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I’m back to whatever fantasies happen to spring to my unconscious mind, for the time being. So, no particular unifying theme in my lucid dreaming for the time being.
I don’t believe any of my dreams thus far have really explored the phenomenon of hormonal pregnant mood swings, though it’s certainly one of the dozens of aspects of pregnancy that do it for me sexually. It was indeed the focus of my experience last night. The massively pregnant wife and I were in the kitchen, and she was all over the damn place, emotionally speaking.
First, she sat on the floor, back against the cupboards, weeping and cradling her bump in both arms. “I’m not ready for this, Stephen,” she moaned. “I can’t give birth! I can’t be a mother!” She cried into her hands for a minute or two, then apparently underwent a mood swing as she lifted her head with a smile on her face.
“You’re going to be the best father ever. I can’t wait to see you with the baby, Stephen. It’s going to be beautiful.” I took her hands in mine as she reached out to me, helping her to her feet and right into a tight hug. Her bump pressed firmly into my midsection. “I love you so, so much,” she said quietly into my left ear. Shifting without removing herself from my arms, she faced away from me and positioned both my arms around her belly…and my hard dick pointing straight into her lower back.
“Ohhhhhh, I see,” she said in a sultry voice, apparently shifting into horny mode. She pulled her maternity dress up and over her head in seconds, no articles of clothing present underneath. “Let’s just see what we can do with what you’re working with back there…” She’s got my cock in her mouth in seconds, moving her mouth up and down my shaft rapidly and with gusto. Soon, she’s aiming me down toward her bump and vigorously finishing me off with her hand. I came right onto her belly, just as we both liked it. She rubbed it in slowly and silently, never breaking the intense eye contact she’d initiated with me.
Suddenly, there was a great deal of anger in the eyes staring into mine. “This is how you treat ME, the woman carrying your child? Fucking disgraceful. Getting your disgusting cum all over me. You should be ashamed of yourself, Stephen.” She stood up, slipping her dress back on, the midsection clinging to her cum-sticky belly in a way that’s still got me hot and bothered. She stormed out of the room, but didn’t stop yelling at me. “Never again, Stephen! I know you love me pregnant, and it’s fucking gross! You’ll never even see me naked again, never mind knocking me up! Fuck you!”
Well, I did fuck her just a few minutes prior, and no amount of mood swings could undo that. She’d level out eventually, luckily, as, hot as this may have been in a short burst, I certainly wouldn’t wish it on her forever. Fun for now, not forever. Just like her brief sexy moods!
The Femme Fatale
The bar was all in black and white, hardly surprising once I figured out the genre. All the men wore dashing hats and well-fitted suits, cigarette smoke completely filled the air, all the visible light in the place seemed filtered through Venetian blinds: a dream of film noir, apparently.
I spotted her from across the room, the prettiest girl in the place. And the only conspicuously pregnant girl to boot. Wavy shoulder-length blonde hair, sleeveless sequined silver midi dress, and a protruding belly that truly made her stand out in a crowd. A sight to behold, and one I could see beholding me right back as our eyes met through the smoky air. Eye contact acted as my in and I approached with attempted confidence.
“Took you long enough,” she quipped the moment I took the empty chair next to hers. “Why’s a guy like you making time for a girl like me?” she asked, rubbing her sizable bump over her dress. “I could see you glowing even through the smoke,” I tried my best to play along. She smiled at me, placed one of her hands over mine. “I’ve got a room upstairs, darling. You know a girl doesn’t get into this condition all by her lonesome…”
We went up to her studio apartment above the bar. “Excuse me for just a moment while I powder my nose.” She ducked into the bathroom, reemerging 30 seconds later sans clothing. She was 34 weeks along but barely looked a day over 40. Boy, nudity sure looks fantastic in high bahis firmaları contrast greyscale.
Her darkened areolas and nipples positively popped against her pale skin, clearly milk-swollen breasts still somehow remaining remarkably perky. Her pronounced linea nigra stood out like a bolt of lightning against her flawless teardrop bump. Her legs, arms, and various other parts were clearly pregnancy-plumped but absolutely perfect in their tasteful, well-proportioned engorgement. When she turned around, her ass just about brought me to climax.
It was Hollywood’s-Golden-Age beauty, but featuring the nudity one could only usually fantasize about during that period. What a spectacle. “See anything you like?” She finally interrupted my slack-jawed reverie after I’d been staring silently for a solid two minutes. I went to her wordlessly, kissing her deeply with both hands on her tight bump.
Things proceeded tastefully, as they might in a high class, non-pornographic motion picture. I definitely slept with her, and it was fantastic. I couldn’t exactly see the whole thing, though, like my personal experience was somehow toned down in real time. It honestly didn’t tarnish the encounter a bit: it was one of the best I’ve had.
The end credits rolled as I came in my boxers. Why don’t people like black and white films these days?
Snow fell heavily, already accumulated six or seven inches high off the ground. A heavily-bundled woman was trying to shovel her car out from her parking spot and very obviously struggling to do so, taking breaks after every two or three shovelfuls of snow. I moved in with an offer to help, which she accepted gratefully and immediately. The job was finished within five or ten minutes, then she invited me in to her house for hot coffee. She’d worked up quite a sweat in her shoveling attempt, now needing to shower and change before she could head to work. Ample opportunity to repay my kindness with a warming beverage.
Inside, she took off her huge winter coat, and even within the loose sweatshirt underneath, I was struck instantly by the fact that she was quite far along in her now-revealed pregnancy. An exciting development! She didn’t leave the room to continue her undressing, next pulling off her sweatshirt in front of me. I stood staring as she wordlessly took off layer after layer. After kicking off her boots, the cashmere sweater and khaki pants were thrown to the floor next.
Now just a tank top and modest maternity shorts remained. Underbelly was visible and delightful, as was her chest’s bountiful cleavage. Those articles were removed, then her bra; she was completely nude, right there in front of me and with nothing to say, it turned out. Everything about her massive pregnant nudity was truly excellent, especially the way her breasts hung just heavy enough with milk to rest gently on top of her protruding belly.
I woke up before I figured out what I might say to lead the dream in an even more enjoyable direction. It’s hard to know how or when to jump in when someone so freely and thoroughly disrobes in front of you. Maybe a good type of thing to think of some responses to, should such a dream occur again…
It was the sort of summer festival populated largely by hippies and the like, plenty of whom strutted around in various states of undress. My booth advertised “Body Painting,” and I was thrilled to have the opportunity to paint flowers centered around so many bared nipples. When my holy grail showed up at the booth, though, it was almost too much for me to take in, dampening the thrill for the moment.
She was fully nude, which wasn’t unheard of but wasn’t super common, either. Great, hefty bosoms with bright red nipples; unruly red pubic hair; and one hell of a baby bump in between. It looked as though someone had affixed a perfect globe to her midsection, somehow attaching it using skin stretched so tautly as to appear shiny in the bright sun. I couldn’t take my eyes off it, nor could I stop the blood rushing to my penis, as she asked if I’d be willing to paint Earth on her belly. I finally snapped out of my hypnotized state and agreed, of course.
My hand trembled as I began, my pregnancy fetish giving my painter’s training a run for its money. I steadied myself and my swollen canvas kaçak iddaa by placing a hand gently but firmly on the tight right side of her belly as I began to paint the left side. Her belly’s tautness was palpable even through my brush; my erection grew ever larger, luckily contained by my tight jeans.
I finished painting the more central parts of the bump, having avoided the tits- and crotch-adjacent parts quite carefully. Finally without a choice, I started painting up near where her breasts rested on her belly. She giggled at my awkward attempts to maneuver around her bosom, taking each breast in a hand and lifting them out of my way. Good lord did I need to jerk off.
I had to kneel to get to most of the southern hemisphere of her globe of a belly, her unkempt pubic hair right in my face. She didn’t seem embarrassed by the situation, or at least took no action to alleviate my awkwardness. I, on the other hand, felt my entire face get redder and redder. It wasn’t one of my better body paintings, in the end.
I finally finished painting, woke up and (fucking finally) finished myself off.
My wife was laying down on the couch and I was behind her in our recliner. It was almost an old school patient/psychiatrist arrangement, especially as she was just starting a lengthy monologue about herself and her problems, to which I verbally responded infrequently.
“I know I’ve only got four weeks left until the baby gets here, but this is just hell, Stephen. It’s hell. I can barely lift this belly up at all, never mind hauling it around all day in public. And the stares! I thought they were bad when I just started getting big, but now I have to deal with milk leaking through pretty much any article of clothing I can slap onto my boobs. And I don’t know if you knew this, honey, but men really like looking at wet tops that show off your hard nipples. Oh, and my nipples are painfully sensitive and my boobs are getting more and more sore. Did you know that, Stephen?”
She couldn’t see me, and had no real interest in my reactions, anyway. A scattered few “Uh-huh”s and “I know”s were more than enough for me to get by. She was venting, not trying to start a conversation.
To my benefit, I found the more cumbersome, late-stage pregnancy symptoms especially sexy. Unseen by my wife, I reached into my pants to grab my dick and began to stroke it slowly and quietly as she continued speaking.
“My ankles fucking kill. You’ll rub them for me later, right honey? I know you’re good about this stuff; none of these complaints are about you…I’m just fucking fed up, you know? I know my hips are getting wider and the baby’s getting lower to help with the birth, but that whole area is so, so sore. And absolutely no Percocet when you’re pregnant, of course. Goddamn it all. Moods are all over the place. Turned on, then repulsed the second I get my pants off. Crying in fear and crying in happiness within about five minutes of each other. Whether I piss a little in my panties or manage to get to the toilet, I’ve still got to urinate every 15 minutes or so. Stupid organ-kicking baby.”
I had my extremely hard dick out by now, pretty sure she was too preoccupied with her own issues to notice. Her monologue continued to turn me on, so I kept stroking and stroking.
“And the baby’s so fucking big, and about to come out my fucking vagina! Tell me how the hell I’m supposed to pull that one off, Stephen. ‘Tearing’ is about the scariest word in the world to me at the moment. The baby’s so huge, though, obviously from the look of me. I get stares from a quarter mile, it’s so goddamn obvious. Knocking shit off shelves in every store I go in. Why don’t they have wider aisles in maternity sections?! They know who’s fucking shopping there!”
It became too much, and I started to climax, letting out a single involuntarily moan as I shot all over my hands and crotch. She whipped around at my orgasmic noise, immediately seeing the cum running down my knuckles.
“Jesus Christ, Stephen. Again?”
She was extremely thin: heroin-chic level thin. Except for her abdomen, of course, which was a tight, taut basketball glued onto her tiny frame. Her breasts hadn’t seemed to grow at all, and any minuscule amounts of fat they may have developed elsewhere on kaçak bahis her body were completely undetectable. She was the very definition of the “all belly” preggo, in short.
When she faced me, I was in bliss, staring at that wonderful bump to my heart’s horny content. Every time she turned away and obscured her belly from view, though, I completely forgot about her pregnancy, arousal dissipating instantly. It was odd; I just could not hold onto the fact of her condition without it being presently visible to me.
She went about her business in the house we seemed to live in together, facing towards and away from me alternately, over and over. I’ve never had so many erections come and disappear in such short order. It was a novel set of sensations and cognitive misfires: I’ll give it that, at least.
I arrived home early from work, placing my briefcase in our home office. I heard the shower running in the adjacent bathroom: my wife was occupied at the moment. Glancing at her open laptop in passing, what I saw caught my eye and intrigued attention. She was looking at some hardcore pregnancy porn!
I’d never known she was into this kink (no kids yet, which would probably have exposed it), and I’d never divulged my own erotic obsession with preggos, either. I took a seat at her desk and browsed what she’d been looking at (great stuff!), basically waiting for her to finish her shower and catch me discovering her secret. This had the potential to lead to some real fun…
Finally, she exited the bathroom wrapped in her bathrobe, stopping abruptly at the office door when she noticed I was both home early and using her porn-filled computer. “What…are you doing…home?” She was one smooth operator, as you can tell. I smirked and crossed my arms, glancing between the computer screen and my stunned wife.
“So, what is this I’m looking at here? Is it that ‘pornography’ the youth are always talking about? What’s up with these ladies? It’s like they’re fat or something, but just in a very specific way, like mostly in their bellies. What’s going on there?” She was beet red, and I felt slightly guilty. I patted the rocking chair next to my desk chair, and she slumped into it, beginning to accept her embarrassment.
“Fine, you’ve got me, Stephen. I was watching porn, I didn’t think you’d be back for a few hours still, I got turned-on and thought I’d have some fun with myself in the shower. All right? Do you really need me to go into all the specifics for further humiliation?” She was sitting on top of her hands, right knee bouncing up and down quickly. Very nervous, in other words. I would have loved to act kindly and go easy on her, but this surprise overlap of our fetishes was something I just couldn’t leave alone.
“You don’t need to be embarrassed, sweetie. I’m not mad or grossed out or anything, I’m just kinda curious. I watched a little of what you’ve got here, and I can definitely see some appeal there. Wanna tell me a little about why you like it?” Her face lit up, clearly relieved that she wasn’t about to be shamed. She took a deep breath in and began.
“Well, I like the whole pregnancy thing for a bunch of reasons, honestly. And it’s not that I want to get pregnant at the moment or anything, in case you were worried about that. I’ve kinda been into it ever since puberty. Always been fascinated by pregnant ladies, and absolutely love watching them do dirty things. They’ve got all those fantastic curves, absolutely everywhere. Those tits swollen with milk!”
She’s practically swooning already. “The dark nipples, always threatening to leak milk and shooting it out like crazy with just a little pinch. And the bumps, obviously! Those delightful, delicate curves, getting rounder and more pronounced throughout the pregnancy. It’s all so feminine and body-affirming. I just love it, Stephen.”
I’m rock hard. It was really a thrill to hear my wife explain the fetish in her own words, all of which I wholeheartedly (but quietly, for the moment) agreed with. I didn’t reveal that I shared the fetish with her right then, but I did fuck her brains out as soon as humanly possible.
We’d definitely made some kind of connection here, and I could only imagine where revealing my own kink and/or her eventually becoming pregnant could lead us. Exciting stuff to consider!
Well, my girlfriend is officially pregnant. A lot of my (more realistic) fantasies will very soon become realities. I am beyond pumped. And we’re both horny as fuck, of course.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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