to cool she had toweled off, slowly massaged body oil
into as much of herself as she could reach, coated her vaginal
and anal area liberally with heavy oil, wiped her hands and spent
some time brushing out her hair. 

     She lay back on a stack of pillows on her bed, facing a
large mirror, with a large drink.  She had a lamp that cast a
spotlight on the area between her legs, warming it as well.  The
bath and the oil made her skin feel very soft and sensitive, and
the steady drone of the air conditioner blotted out all noise. 
Usually when she masturbated she would fantasize, but now she
felt comfortable with herself, and wanted to feel her own fingers
stroking the silky smooth outer lips of her vagina slowly up and
down, pressing a bit on each trip as they passed over her
clitoris. 

     Presently in the mirror she saw the lips begin to pout and
then to part slightly.  Her loins began to tingle and she could
feel herself lubricating.  She propped her head with the pillows
so she could relax completely while watching the source of the
pleasure she was feeling.  She paused to squeeze one of her
nipples very hard, and noticed the subtle movement of her vagina
that accompanied the throb she felt.  She did it again, and a
droplet of her moisture began to trail down toward the pink of
her naked anus.  She pulled the lips apart with both hands,
causing her erect clit to stand out, throbbing visibly as she
tugged.  She began to stroke and squeeze the area just above her
clitoris very gently, rewarded with one throb for each stroke. 
She watched her inner lips begin to swell and pout.  The trail of
moisture had reached the entrance to her anus; she took pride in
the quantity of liquid she was generating. 

     Now, with a dollop of Vaseline on her middle finger she
began to rub back and forth across the upper part of her clit,
pressing more firmly as she became more aroused.  She lay her
head back, luxuriating in the comfort as the tingle grew in her
loins, welling stronger, until her vagina had begun to blossom
open in the crescendo before orgasm.  It spasmed hard in one of
those cums that left her still tingling, letting herself down
still rubbing slowly, holding one of her soft breasts in her
other hand.  The need was still there, and soon she had her
vibrator pressing next to her clit, bringing her toward another
climax, and then another. 

     She worked on herself until she felt drugged, lethargic
after hours of masturbating and many orgasms.  When one of the
local boys had walked in unannounced, she hadn't even tried to
stop him. 
 
-
 
     Now, she felt at peace, languid on warm summer days, and the
small movements within would comfort her.  Sometimes on a weekend
she spent all day in gentle orgasms.  In the morning, we would
eat without ever getting dressed, her swelling belly almost
resting on her thighs.  She ate slowly, tasting every mouthful;
then we would lay together, touching, kissing, teasing our bodies
and slowly making love. 

     Once she started, it took only warm words and gentle
pressure on her clitoris to produce several throbs.  She lay on
the couch listening to the stereo while I worked, stroking
herself to the slow music.  Sometimes I just sat and watched her
lovely nude vagina and anus, squeezing every so often to her
touches.  I'd come by, lean over and kiss her to a few throbs,
and she would take my penis in her mouth to run her tongue around
the head until it began to swell.  She just lay in her juices; it
would crust her buns, and when I came, my semen stayed where it
landed in a trickle down her chin and neck as she swallowed. 

     In the evening I brought dinner to her.  Eating reminded us
of the delicious things we'd tasted, and after eating she
continued her mild orgasms.  They were heavy, lazy, and her
nipples barely showed the erection of her earlier orgasms.  After
dark, I finished the chores while I watched her slowly press a
dildo at her pussy until it was swallowed completely.  I could
see her contract on it as she eased it in, and my penis was again
aroused.  I stood over her to have it sucked full hard while she
pushed the dildo with her heel, her hips slowly heaving. 

     The climax of our climaxes was a long, slow lovemaking. 
We'd get comfortable and I'd slide into the wet and tired pussy
in place of the rubber surrogate.  As we rocked together, she
would squeeze one of her nipples and one of mine, and I would do
the same.  Our identity had so merged that the distinction had
blurred between making love and masturbating. 

     We were lying on our sides, so she was able to take the
lower breast in both hands.  She squeezed the puffed aureole with
her thumbs and a squirt of milk ran over her hand. As she shifted
more to her back to lick it from her hand I leaned forward to
suck the swollen nipple.  A small quantity of milk flowed, and it
made her hotter.  "The other", she whispered, and I repeated what
had been done, tasting her warm, somehow familiar milk.  Now she
began to milk the breast in earnest, pulling with both hands. 
Hot streams of milk washed my chest, and I could feel her pussy
contract on me as her hands urged milk from the nipple.  Timing
my thrusts to her tit-milking, we brought her to the brink, and
held her there for many seconds.   With wide eyes, she pressed
her clit to me, using me to stimulate herself when needed,
holding the cum just on the edge as her vagina slowly expanded in
the wind-up before orgasm.  When finally it contracted on my
penis my orgasm was triggered, sending hot streams of semen to
mix with her juices and leaving us with eyes closed, wallowing in
a mixture of our secretions, feeling one another's fading throbs
as she pressed her belly and breasts to me, holding me tightly in
her arms.

--