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Stories
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The Horny Sea Horse IV - Annie’s Turn to Shine
Well, hello there! Welcome. My name is Annie. You may have read about my first pregnancy in my husband Jarred's last pregnancy journal. He wrote three journals covering his three pregnancies, and inspired me to write this for my second pregnancy. I didn't journal during my first, but came to regret that decision shortly after giving birth to my son, Chris. I want a record of this incredible experience in my own voice. That's not to say Jarred didn't cover our simultaneous pregnancies adequately, but it's a lot different recording your thoughts rather than reading someone else's account of your actions. I love Jarred's journals, but I imagine I'll treasure this one even more deeply. Chris is 2 1/2 now, and I decided about 6 months ago that I wanted to get pregnant again. Jarred and I discussed the matter, and decided four kids are enough for us. There was always demand for pregnancy surrogates, though, and always room in our savings account for some extra cash. Getting paid to experience pregnancy again feels almost like stealing. Frankly, I'd pay for the privilege if I had to, and I'd be willing to pay a great deal. I felt as if I finally found myself as a fully-formed woman during my fantastic first pregnancy. Taking another swing towards self-actualization has had an almost magnetic pull for me. If you didn't read Jarred's journals, you might be unaware of the work our fertility specialist Dr. Lucas and his associates do. First, I was unable to conceive for a year, and found out my uterus couldn't carry a baby to term. Next, Dr. Lucas' experimental clinic was giving Jarred a synthetic uterus, allowing him to carry our first two children, Isabelle and Sam. Their male impregnation technology has since been widely adopted, and many thousands of men carry children every year. Dr. Lucas' clinic didn't stop with being able to impregnate men. They tackled female infertility next, which was apparently a tougher task. They accomplished it, though, and I was given the opportunity to experience a pregnancy firsthand. Jarred decided he wanted to have another pregnancy concurrent with mine, and we became pregnant with our boys, Chris and Max, on the same day as each other. I carried Chris, and Jarred carried Max. Jarred still has his synthetic uterus in place, too, but he hasn't decided yet if he'll use it again. His three pregnancies definitely tired him out progressively more, and I doubt he'll end up getting pregnant again. He'll have to have another C-section-like surgery to remove the uterus at some point...but that's really not our concern here at the moment. I have a functional reproductive system and love being pregnant. So, I started searching for a family that needed a surrogate. I found the Wilsons, Dave and Marie, and they're a lovely couple. She had to have a hysterectomy when she was in her 20s. Now both in their mid-30s, the Wilsons are very much ready for a baby. Luckily, they liked me as much as I liked them, and they trusted me enough to hire me to carry their baby. Their fertility clinic successfully extracted eggs from Marie, collected sperm from Dave, and made an embryo. They then implanted the embryo in my new and improved uterus, and, two weeks ago today, I had a positive pregnancy test. I am elated. Through the vast majority of my first pregnancy I was a hormone-fueled sex maniac, and I'm hoping to get well and truly horny once again. I was also a very happy preggo, never letting the small things bring me down, delighted at every surprise my body threw at me. There are no physical changes to speak of thus far, but I'm even looking forward to the return of morning sickness in the next few weeks. Every aspect of this magical journey thrills me, including the parts most preggos seem to complain about most. For one example, I didn't get any stretch marks during my first pregnancy, but I'm crossing my fingers I'll get some this time. I want to experience every single thing that comes with bringing a new life into the world. Actually, there has been one physical change already. My pussy has been constantly wet for a week and a half. MY 2ND PREGNANCY, MONTH 1 I'm feeling slightly fatigued and very, very horny. Both are hormonal, but horny is winning the battle against fatigue handily. Without the increased libido Jarred had in common with me during my first/his third pregnancies, he's already having trouble keeping up with me sexually. I've already fucked him twice today, and it's hardly past noon. I'm not sure he was fully awake for the first one, but his cock sure was. I've also been rubbing my clit at every opportunity, cumming constantly but never satisfied. I love it all. Jarred's raging pregnancy fetish will probably kick in when I start exhibiting more visible signs of pregnancy, and he'll get a lot hornier and more able to keep up with my sex drive. I should probably mention that I picked up the fetish myself rather intensely during my first pregnancy. I was never particularly interested in pregnancy, even through my husband's first two terms. He turned himself on with his body, but rarely me. It was wonderful to see him experience everything, but not in a sexual way for me. When I first got pregnant, though, my body turned me on even more so than Jarred's had turned him on. I enjoyed watching wild sex in person more than I enjoyed participating in it before I got pregnant with Chris. Once pregnant, I was the most enthusiastic participant you could ever find. I thought my newly sexual interest in pregnancy would end after childbirth, but it persisted. As did much of the horniness. We've gone as a couple to pregnant escorts about a dozen times in the past few years, briefly sating our rabid appetites each time. Being pregnant again now, I'm the sexual focal point for both myself and my husband. He'll catch up soon, I think, and be as incapable to keep his hands off my body as I am. Though he couldn't quite keep up with me when we were pregnant together, so he may have even less of a chance this time. His libido will increase, anyway, and, once I'm showing, he will be obsessed. A ball of putty in my hands. I thought I might kick-start his libido last night by taking out our silicone bellies and reminding him of what I'll look like very soon. I made our fake bellies by pouring silicone into the plaster body casts of Jarred's pregnancy with Sam from around 8 months, and his pregnancy with Max at nearly 41 weeks. I didn't do a body cast of my own bump during my first go round, but I'll surely make at least a few this time. I'd like one of my shape halfway through gestation as well as the more common full-term cast. I like the variety. I put the bellies on our bed and led Jarred to them to show rather than tell my idea. He was way into it; he's been dressing up as a pregnant woman since well before we met, fancy professionally-made silicone bellies and all. I let him choose a belly first, though there was never a question about which he wanted: the massive 41 week model seems to hit him like Viagra. Even glancing at the crotch of his pants as he picks up the belly, I can tell his cock is already stiffening and pressing against his jeans. He takes the pants off, along with his underwear and top. He does not care that I see he's erect already, and I love that about him. His cock gets hard when it gets hard, and he owns the things that can provide stimulation to his sex drive. Most of his friends even know about his pregnancy fetish; I think he's even proud of it, never ashamed. Besides Jarred and an ever-growing roster of preggo hook-ups, I haven't told a soul about my new proclivity for pregnancy. I can't even imagine whom I'd tell, or for what possible reason. Jarred has some real strength of character, and the courage of his convictions. I love him dearly. Naked in the bedroom now, Jarred goes into my closet to pick a dress to wear. He settles on a bright red bodycon maxi. It's going to be hot as fuck on him combined with that fake bump. He straps the belly on, pressing his tits into the top of it as he starts rubbing his cock gently. He has a real thing for tits resting on a pregnant belly. One of his hyper-specific micro-fetishes, alongside having cum rubbed into his pregnant bump, and getting his bump and cock rubbed at the same time. I can approximate the latter easily enough, but I'm not going to rub cum into the silicone bellies I made myself. It didn't gross me out in the least, but I want these bellies to last, and I have no clue as to the reaction of silicone to human sperm. Wait, they make many, many sex toys out of silicone, I'm just remembering. All right, I'll rub his cum all over his fake bump next time we take out the bellies. Jarred has the dress on over the bump, and the contrast between the huge round belly and his wiry frame nearly brings me to climax on the spot. I strap on the other belly and grab my favorite comfy dress, a soft but formfitting short white number. He loves this dress, too. It can't cover all of my torso with the belly added to my figure, and it rides up just enough for Jarred to get a glimpse of my unkempt pubic hair. We've both gone commando, just as we both know where this game of dress-up is headed. We sit on the edge of the bed and start rubbing each other's bumps and making out. Jarred places one hand on my braless tits, and my increasingly sensitive nipples positively sing with pleasure. I push him onto his back, his bump obscuring the upper half of his body from my view. I hike his dress up, pull him a bit closer to the edge of the bed, and lean over to rest my belly on the bed while I blow him. He can’t see any of this, but I’m sure he feels my mouth around his cock and my tongue working its spiraling magic. He’s moaning a bit too much for my purposes after just a few minutes of oral. I need to get that dick in me before he bursts. I don’t need to hike up my short dress; I just climb onto the bed and lower myself onto his cock facing away from. This is the only position we’ve found works consistently when we wear the bumps. My tight cunt takes him in all the way to the base of his cock, and I slowly raise myself up a few inches, then back down onto his cock, rhythmically and repeatedly. Or, to be more concise, I fuck him reverse cowgirl-style. I cum after a few dozen slides up and down his cock, and he follows directly as my pussy contracts in orgasm around him. It gets tight in there, and he can’t get enough. I hope this might jump-start his libido in anticipation of my growing a real bump. Even if that doesn’t come to pass, though, we just fucked hard and fast, just the way I like it. I think if I keep talking about how excited I am for the impending physical changes he’ll start to get more anticipatory sexual energy, too. At least I have another strategy to try if our fucking doesn’t take. I simply need that cock more frequently, and he simply cannot say no to his pregnant wife. MONTH 2 No, not writing this one, forget it. Fucking nausea. I’m going back to bed. MONTH 3 My nausea and vomiting have subsided, and I’ve been feeling much better for a few weeks. The nausea got bad enough to completely halt my sexual activity for two whole days. I find this unacceptable, but, as with so much of pregnancy, these bodily functions and changes are out of my control. Thinking about this loss of control gets me hot… Great. It’s too hard to type and rub one out at the same time. Please excuse the interruption. My sex drive is back, as you might’ve guessed. I surprised Jarred in the shower this morning, jumping in nude without warning. I kneeled to take his cock in my mouth and blew him to completion in mere seconds. I’m pretty sure I’d interrupted him jerking off, which explains the boner I found upon entering the shower and the tiny amount of effort that was required to get that jizz. I stand up and spit the jizz onto my tits, rubbing it down my abdomen until I’m rubbing it into the brand new firmness just under my navel. He reaches out and rubs the cum into my pre-bump more thoroughly, then grabs me for a deep kiss. I love a man who’ll kiss you when you’ve still got some of his cum in your mouth. Almost as much as I love a man who’ll kiss you when you’ve got someone else’s cum in your mouth. Feeling better on the nausea front and energized by my amazing newly firm uterus, I decided to use my excitement and a well-timed opportunity to go to my family’s cabin up in the mountains. I went alone, and packed no clothes but what I’d wear in the car on my way to and from. The cabin is secluded enough that I can confidently roam the property completely nude. Two nude days all by myself sounded amazing right now, though I’d miss Jarred’s cock. I make sure he throws it in me one more time before I leave. It’s a two-hour drive, and all I could think about was how much I wanted these fucking clothes off my magical body. That and my uterine firmness, on which I kept a hand for 95% of the trip. I can’t keep my hands off it, and I never want to. I want to feel my bump start to protrude as I’m rubbing the firm area, my unmoving hand registering every 1,000,000th of an inch of growth. I pulled up to the cabin with two fingers in my cunt and my thumb flicking my clitoris. I continued my activity to completion, put the car in park, exited the car, and tore off every article of clothing I was wearing. I went to the cabin with the intention of doing some uninterrupted meditation in a beautiful locale, and nude. The beauty is very much visible from just in front of the cabin: peaks, a lake, several wildflower-dotted meadows. It’s a gorgeous area, and my tits looked gorgeous in the sunlight. As did my pubic area. And my ass, I bet. I found myself on the ground quickly rubbing one out. It had been a long five minutes since I came in the car. I dropped my supplies off in the cabin and headed out to my favorite meadow. I laid myself down on a large batch of bright green grass. I like meditating on my back, not the lotus position. I stayed in that spot for over an hour, staring at the blue sky and thinking about my body, the baby growing inside me, Mother Nature, and a host of other topics I’d rather not go into. Some things are a little too private to share, even for a person who talks about her cunt as casually as most people discuss their hair. I felt connected to the world in a multitude of ways as I stood up, and was almost overwhelmed with the gratitude I felt for this pregnancy. It wasn’t my kid, but it was my magical journey. My mind filled with thoughts of my changing body once again, and I got a clear mental image of jerking Jarred’s cock until he explodes on my gigantic bump and proceeds to massage it into my skin. My bump was fully coated in shiny white in my mind’s eye, and my cunt was coating my upper thighs in vaginal fluids in the real world. I laid down on my stomach, using the force of gravity to land partially on my mons pubis, producing a shock wave of pleasure in the clitoris’ interior nerve endings. I continued to grind my pubis into the ground, which was just firm enough to be a satisfying surface for my needs. I reached down, thrust three fingers into my cunt, and moaned in pleasure. It took some change of position, but I eventually had my whole hand in there, and the pressure and weight of it had juices flowing freely down my wrist. I love fisting myself. I’ve never let anyone else put an entire hand inside me, but it’s a go-to for me in solo play. I used my other hand to rub my clit to one more climax before I removed my cunt hand, inhaling the musky odor coming off my fingers as soon as they were out of me. That’s more or less how the weekend went. I got there Friday evening, and successfully remained nude until Sunday afternoon. I’d spent most of my time either masturbating or meditating, and the rest swimming a bit, eating, and sleeping. I’ve tried to mix masturbation and meditation together on a number of occasions, but I’ve never climaxed from it. It’s a real shame. There’s some serious time-saving potential being squandered. MONTH 4 My ass seems to have grown overnight. It’s fuller and firmer and barely fits into my loosest jeans. My hips, too, have a sexy new curve to them. I’m hot as fuck. I might also be showing the slightest bit, but I’ve gotten so in my head about it that I can’t trust my eyes anymore. There’ll be a cute little bump there for the rubbing within the next few weeks, I’m sure. I’m disappointed to report that Jarred’s libido still hasn’t risen to an acceptable level for me, even with these smoking new curves. I think he may be jealous of my being pregnant while he’s not. I went through that twice from his end, and as a woman who’d always expected to get pregnant one day to boot. So, I understand and empathize with his reaction. I’m not worried, as I know how powerless he is when confronted with even the most modest pregnant bump. His cock will be mine for the taking again as soon as I’m showing. He knows he’s not meeting my sexual needs, and he permits me an even longer marital leash than I’d permitted him when he was solo pregnant. He just asked me to use protection for anything penetrative. I didn’t have to tell him what I did, bring him with me, or abstain from any particular acts. Thinking about this gets me wet as hell, and I head for our local college campus to hunt for horny undergrads. I’m going before I’m showing because these young folks tend to be weirded out by a visibly pregnant person, unless you get lucky and run into a fetishist. The boldest of the fetishists will ask if you’re single while you’re holding your husband’s hand. They really, really want to fuck a pregnant person, and some will risk bodily harm to throw their hat in the ring. I love these guys and gals. I wish they’d say “fuck it” to the stigma and be public about their proclivities. Start a club! Horny pregnant men and women will show up, pretty much guaranteed at least one fuck from an admirer. We need that sometimes, and you belly fuckers should step up. My jeans are tight as hell, my shirt is so low cut you can almost see my nipples and tight enough that you could probably make them out through the fabric if you tried. I’m not wearing a bra or panties, because they conflict with my goals. I want to be ready to have my nipples squeezed and pussy pounded at a moment’s notice. I walk around looking for any young men hanging out alone, without a clearly visible purpose. No readers, no phone-talkers, no fast-walkers. I need someone doing nothing so I can convince them to do me. I sit down next to one handsome young blonde gentleman, and he gets up immediately and walks off. Probably a coincidence, but it still stings. I get up and walk some more, eventually spotting a guy well over six feet tall, and not as frail looking as some young men with such height tend to be. His cock must be huge and I want it in me. He’s sitting under a tree, and I march right over and sit down six inches from him. I start chatting him up. His name’s Dave. He lives on campus, just a quarter-mile or so from here. I jump on this second piece of information from the awkward young man, and ask if we can go to his dorm room. He says his roommate may be there, but we can try. I’m such a fucking cradle robber! I only feel ashamed for a moment, then I move on to imagining Dave’s giant cock entering me from behind. I have a thought and ask him my most direct question yet: “Do you have a condom?” I really should’ve brought one, men are so fucking unreliable about this. “Yeah, in my room I’ve got plenty,” Dave says, shocking me with both his preparedness and his confidence in suggesting we may need more than one condom. His room is gross but unoccupied, so I can deal. I drop my jeans, rip off my shirt, and sit my bare ass down on his bed. He quickly and clumsily disrobes himself, visibly trying to come to terms with his good fortune. He sits next to me and i immediately lean over to take him in my mouth. His cock tastes great to me, and I really go to town…bringing him to climax in under a minute. I spit his cum into his wastepaper basket and ask when he’ll be able to go again. “…Half an hour?” he seems to guess. “It was nice blowing you,” I say, accidentally making a truly awful pun. I doubt he notices. I stand and re-clothe, then kiss him on the cheek before I open the door and walk my unsatisfied ass right out of the dormitory. When I get home, I’m ready to just about beg Jarred for a pounding. He’s clearly in the mood, though, and I have only to ask gently before he pulls me into the bedroom, pushes me facedown onto the bed, whips his cock out and enters me from behind. It’s heaven, and I moan for the neighbors to hear on his first thrust. He’s deep in that cunt, and it’s sensational. He starts slow, but can’t quite control himself, and speeds up rather quickly. So, we’re heading for another instance of premature ejaculation? Am I just that sexy today? He seems to regain control, luckily, and fucks me hard until he’s dripping sweat onto my my back, then taking his cock out and dripping cum on my back as well. I find it hot to be jizzed on anywhere on my person, but I’m always a bit disappointed by lower back. I can barely reach around to get any of it into my hand, I can’t rub it in, I can’t smell it…it’s just a waste of semen. MONTH 5 Oh, I am definitely showing now! My bump has gained at least an inch in protrusion in the past week, and my navel area is already starting to become pleasantly rounded! I’m turned on as all fuck. I desperately wish I could jizz, just so I could do it directly onto my bump as Jarred loved to do when he was pregnant. I also wish I could jizz because I like its smell, taste, and ability to coat a bump in a gorgeous white sheen. So…yeah, again, I’m very horny, and apparently thinking about jizz quite a bit. I’d like some to be shot somewhere on my body, and I’d like it ASAP. I carefully pick out an outfit to leave the house in: the purple shirt that fit me most snugly prior to the pregnancy before this one and a black mini skirt that barely makes it to my upper thighs. These curvy hips and the 40ish pounds I’ve gained through two pregnancies make this a real eye-catcher of an outfit. Anyone out in the world will easily catch a glimpse of my sheer white panties and the six inches of underbelly cleavage I’m going to be rocking. This shirt can’t even cover my navel when I’m actively trying to pull it over my bump. I’ll be getting attention left and right out there, and I’m hoping for strangers to cum on both my belly and my tits today. It’s good to have goals, and I want that semen sheen on my most engorged parts when I come back to Jarred with this sexual energy… I begin the day’s journey with a visit to the local Dave & Busters. Should be plenty of young-ish single guys there. The temperature is at about 60 degrees in the building when I enter, and my nipples are immediately erect and visible through my thin top. An excellent addition to my ensemble. I approach a handsome brunette playing a game four or five machines away from anyone else, and ask what he’s playing. He quickly gestures to the title of the game written on the arcade machine and gets back to his task. I move around to the other side of him and he finally catches a glimpse of me. He turns away from the game immediately, greeting me apologetically. His eyes work me up and down, spending plenty of time on my nipples, midriff, and upper thighs. Check, check, and check; outfit successful. I rub my bump and use my most flirtatious tone: “See anything you like?” He affirms that he does, and compliments my legs. “Anything else?” I ask, taking his hand and placing it on my exposed bump. “What - “ He starts to ask what’s going on, and I instantly realize my forcing his hand onto my belly was the first indication he’d received that I was pregnant. Bad lighting over here, maybe? “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m meeting someone.” He jogs away. Truly jogs. Apparently I’m a very frightening specimen. My time here has been brief, but I know right away I’m not coming back from the initial rejection. Next location, please! I try a nearby sports bar next. It’s about noon on a weekday, and I know the clientele is going to be a little seedy. I’m not opposed to some seedy behavior on occasion, especially if I can get a cum massage out of it. There are a total of four people in the place, three male and one female. They’re sitting in a random but thoroughly spaced out pattern, and I feel like I’ve got four chances here, three if I insist on the possibility of a cum bath. The TVs in here are loud enough that I don’t have to worry about other patrons overhearing a conversation. No reason I can’t strike out with one and move on unscathed to the next. One man looks 65 and homeless, one looks to be 40 and on a lunch break from a third-tier bank, and the third is a twenty-something who seems engrossed in the college basketball playing on the many TVs. The lady is in her 30s, long blonde hair, and just about visibly fading in beauty. Probably an alcoholic, especially given the four empty pint glasses in front of her at midday. I’m feeling like a dirty girl today, so I decide to try the homeless guy first. I approach him, and he stares me down far too intensely, never breaking eye contact. I back away, alarmed. All right, on to the next one. I can’t quite imagine getting with either of the remaining guys, so cum be damned, I’m gonna try to pick up the lady. I’m a few feet away from her table, and she shouts, “Sit!” and gestures to the seat next to her. I graciously accept, my hand resting on my bump in an effort to get it noticed this time. “Oh, pregnant? What are you doing in here?” she asks. I tell her I’m looking for a good time, and she glares at me. “With me?” she asks, her suspicion of me becoming clear. I tell her I think she’s cute, and lean over so she sees my considerable cleavage. She remains silent, and I ask her if she thinks I’m cute. Christ, am I thirsty! She says “I suppose” and turns away from me and towards a TV. Okay, two rejections in and I do not have the balls to risk another two. I settle on GameStop for my last attempt, now aiming to coat but one modest body part in cum before I return home. If I can’t get some loser at GameStop to cum on me, I may as well hang up my spurs. I enter the store, finding two young ladies behind the counter and zero visible men. Fan-fucking-tastic. “Can I help you?” one of the cashiers offers, and I tell her I think I’ve entered the wrong store. She doesn’t seem to hear me, as her eyes are glued to my bump and she is enthralled by me. “Oh, you’re pregnant!” She’s annoyingly cheery, and I’m pretty sure she’s not packing any jizz. Coming around to me from behind the counter, she directly asks if she can touch my belly. “Please do!” I’m genuinely relieved by her interest, happy to finally be seen as something other than a freak. I take her left hand and place it on my modest bump. Her eyes grow wide, and she rubs in gentle circles for an awkward amount of time. I finally ask her if she’s felt a pregnant belly before, and she snaps out of her reverie. “No, I haven’t, but I’ve always wanted to!” She’s back to rubbing, this time with both hands. She stops, looks at the clock, and asks if I want to get coffee. Her shift is over. If this is what I’m left with, so be it. I accept the invitation, and we exit the store together. We decide to walk over to the Starbucks fifty feet from Gamestop, and I lead us to a relatively private corner. “I have about a million questions!” She has absolutely no filter. I decide to start providing some general background on myself rather than face a barrage of awkward queries. I explain my infertility, my husband’s solo pregnancies, our simultaneous pregnancies, and my current surrogate gig. She looks blown away, and she’s not talking, she’s just staring at my tits. “I’m attracted to you,” she whispers. I ask if she likes women, and she shrugs helplessly. I ask if she likes my pregnant belly, and she nods enthusiastically. “You’ve got the fetish, haven’t you?” Her eyes widen with the realization that yes, she is a pregnant fetishist. Apparently the belly rub back at GameStop really awoke the beast in her. “I live nearby, and no one else is home. Come with me.” She nods wordlessly, and we both stand up and exit. She rides with me back to the house, the air in the car heavy with our collective horniness. We wordlessly enter my home, and I take her hand and lead her directly to the bedroom and point to the chair in the corner. She sits down, and looks up at me expectantly. I rip off my top, skirt, and panties, revealing my entire curvy form to her. Her eyes have somehow gone even wider. I approach her, kneel down, and pull her forward so that her crotch is at the edge of the chair. I gently unbutton her work pants, pull them off, and am frankly shocked to see she had gone to work commando. Something of a dirty girl, it turns out! Her face reddens slightly, but I smile at her and stroke her light pubic hair, then gently spread her legs to reveal her visibly wet vulva. “Fantastic,” I whisper, moving my head to her crotch. She seems like the type who probably hasn’t been properly eaten out before. I get to it, teasing her with licks around the edges of her labia before inserting two fingers right into her. Her moan is involuntarily and loud. I smile while still licking, making tiny circular motions with the fingers inside her cunt. Her posture softens as I continue my effort, and I decide it’s clit time, I find her clit easily with the tip of my tongue, then put my entire mouth over its general area and start to alternate between sucking and tonguing her button. I get her off four times, if her cunt contracting around my fingers is to be believed. I finally stop and stand up in front of her. She stares reverently at my protruding navel area, reaching out to it for another rub. I let her have at it, and her other hand timidly reaches for my tits. I bend down slightly and my left tit lands directly in her palm. She squeezes it gently, stroking the dark nipple with her middle finger. She’s a natural at grabbing tits, and I feel my own vaginal juices starting to flow. I move her tit hand down past her belly hand and to my cunt. I adjust my posture to spread my legs apart a bit, and she gently strokes my vulva for just a moment. “I think I have to go!” She’s freaked out. This all has probably been too fast and too much for her. She started her day relatively innocent, besides the commando thing. Now, she’s had a hook-up with a pregnant lady after being informed for the first time that she has a thing for pregnant folks. It’s just too much for one day. On the other hand, I have been sans orgasm all afternoon, and I can use her as an audience if nothing else. I sit down on the bed. “I’ll drive you home in a minute, but first just let me finish,” I say, my hand starting to massage my cunt. She looks apprehensive at first, then I offer to let her rub my bump while I get off. She nodes enthusiastically, still unrestrainedly excited by the pregnant form on display. I lower myself onto my back, and she sits next to me and puts a little more pressure on my abdomen this time, which drives me wild. I get faster and faster with my cunt hand, and climax thinking about how much I’ve corrupted this young woman. What are you gonna do, I got her home safely, I’m sure she’s fine. Weird afternoon… Moving forward! Jarred was amused and turned on by my stories of scantily-clad rejection. He coated more than my bump and tits that night. I went to sleep with my whole body shining. MONTH 6 My bump is protruding more and getting rounder and wider. It’s finally a size that lets me get both hands solidly on my abdomen at the same time, and I love gripping it on either side. Or top and bottom. Or any combination of sides. I just love grabbing my bump! I got head from Jarred this morning while gripping my belly with both hands the entire time. I came HARD. Tongues are generally not what I’ve been thinking about putting inside myself, though. I’ve been fisting myself pretty regularly during my solo sessions, and I’m really craving something that’ll stretch me out even more. Jarred’s dick is more than ample for most purposes, but not quite up to this particular task. I lug my engorged body to the sex toy shop for the third time this week. There’s a black ribbed dildo that’s bigger than any cock I’ve taken and wider in diameter than my fisting hand. That’ll do. I take my car to an empty section of the grocery store parking lot next door and try it out, too impatient to wait the ten minutes driving home. It’s exactly what I was looking for, and I’ve finished after thrusting the dildo in and out of my cunt a mere four times. I keep my skirt hiked up while I drive home just in case the mood strikes again… Jarred meets me as I’m opening the front door, kisses my cheek and whispers “8 o’clock tonight” into my ear. I flash back to the night I had my pregnant husband tied to the posts of our bed. He was blindfolded and got his ears plugged as well so that I could get my pregnant best friend Rachel into the bedroom and surprise Jarred with her gravid 8 month form already just about on top of him. I got wet thinking about it, and crossed my fingers that I was correct in assuming tonight Jarred would return the favor. I wonder if there’d be a special guest. Would he bring in Rachel again? Someone else we’ve fooled around with? A total stranger? I had no clue, and that got me even wetter. Jarred keeps his distance from me for the majority of the day. Probably doesn’t want to spoil anything for me, excited and nervous he’ll prematurely spill a detail. I’m not complaining; the new dildo really takes up my free time. It’s got a suction cup on the base and I attach it to our full-length mirror, flat on the floor of our bedroom. This is a favored technique to get some fun and unusual views of myself as I get off. Which I do repeatedly. On the mirror, then from the wall of the shower, the floor of the shower, the other wall of the shower…It’s pretty fun in the shower, I guess I’m saying. My water-based lube flows as freely as the water pouring over my gravidness. I can’t keep my hands off my newly plump bump. Or my engorged clit. Or my growing tits. I am so, SO horny in anticipation of 8 o’clock. I can’t stop thinking about it, so I don’t stop masturbating. I try watching porn without touching myself for as long as possible, a fun solo activity I use to pleasantly kill time on occasion. I go with pregnant content. Little else interests me when I’m expecting. I make it five minutes without touching myself on the first try. Then six. Seven. Three. One. Aaaaand I’m just going without any breaks for the entirety of an hourlong clip. Pregnancy fatigue and exertion finally tire me out, and I fall asleep to the next video in the queue, naked on top of our comforter. I’m gently shaken awake, and my eyes go immediately to the clock. 8:01. Fuck yes! “I can see you’re ready,” Jarred says, raising his eyebrows at my lack of clothing. He pulls out the same restraints I’d used on his sexy pregnant body several years ago. I’m tied to the bedposts and blindfolded in short order. I’m unbearably wet by the time he’s finished binding me. This is already gloriously unbearable. He’s left my ears alone. He must want me to hear what he’s doing before we start in earnest, and I listen closely. I hear him open the front door. Some quiet conversation in the next room. I can make out two sets of footsteps entering the bedroom. I’m pretty confident I can identify Jarred’s steps by sound. The other steps I hear sound like they’re coming from a significantly heavier source. I’m getting wetter and wetter. I hear faint noises of clothing being dropped on the floor… Jarred finally speaks. “Listen up,” he says, and loud slurping sounds begin. A voice far deeper than Jarred’s starts to moan. He’s blowing a large man! I want all the genitalia in the room to enter me at once. I briefly strain against my right arm’s restraints, so horny I forget I can’t touch myself. The slurping and moaning continue for a few minutes, I think. My mind is addled with anticipation and time is impossible to keep track of. The noises finally stop, footsteps approach. My ankle and wrist restraints are undone, though Jarred sternly tells me not to even think about moving without his permission. He pulls my whole body down towards the mystery guest. Cunt flush with the end of the bed, I’m now easily fuckable even with my bump. It is intensely difficult not to touch myself, but I manage to refrain. “I think it’s time to see what you’re dealing with,” Jarred says from just next to me as I feel him removing my blindfold. There’s a huge pregnant man at the foot of the bed, visible above my feet-obscuring belly. It’s The Cock!!! During his second pregnancy, Jarred had brought The Cock (and his friend, whom we’d named “The Belly”) home from cruising the men’s section of Motherhood. I had hornily observed their three-way in this very room. He was still hirsute and attractively chubby. His belly, though, which had been sizable last time, was now almost incomprehensibly huge. He sees me staring at his midsection, and states “It’s twins this time.” The titanic bump holds his milk-engorged tits up nearly to his chin, and must protrude two feet from his abdomen and six inches out on either side of his torso at its furthest reaches. It rests all the way down on his cock. It probably would’ve obscured most men’s members, but we hadn’t given him the moniker of “The Cock” for nothing. And it was spelled with a capital “C” for a reason. It was fully erect and at least ten inches long, with a girth that makes my cunt drip juices down my thighs. I am so, so very happy to see The Cock again… No foreplay, to my delight. Our guest approaches me swiftly, lifting his extraordinarily heavy belly with both hands to place atop mine. Bellies relatively out of the way, The Cock’s mammoth dick fully enters my pussy. I’m honestly shocked I can accommodate it. I can feel my cunt stretching around him, and I cum during his first thrust. A new personal record! He goes in and out of me slowly and deliberately, always thrusting balls deep. I come six times before he finally pulls out and shoots on my bump. His load is the most substantial I’ve ever seen, and my jaw has dropped open. He grabs his belly with hands and rubs our bumps together, coating us both in opalescent glory. My right hand involuntarily rushes in to rub my cunt in ecstasy, and Jarred doesn’t object to my unapproved movement. He must see the need in my eyes. I get myself off quickly, then rub The Cock’s shining gut with both hands for a moment. I’m quickly back at my cunt with one hand, the feeling of his aggressively stretched out and intensely tight bump driving me nuts. I’ve lost count of my orgasms: another first for me. After lots of belly and cunt rubbing, I rightly assume The Cock’s ready to get off again and motion for Jarred to join us. My husband’s hands stick to The Cock’s gravid center like they were glued there, massaging his cum-coated hugeness fervently. It’s hot as all fuck. I get a dick in both hands and start jerking. I make sure they’re both right above my tits and belly when they climax, and I’m positively dripping in cum. I rub it in but it’s just too much for me to absorb, and I can feel it running down my entire torso. The Cock’s second load seemed somehow even bigger than the first, defying everything I knew about male physiology and semen. I’m not sure I’ve been this turned on in my entire life. I catch some of the excess ejaculate with two fingers and offer them to Jarred, who eagerly shoves the men’s mixed-together loads into his mouth. More rubbing, jerking, and coating ensue, but at a more relaxed pace. It’s suddenly 10 o’clock, and pregnancy fatigue is getting disruptively pronounced. We finally put some clothes back on, closing out one of the best experiences in my sexual history. Having been lusting after bigger and bigger things to stick in my cunt, Jarred’s choice of special guest had been positively perfect. I insist The Cock stick around for a few minutes post-coitus for a refreshment. I need to know more about this magnificent stranger. His real name is Dan, though he loves the moniker we admit to applying to him. Jarred had once more found him cruising the men’s section of Motherhood last Wednesday, 8 months into this pregnancy. We learn he was the one who actually turned that weekly hour into a hot pick-up zone, though he’s modest about it, claiming to just have set it in motion and watch it take off in popularity over the years. He’s kept himself pregnant as constantly as possible since getting his uterus, with surrogacies following the two children his wife wanted. “Baby out, embryo in,” he explains concisely. This is his first time with twins and he seems as in awe of his bump as I am. The Cock leaves at around 11, but not before I get his phone number. If this incredible specimen is permanently pregnant, I will most certainly be calling on him again in the future. Actually, the constant pregnancies are just a bonus; I’m unable to fathom not having that cock in me again at some point. Once we’re alone, I lead Jarred directly back to the bedroom, horniness having overtaken fatigue for the moment. I push him into the corner chair, telling him he’s not allowed to move. I get some modest revenge on him with the slowest striptease and cunt rubbing I can muster, performing for him for a solid twenty minutes. I don’t let him so much as touch my hand until the next morning, when I can’t resist taking his morning erection in my mouth. The Cock’s bump has stirred up a considerable amount of envy in me, and I wonder if I might attempt a twin pregnancy at some point myself… MONTH 7 I’m in my third trimester and starting to waddle, my bump getting larger and more unwieldy by the day. My horniness hasn’t subsided a bit, though, and I can hardly stop thinking about the marvelous dalliance with The Cock a few weeks ago. A few Wednesdays after our encounter, I decide I’m going to try cruising Motherhood’s weekly pick-up lunch hour myself, crossing my fingers that I might run into The Cock again. I put on my tightest and whitest bodycon dress, no underwear. My dark, untended pubic hair and deeply brown nipples are very, very clearly visible, and I’m ready to fucking go. I head to the mall, entering Motherhood just before noon. The Cock doesn’t show up to his own creation today, but I’m quickly fine with his absence. The store is a veritable buffet of hot pregnant bodies, male and female. Jarred had said the men’s section was the place to be, but at least on this particular Wednesday the action seems to have spread to cover the entire store. I eye-fuck every single preggo thoroughly, struggling to make any sort of decisions between the embarrassment of sexy riches on display. There’s really not a dud in the store, besides the starkly un-pregnant and uncomfortable-looking middle-aged woman behind the counter. Every customer is both showing and showing off. My dress is far from the tightest in the store, and somehow not even the most revealing. I’m one of the few women not to be baring at least part of her belly, if not all of it: one lady’s just wearing a sports bra and a mini-skirt, allowing the entirety of her third trimester torpedo belly to be admired by all. There’s a line of four preggos to her side, all waiting to get their hands on that sharply protruding bump. I make a mental note to flirt with her if the crowd thins; I’ve yet to experience that particular model of gravidness firsthand. The expectant men’s shirts must average two sizes too small. Underbelly cleavage is so prevalent it’s hard for any one person’s to stand out, not helping with my indecisiveness. One man towards the back of the store does stand out to me, though. He’s dressed very conservatively for the occasion, wearing a button-down blue dress shirt tucked into light khaki pants. Less of his skin is showing than about any other preggo’s in the store, but he’s at least 6’ 4” and obese, so he’s easy to spot towering over everyone else. I can’t see his belly over the rack he’s browsing, but his tits are massive and encouraging. Approaching and catching my first glimpse of his whole form, my first thought is surprise that any company makes shirts that can contain him. His belly takes up as much of his torso as the Cock’s twin belly had, but his is far more filled out with fat, and very, very soft looking even through the dress shirt. A big, beautiful man. Is BBM a term yet? It really needs to be, I’ve just discovered. I hadn’t fantasized about such a fat man in my life, but my pussy was urging me on with juices that may well have been showing through my white dress. I did not particularly care if I was visibly wet and who noticed, and I struck up a conversation with this rare and titillating specimen. “I want to fuck you,” I blurted out, my face instantly reddening. He laughed, and I was in. I think he may have been too intimidating a figure for some to approach. My bluntness and awkwardness seemed to endear me to him, and we decided to search for a third. Why not capitalize further on this embarrassment of pregnant riches, after all? With such a stand-out preggo man next to me, I decide we’re a big enough draw that we can try for Mrs. Torpedo Belly. There’s no longer a crowd waiting to massage her bump, so Fat Man and I approach directly. I impulsively lift the bare torpedo in both hands before either of us says a word to her, and my embarrassing bluntness leads to a laugh once again. This is a viable strategy to get noticed in a crowded field, I’m learning. We introduce ourselves belatedly. She looks Fat Man up and down, eyes widening and smile creeping across her lips. Patting his belly lightly and unashamedly staring at the wet spot that had indeed developed at my crotch, she agreed to come home with us. We head to our cars, and I can’t help but rub one out on the short drive home. Or, rub two out. I call Jarred in between orgasms to warn him of our impending arrival. He’ll be in the observation chair in the corner of the bedroom, just as I had been during his Motherhood-based three-some. [Just to be unequivocally clear about this, I mean “Fat Man” with whole-hearted respect and absolutely no insult. This guy is very, very hot, I appreciate every inch and ounce of him, and I wouldn’t judge him for a second. It’s an entirely affectionate moniker. He’s fat, and it’s great. Body positivity all the way, motherfuckers!] Our guests decline Jarred’s offer of refreshments, and Fat Man suggests we get to the bedroom. Torpedo Belly nods enthusiastically. They may be even hornier than I am, which gets me very excited for what’s to come. We get to the bedroom and get naked. I’m pleasantly surprised to see Fat Man’s belly is entirely hairless; it provides a nice contrast to the Cock’s hirsuteness I enjoyed a few weeks ago. I am very modestly shaped compared to my partners. All forms exposed, I realize the size of the bumps I’ve gathered may make accessing genitals difficult, if not impossible, in our three-way situation. I’m getting wetter just from considering this cumbersome three-preggo challenge. We stand as close to each other as we can, bumps rubbing together copiously as we form a triangle. Every bump has one hand from each of the other preggos on it. We’re gently caressing at first, our hands’ motions speeding up as excitement builds. There’s also plenty of pushing in on Fat Man’s soft belly and lifting up of Torpedo Belly’s precariously drooping bump. No one’s able to resist such fun temptations, and the receiving parties don’t seem to mind at all. Torpedo eventually pushes Fat Man onto his back on the bed, kneeling next to him to take his cock in her mouth. I’m instantly enamored of the flatter, softer, even more expansive aspects of his belly when he’s supine, and I kneel next to him on the bed to start grabbing, prodding, and caressing. His softer and firmer parts delight me. I spend several minutes exploring every inch of his beautiful bump. “Want some lubrication?” he asks in between moans. I think I get his meaning, and I nod enthusiastically. He taps Torpedo on the head, she removes her mouth from his cock, and he finishes himself off with his dick against the bottom of his belly. I quickly gather every iota of his cum in my hands. I’ll need all I can get to coat this beast properly! Just managing to get a thin layer of sheen across the entirety of his mid-section, I lean back and take in the sight of his giant shininess. My reverie only lasts a few moments before I feel compelled to lean in and start licking it off. As I begin this considerable task, Torpedo positions herself behind me and kneels down, her drooping bump resting on the floor. She spreads my legs gently and begins eating me out from behind. “Oh, Christ,” I hear from Jarred’s seat, and I glance over to see him naked and masturbating furiously. I cross my fingers that Torpedo can handle the extra fluids I feel myself producing. My tongue gets tired before I can get to every inch of Fat Man’s abdomen, and I leave him glistening from his navel down. I decide I want a turn to glisten and take his new erection in one hand and start pumping, rubbing his shinier section with the other hand. He gets off quickly with the dual rubbing. I gather his cum in my palms and start massaging it into my hanging bump, moaning as Torpedo’s cunnilingus work intensifies. She finishes me off as I finish coating myself, and she moves herself into position over Fat Man’s face, lowering her cunt onto his mouth and moaning as he goes directly for her clit. Her bump is protruding straight into empty space toward the head of the bed, and it is just too inviting. I kneel where our pillows usually are, facing her and lifting her bump in both hands. It’s very, very heavy, like two dense watermelons sticking straight out of her. I press it to my cum-basted bump and move it around gently in circles, spreading the ejaculate onto her. She reaches down and rubs it in further, moaning with Fat Man’s intense tongue work. I notice his erection has returned, and I move around the bed to mount him, my belly on top of his. Torpedo Belly cums loudly. I cum loudly. Fat Man cums loudly. I decide to let his seed stay in me this time, and enjoy the feeling of it starting to dribble down my thighs as I dismount. An idea strikes, and I let what’s dripping from me collect in my hand, then run over to rub it into Jarred’s flat stomach. I cross my fingers that Fat Man doesn’t disapprove of this unauthorized use of his semen, but I think he’ll be fine with it. Jarred smiles widely in appreciation and helps me massage the cum into himself, then finishes himself off again and mixes his own cum with it. There’s more on him than one man could possibly use, so I gather some of the excess and rub the hot, hot mess onto my bump and pussy, using it as lubrication as I rub my clit to another quick climax. I look back to the bed and both of my pick-ups are laying on their backs, breathing deeply and gently caressing their own and each other’s bellies. I think this orgy is pretty much complete, but I go over and rub their bellies some more for some innocent fun. We’re all clearly exhausted as we slowly get clothed. I insist they each have at least a glass of water before they leave. Way too many fluids had been spilled in there for them not to need a little rehydration. MONTH 8 For the first time, I have a pregnancy effect I’ve long envied: the thin, dark line of hair running from the top of my belly to my navel. I keep my shirts hiked up over my belly even more than usual so that I can stroke it. Or just keep my shirt off entirely, as I’m spending a serious amount of time admiring and caressing this huge belly. It’s rounder, firmer, and more physically limiting than ever; I could hardly be hornier. It may, in fact, be bigger now than I’d ever gotten in my first pregnancy. Subsequent pregnancies add size, I know, but probably not enough so that I should look bigger now than I did at 9 months last time. Dave and Maria Wilson, the couple for whom I’m carrying this child, called me last week to plan a visit with me before the baby’s born. I’m not sure why they want to meet, exactly, but am glad to oblige. They meet me at a quiet local coffee shop. The moment I see them again I have an epiphany about the reason for my surprisingly large bump: these are some very large folks that have their baby growing inside me. They’re not fat but solidly built, and each are at least six inches taller than their genders’ averages. I wonder if I really want to deliver this one vaginally, or maybe go for the C-section this time… They tell me they hoped to experience just a bit of my very pregnant state, not wanting to miss out entirely on the wonders of gestation. I’m asked a litany of questions, and they get progressively more personal. How I’m doing emotionally, how this compares to my last pregnancy, how my belly is progressing, what sorts of unpleasant symptoms I’m having, etc. They ask if they can touch my belly, which I happily bare and allow them to rub and prod for several minutes. They’re entranced with it. I have an inkling of what they really want, and go with tried and true bluntness: “You know, if you’re interested, I can show you more back at home. My body, I mean. Nothing weird, just…I’d like you to see it, if you’re not too uncomfortable.” Locking eyes with each other, they nod purposefully, and we are in my bedroom within 15 minutes. I have them sit on the bed. They stay fully clothed, of course; this encounter is just about my body, not theirs. I take off my top but keep my bra on at first, letting them really get a good view of the entirety of my belly. I encourage them to touch it, and they explore me extensively with four hands on my bump at once. I’m getting slightly wet, but it feels inappropriate for the occasion. I’ll rub one out once they’ve gone. Eventually, they both stop rubbing on me, and make brief eye contact with each other. Awkwardly, they ask if I’d be willing to show them a few more of my bodily changes, if that didn’t make me too uncomfortable. It didn’t, of course, and my bra is off immediately. I unzip my pants, too, pulling them and my panties down in one motion. Proud of my form, I stand directly in front of them, entirely exposed. We spend minutes upon minutes in absolute silence. Never awkwardly, somehow. Their reverence is palpable. I see them peruse the whole of my body during the first few moments, especially focusing on my engorged, milk-filled breasts. Eventually, though, they both seem to be right back at my bump, eyes glued to it for the vast majority of my nude time. My presence is taken in thoroughly and serenely. I can’t say what’s going through their minds for all this time, but I’m in an almost meditative state for the duration. I’m right back in the meadow near my family’s cabin, laying in the grass and contemplating the growing baby inside me. My changing body. Nature’s many miracles. It was a much more sedate encounter than most of my pregnant and naked experiences, and I loved every bit of it. MONTH 9 I’m definitely bigger than i ever got last pregnancy, and even bigger than Jarred got during any of his three. He’s jealous, but also can’t keep his hands to himself for five minutes. I’ve got new stretch marks appearing daily. I’m cumbersome to a point I’m starting to find substantially less sexy than it was last month. Love my waddle still, though. Overall, I’m feeling pretty done with this pregnancy at this point. I remain at least at a low level of horniness, though. Getting myself off has gotten challenging, awkward, and downright tiring. I can only keep my arm stretched around my massive center for so long, and not always long enough to cum. I have to use the other hand to hold my belly up for cunt access, which is also tiring but makes me wet in its own right. Luckily, I’m not the only one who can get me off. Last time I was 9 months pregnant and tired-horny, gravid Jarred was in the exact same boat, and we could barely help each other. This time, svelte Jarred’s unencumbered body is an absolute godsend. He eats me out, rubs my clit, coats my belly in cum, or does just about anything I might desire on command. I even had him fist me for the first time, to his delight and my immense pleasure. He’s adorably attentive, rarely leaving my side or taking his hands off my stretched-to-capacity bump. My labor has already started. My water broke four hours ago, and we’re waiting for my contractions to get just a bit closer together before we leave for the hospital. I wanted to share with everyone as close to birth as possible. Wish me luck! EPILOGUE My delivery experience was great! A mere ten minutes of pushing, no complications, healthy baby, intact pussy. DELIGHTED parents. They were adorable holding their daughter for the first time, and thanked me profusely. They even added a very generous tip to my last payment. I’m keeping my uterus in, as I can’t imagine I’m done with pregnancy. I’ll take a break for at least half a year, then probably look into surrogacy again. I don’t think I could resist it if I wanted to. The Cock’s mind-blowing twin belly has remained on my mind the past few months, especially seeing how modest my bump was at the end compared to his. He’d told us finding a twin surrogacy gig had been difficult, but it was possible. And I could really use some extra cash for that screened-in porch Jarred and I have been eyeing. Almost certainly to be continued, loves…
Another fantastic entry! Great work!
The Horny Sea Horse V - Annie’s Triplets
Hello, everyone! Annie here once again. Let’s jump right in: It had been 18 months, and I was fed up with not being pregnant. I’d seen online that Dr. Lucas’ clinic had just recently taken twin pregnancies from the experimental column to the everyday business column, fully approved by the medical establishment. Since then, I had been thinking an awful lot of our friend The Cock’s incredibly massive and inspiring twin belly. I wanted that experience for myself. He’d told me it had been difficult to find a surrogacy gig for twins, and my first few weeks of research confirmed that. Nearly a month into my search, I finally found a listing on the same site I’d used to make my arrangement last time. I emailed the couple that was looking for a surrogate, trying to keep my hopes in check. These things rarely work out on the first try. The day after that email, I found an ad for a couple looking for someone to carry triplets. I was stunned at my luck and nervous about the implications, but instantly all-in. Having never even heard of a triplet pregnancy in a synthetic uterus, I called Dr. Lucas. He said they were prepared for a triplet pregnancy “on an experimental basis.” They hadn’t yet done such an implantation in his clinic, but a handful of sister clinics in Europe and Asia had had promising successes with it. He then warned me jokingly that “we will not be implanting quadruplets anytime soon, though.” It seemed like a joke to him, maybe, but it was legitimately useful to my pregnancy-addicted ass. I emailed the triplets couple immediately after getting off the phone with the doctor. They got back to me within two hours, thrilled to have heard from an interested party who had successfully carried her own and a surrogate baby in previous pregnancies. As they lived halfway across the country, we had our first meeting via Zoom. Stacie and John Danbury were lovely, lovely people. Also, as I’d learn would be relevant from my last surrogacy, they were on the larger side and thus would more than likely produce large babies. They had frozen a dozen embryos five years ago, when they’d begun having issues conceiving. Every treatment imaginable and nine failed implantations later, they’d given up on Stacie carrying a child herself, but still had the last three embryos frozen. They’d wanted three children all along and weren’t getting any younger, so they figured they’d shoot for all three in one go. If they could find someone to put themselves through a triplet pregnancy. They had found exactly that, and we started talked about our next steps. I flew out to them as soon as I could get a flight and they could get an appointment for us at their IVF clinic. We decided I’d stay with them after implantation until I got a positive pregnancy test result so I wouldn’t have to endure a bumpy flight while my body was going through something so sensitive. It would be two weeks before we could get a trustworthy result, but they had a swimming pool, cable, and a finished basement with full bath for me to use. Right at the two week mark I took a test, and it was positive. That was two days ago, and I got home last night. I’m still processing the news, trying to comprehend what’s coming. So very, very many unknowns are to come in the next nine months. But, one thing is known: I’M FUCKING PREGNANT WITH TRIPLETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Triplet Pregnancy, Month 1 I confirm I am indeed pregnant with triplets at Dr. Lucas’ office a few days after getting home. Hearing from a source more official than a stick I just peed on made it a little more real, both excitingly and scarily. He warned me of the many possible complications of this gestation. Carrying triplets was automatically considered a “high risk” pregnancy. There were lots of new things to watch out for and symptoms to look forward to that hadn’t been issues in my singleton pregnancies. And, the things that had been present before would almost certainly be more severe now. AND, things would progress much more rapidly. I was overwhelmed and excited…mostly overwhelmed, though I was trying very hard to stay optimistic. Three days after confirming the pregnancy, my navel area is noticeably firmer, and in an area twice as big as I’d previously felt. This is at least two months early for this, based on my previous pregnancies. I’m also already very, very exhausted. And morning/afternoon/evening sick. And my shoes don’t fit. And my nipples are dark and sore. Rapid progression, indeed. I’m not enjoying the startling suddenness or abrupt severeness of the symptoms. I’m nervous about what to come. Worst of all, I’m not even a little bit horny. I haven’t cum since the morning of the positive pregnancy test at the Danburys’. I’m shocked that a pregnancy has eradicated my libido rather than starkly deepening it. And I’m worried I won’t get it back. One small plus side is the doctor’s recommendations on caloric intake. I’m supposed to take in an extra 300 calories each day. Per fetus. Adding 900 calories to your daily diet is a bit intimidating at first, but I’ve acclimated to it pretty thoroughly already. I’m eating some of the junkiest shit I can find without guilt, as well as continuing to eat my usual fruits, veggies and general healthy maternity diet. And even more protein than usual, the doctor recommended. I think about cum as a protein source and feel a tiny bit of blood flow in my groin. Turns out I’m not dead down there after all. I’m delighted, and hope to have more positive news next month! MONTH 2 I’m 2 months in and already showing. This is the first of my way early developments I’m pleased about. It’s been visible for two weeks and it’s already started turning heads in public, noticeable even to strangers. I’m already experiencing all the usual weight and size gain in my thighs, tits, belly, and ass. Additionally, I’m gaining weight more rapidly in other parts of my body. My face is noticeably filling out, belly growing with soft fat as well as firm uterus, arms and legs definitely thickening. Jarred seems to like the look of me very much; he’s always liked BBW pregnant chicks most of all. Less pleasant developments include constipation, hemorrhoids, and varicose veins. I won’t write much about them, though, as I’m trying my damnedest not to focus on the negatives. So, back to a positive: I had my first ultrasound yesterday at Dr. Lucas’ office and I saw the three heartbeats, all on the same screen! It was magical to see and know it was occurring within me. I’ll have to see Dr. Lucas twice a month during this pregnancy, as he’ll want to catch any potential complications as early in their development as possible. He recommended a list of vitamin supplements that takes up half a printed page. I already hate the taste of the folic acid supplement with a passion. It really fucking lingers. I came for the first time this pregnancy this morning, rubbing my fast-growing bump and sensitive tits along with my engorged cunt. It was a huge relief to finally climax, even if it was somewhat silly to worry it might not happen for me this pregnancy. I also jerked off Jarred a few hours ago, making sure he shot rope on my bump so I could get my first cum-coating of this pregnancy. I really missed that sexy opalescent glow! Exciting day, hoping to keep up the positivity… MONTH 3 I’m now very, very, very horny. The return to my usual pregnant libido has been a huge relief and joy. I’m feeling like I’m in the middle of my 2nd trimester, maybe 6 months pregnant with a single baby. I’ve got that 2nd trimester energy I’d kill for even when I’m not pregnant. I’m channeling it into fucking myself and Jarred frequently and thoroughly. Still, I’ve got sexual energy to spare, and my eye is roving. I get online for some research, hoping to find a pick-up spot that’s a little seedier than the Motherhood men’s section. I’m feeling like a dirty girl. The spot doesn’t have to have preggos, necessarily. Or men. Or ladies. Whatever horny and consenting adults I can find out there, I will go to. And we will cum. I’m mostly searching for folks on a seedy web site that seems to be trying to fill the void left by the retirement of CraigsList’s “Casual Encounters” section. There are multiple posts about the same second run movie theater a few towns over, and they all refer to meeting up at a Thursday matinee. The shithole theatre only has the one screen and one matinee per day, so I head there for a 1:30 screening the next Thursday. The guy selling tickets tells me not to “worry about a thing,” then nods knowingly and throws in a wink. He seems to know what goes on in there, and is trying to signal that it’s safe to participate. I wonder why he singled me out for this information, then look down. I’m wearing a tube top that can barely contain my growing bosom and leaves nothing to the imagination belly-wise with a mini skirt that reveals my lack of panties with every step I take. I’ve not been subtle, and the employee has followed suit. I wonder if he turns people who don’t look horny away, so as not to shock them with what’s going on inside. Whether he performs this service or not, every one of the limited clientele inside turns out to be very much in on the sexual scene. I slowly walk up and down the aisle before choosing a seat. I see three exposed cocks being stroked by men sitting alone, a man and woman making out while she jerks him off, and two other solo men looking eager as they try to make eye contact with me. No other pregnancies in the room, but I’ve already been eye-fucked by four of the five solo guys, and they all seemed to pay particular attention to my protruding, round, bare belly. Pregnancy is not unwelcome here. Having made my decision, I sit down right next to the closer of the two men without his dick out already. I can hardly make out anyone’s features, so I choose him based largely on proximity to where I’m currently standing. Letting my libido take over, I neglect to say a word. I reach down and unbutton and unzip his jeans, slipping my hand in to get his cock out from his underwear. He doesn’t stop me or speak, but does keep his eyes glued to my belly. I spread my legs slowly, and he leans over slightly to get the full view of my pussy. As I still stroke him, he reaches down and gets two fingers in me and one rubbing my clit. I stifle a moan. Everyone in here is being pretty quiet with their activities, and I figure I should follow suit. I cum pretty quickly, and my vaginal muscles contracting around his fingers seems to put him over the edge. I studiously gather his cum as he climaxes, then start rubbing it into my bump. He watches in awe. I’m soon fully coated and shining with opalescence for my next partner. I decide I’m going to blow the next guy before I decide who the next guy is. I figure I’ll mix it up and try a man who’s already exposing himself this time. Sitting down next to one of them, he whispers “I love a good preggo” and starts jerking himself even harder. Seedy is what I wanted, and seedy is what I’m getting. I take his hand and gently but firmly remove it from his cock, then lean over to take him in my mouth. One of his hands rubs up and down my cum-covered belly, the other rests on my fellating head. The fact that he’s stroking the previous man’s load on my belly gets me seriously wet. I decide I’ll make a move on myself if he won’t, and get to rubbing my easily accessible pussy. He watches me rub myself, hardening further in my mouth. As he cums in my mouth, he puts pleasant pressure on my belly with his hand, and I’m quickly cumming myself. I lift my head up, his load filling my mouth entirely, and gently remove his hand from my belly. I lean forward to let the cum/saliva mix drip down onto my bump. I rub it all around my midsection vigorously, but there’s too much between what was on there already and the new load for it to all sink into my skin, and it’s still visibly dripping down my belly as I stand up to find my next mark. I give the other guy who kept it in his pants to this point a try, sitting next to him and whispering “Hello there.” He returns my greeting, looks down at my exposed pussy, and starts fingering me slowly. I lay back, exhausted after the last two dalliances and ready to receive a little without giving. This guy’s got great finger technique, and gets two orgasms out of me in short order. I thank him, asking if he’d be terribly insulted if I left him high and dry. He smiles and says he was grateful for my company, but I owed him nothing. A good note to end on, I stand up and exit the theater. My bare bump was still dripping cum on my walk back to my car. I passed three people and got one perplexed look, one horrified look, and one eye-fuck. MONTH 4 Yesterday, I had my left palm on the left side of my bump feeling a baby move when I felt movement all the way on the right side. Placing my right hand over it, I felt what had to be a second baby moving on the right side. I was thrilled with the dual movements, too far apart to possibly be the same baby. Enjoying this thoroughly, I suddenly felt another distinct movement lower and more centrally located on my belly. I moved my two hands between the three spots, in awe that I was feeling all three babies move at once. An amazing, utterly unique experience. I’m a very lucky woman, and Mother Nature is a constant source of wonder. I’m 3rd trimester big but still feeling 2nd trimester energy. I’m measuring 36 weeks for a single fetus pregnancy, and am just about as big as I got during my first pregnancy. It’s a fantastic mix. I’m enjoying the hell out of my gravid form, and not tiring myself out doing so. Jarred’s enjoying the hell out of it, too, especially as the fat I’m gaining continues to make fill me out in a soft and pleasant way. Fucking me, he grips the new flabbiness just under my belly, on the sides of my torso, and on my ass. He loves the soft fistfuls of flesh he can now collect in new places all over my speedily swelling physique. I love that he loves these changes, and am coming around on them myself. I’m all about that size, after all. I think about the obese man I’d fucked last pregnancy. I thought his flabbiness and softness were incredibly hot. Pretty sure I can find it in myself to appreciate these new fat deposits, especially as they continue to grow and add to my general panty-soaking hugeness. Growing this rapidly, I’m at the closest Motherhood every few weeks for new clothes. I was a medium in their brand for the majority of my first two pregnancies, large in the 8th and 9th months. The mediums worked through month 2 this time, large through month 3. I’ve had to buy XL the past six weeks or so. Each visit I tend to buy the smallest possible items I’ll fit into. Two weeks later, I’m looking in the same size but slightly more relaxed fits. I need to keep the clothes tight at all times to properly rock my bump and other greatly engorged features in public; at home, I rock it all best walking around completely unencumbered by clothing. Last trip to Motherhood, the place is unusually packed. Ten preggos milling around where I usually see two, three max. I have the instinct to check my phone, and it’s 12:15 PM on a Wednesday. I’ve accidentally wandered into the famous and beloved Motherhood men’s section’s Wednesday lunchtime pick-up hour! I’d attended the event once last pregnancy, resulting in an amazing three-some with Fat Man and Torpedo Belly (see my previous journal, Month 7!). Jarred had great luck here during his pregnancies, too. I’ve found myself here unprepared, not sure of exactly what I’m cruising for. Men, women, both? Preggo, not? Unwieldily huge, or gently curvaceous? I have trouble coming to any conclusions, and decide to browse the merchandise and wait to see who might approach me. Wearing jeans and a form-fitting but belly-covering maternity top, I may be the most modestly dressed person in the mix. I hope my fellow preggos don’t think I’m not a slut. I look through the XL tops for something that’ll just barely manage to cover my bump this week. Not having great luck with the clothing, but I am pretty quickly approached by someone. A bearded man wearing a sports bra, khaki shorts, sandals, and nothing else approaches. I find his outfit provocative and confounding in equal measure. I find his smooth, hairless, perfectly round bump irresistible. His belly has clearly dropped to a low position just above his crotch, suggesting he’s at least approaching full-term. “Hey,” is his weak opener. “I love your bump,” I tell him as I place my hands on either side of it. I press in on his delightful firmness on both sides, then on top. Finally the bottom, and I’m precariously close to his crotch. The signals I’m putting out aren’t subtle, in other words. His eyes widen in surprise at my directness, but his face quickly softens into a smile. “Yours isn’t so bad, either,” he improves slightly. He places one hand on the center of my bump, massaging gently in tight circles. His tits are nice and bloated with milk, the erection showing through his shorts is substantial, and I’m even more enamored of his bump now that I’ve felt its firmness. He’ll do, at least in part. I ask if he likes to play in bigger groups, and he smiles and gestures toward a woman quietly browsing the next rack over. “She’s already with me,” he informs me, signaling for her to come over. I give her a thorough visual scan, and I am pretty damned into everything she’s got going on. She’s wearing a black cocktail dress and black fuck-me pumps, easily the fanciest get-up in the place. Her tits are modest but perky, belly slight in comparison to mine but perfectly curvy. It’s a delectable teardrop stretching in increasing protrusion from just below her tits to an inch above her mons pubis. She’s probably 6 months, 7 if the babies in her gene pool run small. Definitely hasn’t dropped yet. It’s been a while since I’ve been with a preggo who wasn’t packing serious belly volume, and her relative modesty gets my juices flowing. Maybe it’s just the thrill of adding a little variety to the mix, or maybe it’s the fact that the bump’s shape is without imperfection. The shape, probably. I’m going to need to see it bare, and I inform her of this right off the bat. She’s into it, and tells me my “gravid gut” is really getting her wet. I love her use of “gravid,” a word I can’t get enough of, and I LOVE her almost crass bluntness about the state of her pussy. I’m definitely going home with Sports Bra and Tear Drop. We’re at her place in 10 minutes, all three of us fully nude in her bedroom in 12. Her bump is even more striking unclothed, the perfectly rounded and stretch mark-free area under her navel an absolute delight. I take it in both my hands, luxuriating in its density and heft. She turns her back to me for a moment to start something up with Sports Bra, and I marvel at her posterior. More striking than the bump, even, was her sublime ass. I’m very much a belly person over an ass or any other body part, but I couldn’t deny what I was seeing. It’d probably qualify as a “bubble butt.” Google it if that doesn’t provoke a mental image. It’s not oversized in that Kardashian way, either; it looks very much in proportion to the rest of her curvy frame. She’s taken Sports Bra’s dick in one hand and left tit in the other while he’s massaging the same parts on her. I start rubbing and squeezing her ass, eventually spreading her cheeks gently for asshole access. Again, not in my usual sexual repertoire to put this much attention into an ass, but I’m helpless gazing at its smooth, blemish-free cheeks. I tease the edges of her anus with two fingers, eventually working up the nerve to stick the tip of my index finger a centimeter inside. She shudders slightly, and not in a way that suggests pleasure. While she doesn’t directly ask me to stop playing around back there, her body’s given me the notice. I hope things don’t turn awkward for us, as I’m not nearly through with Tear Drop’s bump. If things seem to be getting uncomfortable after the asshole thing, I’ll just apologize and try to kick-start things back into motion. Luckily, this doesn’t prove necessary. Tear Drop gets to her knees and takes Sports Bra in her mouth. I get behind him, forcefully pressing my gut into his back so I can reach around to his tits and bump. He moans as I start squeezing and rubbing, respectively. I continue throughout the blowjob, and once his moans start screaming “imminent orgasm,” I tap Tear Drop on the head, she disengages, and I step in and kneel down to finish him off with my vacuum of a fellatio technique, making sure to retain every drop of his seed in my mouth. Wordlessly so as not to spill any semen from my lips, I manage to arrange both partners into positions laying on their backs on the bed. I go to Tear Drop first, beginning to lick her bump so that my slightly opened mouth slowly dribbled cum across her abdomen as I moved around it. She was watching my perversion and moaning quietly. Her entire belly was coated in slick saliva and cum in a minute or two, and it glistened beautifully. I move to get my mouth on her right tit, betting based on the look of her rack that her milk had started to come in. I’m right, and I have a mouthful in seconds. I let it drip from my lips onto Sports Bra’s bump from a foot above him, and he starts rubbing it in himself, massaging it down to his cock and beginning to stroke himself while squeezing my right tit. I start rubbing both wet bellies, each with one hand, frequently switching which hand is on which belly, and eventually adding my own bump to the rotation. Now, all of us are shining with a mix of my saliva, his cum, and her milk. I lay on my back next to them now and rub one out, fueled by the dirty-hot mess I’ve created. MONTH 5 Halfway through this pregnancy, and measuring equal to a single fetus gestation at 42 weeks. I’m substantially bigger than I’ve ever been, and I’m still loving it. Horny as hell all the time, basking in my gravidness. The only thing stopping me from continually going full tilt on my cunt, Jarred’s cock, and a hundred strangers’ entire bodies is the fact that I get winded from standing up too quickly, never mind vigorous sexual activity. Libidinous activities trump the quotidian by a mile. I’ve sworn off the second floor of our house, imagining the energy I’ve saved staying off the stairs fueling my intense sessions of riding Jarred’s dick. I’m so quickly out of breath due to carrying this ridiculous amount of extra weight around with me at every moment of every day. 48 pounds gained as of yesterday. My belly’s so heavy I’m carrying it around the house in both arms 80% of the time to keep the weight off my back and hold my constant lumbar and leg pain at bay. This leads to arm pain, of course, though my upper arm strength has increased substantially with all the belly lugging. I’m complaining, yes, but I’m also getting myself wet. I’ve had no complications, and the doctor sees none on the horizon. Smooth sailing, my and the babies’ safety-wise. So nothing to really worry about, just highly exaggerated pregnancy symptoms. Which were hot to me at their milder levels. There’s more discomfort and unpleasantness with the triplets, sure, but more titillation in reveling in every hyperbolic aspect of the pregnant experience, too. I’m still loving it all, including complaining. I can just about complain myself to completion at this point. Dr. Lucas told me a few weeks ago that I should start doing posture practice, getting used to keeping my back straight before my engorged belly bends my back irrevocably. I do the exercises every morning, but have felt no results. Maybe it’ll pay off, though such a mild solution doesn’t seem to be up to the damage this mammoth and still growing bump is sure to do to many parts of my body. The doctor also mentioned yoga and swimming as helpful options, the former for flexibility and exercise, the latter for allowing you to escape feeling gravity’s inexorable pull on your massive body every goddamn second of every goddamn day. I’ll get to swimming eventually, I think, but I decide I should give yoga a shot before my body gets any more cumbersome. I’ve probably waited too long and become too cumbersome already, honestly, but I’m going to give it a try anyway. Google finds me a listing for a prenatal yoga group at the nearby YMCA. I check it out the next Friday, and I consider it a success the moment I look into the room. There are already six pregnant women and three pregnant men in attendance, and every one is wearing stereotypical yoga attire: sports bra and leggings, basically. Nine bellies completely bare, a visual buffet. I’m wearing the same outfit as them, but I’m turning heads before I’ve even removed my loose sweatshirt. I’m colossal in comparison to my fellow preggos, dwarfing them all. The second biggest in the room is barely half my size. I find a spot for my yoga mat and spread it on the ground. I proceed to remove my sweatshirt and guarantee every eye in the room is on my extensively stretch marked, nearly busting out of my skin pot belly. Based on my gigantism compared to the rest of these folks, I am here too late in my pregnancy. Guaranteed. Nonetheless, I’m staying and giving it a shot, if only to stay in the presence of all these bumps. Two more women and another man have entered by the time the also pregnant instructor starts the class, bringing the total number of completely exposed bellies in the room to 13, not including my own. That’s an environment one doesn’t rush away from. I’ll be here for the duration, if only for today, and I will strike up as many post-class conversations as are necessary to rub all 13 of the other bumps in the room. [Side note: If you’re having trouble picturing any of the yoga positions I’m about to describe, I’m sorry for my poor writing. There’s an easy fix, though: do a quick Google image search for “prenatal yoga positions.” Educate yourself, rub one out, whatever. They’re good pictures, you should check them out. Or pictures of nude pregnant people, doing whatever. Especially sucking a nice dick. Christ, has this side note gotten away from me! Curse this pregnant brain. And curse the hormones turning every other thought I have into something sexual. To summarize, the pictures of prenatal yoga positions are easy to find, naked pregnant bodies are sexy as fuck, jerking off is a lot of fun. Sorry, I’ll just continue with the story now. Forget this happened, please.] The class begins, and we’re all supposed to sit in the lotus position. Legs crossed, in other words. I have to lift my gravid belly with both hands (every eye on me again) in order to move my swollen legs close enough to me to cross them. I’m already winded. I lower my belly back down onto my legs and it spills gracelessly over them and onto the floor beyond. Next, the instructor demonstrates downward facing dog for us. It seems too advanced for me, and it’s just how they warm up here. It consists of making yourself into an equilateral triangle with your ass as the apex, basically. My belly didn’t fit neatly into the apex’s acute angle, catching itself on my knees before I can straighten into the pyramid every one of my classmates is successfully making. I plop down on my ass, in failure but still loving the many views on display. Failure never looked this good. Cat pose has everyone on their hands and knees, bringing their head from tucked into their chest to lifted above their shoulders. I can actually do this one! My belly rests on the floor when I do, though, and occupies every bit of space between my arms and thighs. I don’t see any other bellies even brush the ground, but this time this makes me proud of my more substantial bump, slightly pitying their manageable, cute but not as drop dead sexy as mine bellies. Fuck your modest forms: my massive physique can do cat pose, too, bitches. Garland pose came next and was…deflating. It amounts to squatting with your ass nearly touching the floor, elbows against your knees, hands in a position of prayer in front of you. The other bellies sort of rested in the crotch area in precious little orbs, hardly pulled forward by gravity at all. Mine was not only pulled down my gravity, but it pulled my entire body down with it. I started to land right on my belly as I tipped forward, quickly pivoting to land on my side so the bump doesn’t have too much of my weight put on it. My display is enough for the instructor to ask if I was okay, and if I needed help or anything else. I laughed it off and really was physically fine, but my ego was certainly bruised. My ungainliness and poor balance would’ve been arousing to me if I were on my own or with Jarred, but they inspired pity in these strangers, and I did not get off on pity. At all. Participation-wise, I am done. I’m calling it right here. I sit down on my mat with my arms holding me up from behind, legs splayed out in front of me. My belly rests on the floor in between my legs, stretching to just shy of my knees. I won’t be trying any more yoga positions today, but I will continue staring at the bare preggo bellies that surround me. They’ll write off my sitting as a function of pregnant fatigue, not voyeurism. They wouldn’t be wrong about the fatigue, though that makes me no less of a pervert and belly fiend. I get sustained looks at every bump in turn, methodically moving from one preggo to the next. I make my observations, storing an assload of mental images in my brain’s database of bumps, which I maintain mainly for masturbatory purposes in internet-bereft situations. Two of the men have hairless bumps, two hirsute. Three of the 13 bellies have popped outie belly buttons, three have belly buttons flush with the rest of their bellies, the other seven still have innies. Five of the 13 pairs of breasts look as if their milk had started to come in. Only three of the 13 bumps had any visible stretch marks. I count three tear drops, four basketballs, two torpedos, four bellies too modest to be classifiable at this time. 13 of the 13 bumps are demanding jizz massages from me, but I will settle for some vanilla rubbing if I can make it happen. The class wraps up after another half dozen poses. A few folks leave right away, but most stay and chat in small huddled groups. I approach one of these groups, awkwardly discovering that I have to stand facing away from them in order for my belly not to invade their personal space. The small groups aren’t for me, considering the spatial relationship of my mega-gut to the other preggos around me. I approach the instructor, who isn’t speaking with anyone at the moment. She admires my effort and lets me know she’s never had a student as big as me. Could be taken as an insult, but I like having a record breaking bump, so I take it as a compliment. Catching her repeated glances at my midsection, I ask if she’d like to “rub the biggest bump ever to grace [her] class.” She laughs and massages it gently with both hands, one on either side. I’m easily able to get reciprocated belly access, and I rub her cute 6 month belly for a few moments, marveling at its utter lack of any blemish or roughness. I compliment her skin care routine, which she immediately proceeds to describe to me at length. As if looking at my belly could make her think there was any hope for my belly’s skin whatsoever. I talk up a guy standing on his own, too. His belly and personality are both unremarkable. I rub his bump only because I’d feel rude if I didn’t after he’s asked to rub mine. I’m feeling cranky and slightly misanthropic, so I decide to call it a day and head home. Entering the house, I strip down to nothing instantly, lugging my protuberant abdomen to the couch, the bump obscuring the entirety of my thighs from vision when I sit. I yell “Jarred! Come eat me out!” as loudly as I can. His mouth is on my crotch 30 seconds later. I don’t move a muscle, leaving him to spread my legs and lift my drooping belly up for pubic access. As he performed cunnilingus, the whole of my belly rested on his head. I wasn’t about to hold it up out of his way. I don’t know how he kept his neck straight, but he did so for long enough to get me off twice. I had put too much effort into stupid orgasm-free yoga, and I’d damn well earned a few lazy climaxes. MONTH 6 There are no longer any measurements from singleton pregnancies to which I can compare my current size. No one’s ever gotten this big with a single child, it would seem, and that gets me a little wet thinking about my current state and a little terrified thinking about what’s to come in the entire trimester remaining. The bump’s bigger and bigger in every possible measurement you can imagine. Everything. Sheer size. Density. Weight. Everything is skyrocketing. Not just in the bump, either. Dr. Lucas told me at the beginning that a healthy triplet pregnancy for someone at my pre-pregnancy weight should involve gaining 37-54 pounds. I’ve already gained 62, and I’d have to say I’m looking fat. I don’t mind it, or use the term derogatorily. I’m just fat. I’m still hot, and my body’s still the most pronounced at its awesomest places. But, I am legitimately fat. It just fits. Rolls are popping up everywhere, and I’m just generally soft and jiggly. Jarred is in absolute heaven. Pregnant BBWs are just about his favorite people in the world, and that’s just from having jerked off to videos of them for most his life. Having a real life BBW preggo desperate for his cock 24/7 brings an absurd level of horniness for him. Outside of his many refractory periods, I haven’t seen him sans erection for three days now. He’s just walking around with boners, all of the time. Bottomless when he can, but frequently with his dick visibly pushing against his pants. I let him get off using my body however he likes and as often as he likes, so long as he asks no effort of me whatsoever. He takes me up on this standing offer pretty much hourly. Still, constant erections, even when I’m not in the room to visually spur him on. Seriously, this is heaven for the skinny fucker. My best friend Rachel is almost exactly as pregnant as i am, weeks-wise. She was 6 months along with a single baby, her third. She asks if she can come over for a visit, and when she arrives I feel like she’s not even showing yet. She is a perfectly normal and healthy size for her situation, but my colossus of a gut makes for some pretty stark comparisons. We sit down and chat, prodding and massaging each other’s bumps occasionally. She’d have to put in effort not to touch my absurdly space consuming belly, while I can just barely lean over far enough against my bump to touch hers. Eventually, she steers the conversation toward our respective sex lives, an arena we’ve pretty much never discussed, despite our closeness. I sense a hidden agenda, and I wish to nurture it to completion. She dances around the issue. We talk about how she’s more interested in her husband these days than he is in her. How Jarred actually quite likes me pregnant (I put it mildly). That we both enjoy our changing bodies and find the whole experience of pregnancy sort of magical. It doesn’t seem like she’s actually going to pull the trigger on her own, so I do it for her. “You want to fool around with me, don’t you?” Ten seconds of silence, Rachel’s eyes averted and her face reddened. She finally looks up. “Sort of,” she says quietly. “I don’t know, I’ve been really horny, and I was thinking about the time you had me over to fuck Jarred when he was pregnant, and I knew you were pretty into it, and we had said it would be too weird if we did anything with each other…but now I really want to. We can say it’s just a thing we do when we’re simultaneously pregnant, and today can be the end of it if you want? But…yeah. I really was hoping somewhere in the back of my mind that we might get each other off today. And I brought something for us to play with, too, if you want.” She grabs her purse and pats it, indicating a toy’s presence. I smile once she finishes her terrifically awkward spiel. “You’re on,” I purr, immediately undoing my own erotic tone by awkwardly pulling myself up to my feet and almost toppling forward from the momentum my heft produced. Rachel quickly stands up, grabbing my thighs to steady me. We laugh at my awkwardness, leveling the playing field some, it feels like. I take her hand and lead her to the bedroom, her purse ending up in the corner chair. We sit on the bed, and I remove my t-shirt, keeping my sports bra and sweatpants on. “Now you,” i whisper, and she removes her top to reveal a beautifully ornate lavender push up bra. She’s come dressed to impress. Her cleavage is ample and milky white, her breasts partially lined with the faintest of stretch marks. She stares at my rack, too. I reach behind her and unclasp her bra, and her tits fall five inches, directly onto the top of her belly. Now I’m wet. I rip my sports bra off, my saggy breasts dropping a third of the way down the sides of my gargantuan bump. We play with each other’s tits and bumps in giddy silence for a few minutes, until Rachel suddenly slides her hand down to my crotch. Ante successfully upped, we are fully nude in seconds, and I’ve managed to get into position to eat her out. She’s extremely well lubricated down there, and her clit is apparently on the sensitive side. I get her off three times in two minutes. I say “Let’s switch it up!” playfully, and she suddenly looks nervous. “I’ve never…” She’s never performed cunnilingus. Of course. She’s generally very vanilla in her sex life, I’d almost forgotten. I believe she’s made out with another woman before, but almost certainly nothing past second base. I tell her to relax, take her time, and to do to me the things she liked me to do to her. She’d be mad at herself later if she didn’t take me up on this unique opportunity, I inform her. I’m dripping wet and need the release. She finally does go down on me, and she fumbles around down there for a few minutes before I fake an orgasm. It takes an extraordinary lack of talent to not get me to cum when I’m already this turned on and you spend that long working for it. I don’t want her to feel bad, but i rub one out real quickly before she’s off her knees. The pent up energy just needed to be released. Apparently not minding my quick solo jerk, she goes to her purse and takes out a harness and a dildo. Strap-on preggo-on-preggo sex!!! I love it. She sees my happily widened eyes and doesn’t bother asking if I’m interested or not, just starts to strap herself in and attach the dildo at her crotch. She’s hot as fuck; cutely pregnant, nude and sporting a 7” ink black cock. I take my position on my hands and knees on the bed, belly resting on the comforter below me. Her fucking technique is unsubtle but effective, and she gets me off twice with her hard, arhythmic pumping. We’re both pregnant-fatigued after a few minutes, and we quietly re-dress ourselves. Back on the couch in the living room, we discuss strollers and breastfeeding. The dildo fucking in the bedroom never comes up again. MONTH 7 I’m now comparable in gut size to someone carrying twins at full-term. I think back to the hook-up with The Cock during my second pregnancy. He was at 8 months with twins, basically full-term. I could hardly comprehend the scope of his bump, but I believe I have now surpassed its immensity. Most triplet pregnancies end just a brief period from now, at about 32 weeks. Somehow, I know I’m not going to get off that easy. I’lll somehow manage to make it to 40 weeks, if only to get a glimpse of exactly how far my abdominal skin can stretch. Anyway, the bag for the hospital is packed and ready just in case, and I’ve made some mental notes on how far apart my occasional contractions are. Nothing whatsoever to indicate an imminent labor. I’d take my bump dropping as a sign of things to shortly come, but I honestly can’t tell whether I’ve dropped or gravity has just continued to drag my belly inexorably down, as it will certainly do. The weight gain can only confuse the matter, adding additional and confounding shapes to my abdominal and pubic regions. I’m at a whopping 74 pounds of weight gain as of this morning. I’m getting sweaty as fuck with all the heft I’m carrying, and more winded than ever. I get hot flashes numerous times daily. Yes, Jarred still loves it entirely and without reservation. Should go without saying, he’s not getting sick of my growth at all. My second full-time job at the moment, in addition to getting myself off, is urinating. This symptom has gotten seriously irritating, and ceased to be hot to me when I noticed I’d gone three times in one hour. That was weeks ago. I might as well not leave the bathroom at this point. That thought and my constant sweating gave me a new idea that would take care of both issues. I’d put out the kiddie pool in the backyard, fill it with cold water, and lay in it nude for hours, pissing where I lay whenever the urge hit. If I had to sit in some of my very diluted urine for a while, so be it. A shower would wash it right off. I set up the pool in the backyard, take off my shirt and skirt, and get in, carefully holding my bump as I lower myself in. I can’t actually lay down, it turns out. I’m just too big in too many different directions. I manage to sit cross-legged, surprising myself at the maneuver and filling half the pool with my bump resting on the bottom. My hands go to my crotch, my tits, my unavoidable belly, back to my crotch…repeat as desired. I pee whenever I get the urge, which becomes second nature almost instantly. I’m so much comfortable in the cool water, I couldn’t care less about my urine mixing with it. I close my eyes, continuing to rub myself. I enjoy the lack of visual stimuli for the duration of my belly rub, then open my eyes. Our neighbor, Greg, has his head sticking over the fence separating our yards, and he’s gawking with jaw fully dropped. I freeze as our eyes connect. His head drops out of view. “Greg, get over here!” I yell. He sheepishly pops his head back up. “No, come around to this side,” I command. He’s seen what’s to be seen, and he’s going to have to pay a bit of a price for it. Walking over, he’s shaking his head in awe, staring unblinkingly at the mass of flab and drooping medicine-ball sized orb I had in the pool with me. “You’re so big,” he mutters. I tell him to sit down next to the pool. I take his right hand in mine, moving my belly out of our way with my left as I put his palm directly on my vulva. “Back and forth motions, come on,” I growl, aggravated when he doesn’t immediately start caressing. He gets going, and he’s not bad at it. He gets me off, and I throw my head back, eyes closed and dead to the world for a full minute. He tells me he’s been watching me balloon up, catching glimpses of me in the window frequently, and frequently nude glimpses at that. Comparisons are made between this pregnancy and my last two. Apparently, he’s been watching all these years. Probably watched Jarred’s two pregnancies before mine, too. I feel violated, and start to get wet again just as Greg stands up. He leaves, begging me not to tell his wife. What the fuck does his wife have to do with anything? A pregnant woman was in need, and he assisted her. True story. MONTH 8 I’ve gained 89 pounds now and surpassed the average size for a full-term triplet gestation, and every aspect of every symptom and sign of this pregnancy has progressed extensively since last month. Things are hard and getting ever harder. Enough said on the matter. My sweet, sweet Jarred managed to rig up a fancy walker for my usage. He positioned the flat surface (on which old people and the infirm usually sit to rest) to be at a height that allows me to rest my belly on it. It takes a solid 75% of the burden of my bump weight off me, and I’m ever so grateful. I cart my gut around the house, glad I don’t have to contend with the stairs. I’ve even used it out in public a few times to snickers, laughs, and confused queries. I don’t care what the responses are at this point, I desperately need the relief. It’s not particularly sexy to me, but it does still turn Jarred on that I’m so cumbersome I need this sort of assistance to perambulate. Feeling a bit more energetic a few days ago, I finally decided to check out the prenatal swimming group at the Y. It was meeting just a few hours after I looked it up, so I rushed to pack my extraordinarily stretchy 4X one-piece bathing suit and some other odds and ends, and I headed over. I pulled into the parking lot already 5 minutes late to the group. You have to pass through the locker room to get to the pool, and as soon as I smelled that classic locker room smell something clicked in my mind and I realized my blunder; I hadn’t worn my bathing suit under my other clothes. I would have to get fully nude, exposing my extravagant size for anyone to see, then squeeze my various parts into the one-piece with what was guaranteed to be a great deal of effort. Being late already stressed me out in regards to how long that process would take, but the fact that the rest of the class was probably already in the pool was a relief spectation-wise. There was only one other woman in the locker room, though she did stare at me from the moment I disrobed to the moment I exited to the pool. I nodded to her and shrugged at one point, my awkward situation and her quiet complicity acknowledged. After getting naked, I wiggled myself into the swimsuit’s leg holes centimeter by centimeter, then unceremoniously shoved my flabby torso into the center of the suit handful by fatty handful. I somehow tugged it up past my tits and managed to bend my arms in strange enough angles to get into the one-piece completely. What an incredible fabric I was dealing with! i could hardly believe it didn’t burst once I finally exhaled. My entrance to the pool area drew every eye, which I’m quite inured to at this point. There were an instructor and four pregnant women, all treading water and staring at me. I could see some decent cleavage above the surface, but I’d have to wait for the group to end to get some belly glimpses, really see what we were working with here. Dr. Lucas was absolutely right about swimming and pregnancy: it’s a great combo, and I wish I had utilized it earlier. In this pregnancy, or even in my earlier, more modest pregnancies. I feel a flood of gratitude for the buoyancy keeping my weight afloat as soon as I fully enter the water. It’s an amazing feeling when you’ve been so quickly and thoroughly weighed down for 8 months. I stay towards the shallow end, not having the endurance to tread water for long and wanting some steady ground near my feet. I can still hear all the instructions for the different stretches and strokes we’re meant to try, and I play along as best I can. Really, though, I’m just digging the buoyancy. If it weren’t for the bump-related opportunities I foresaw, I would have stayed in that pool for hours. Instead, I got out with the rest of the group when we were finished with the hour. There were four pregnant women headed into the locker room, and I just couldn’t pass up whatever might happen if I threw myself into the mix with them. I wait for them to exit the pool before I do, sizing up their bumps. One young blonde is hardly even showing, 5 months along. Not worth my time. A 40-ish brunette has a belly that’s clearly seen a decent number of pregnancies, marked intensively with angry red stretch marks but only reading as 6 or 7 months into this pregnancy. Way too early for that many battle scars from this baby. The stretch marks put me off on this particular day, and I turn my eyes to the next preggo. She’s a petite brunette well into her third trimester, dropped bump and all. It looks smooth and firm, the skin not quite taut just yet. I want to touch her very much. Finally, a 30-something redhead with a torpedo belly just starting to protrude, 6 months along if I had to guess. I’m not particularly taken with her. My thoughts are of the petite brunette when I enter the locker room, and I’m relieved and excited to see that her locker is only five or six away from mine. We’ll basically be changing next to each other. She’s even the only one of the four in the area at the moment, as the other three had hit the showers prior to changing. So, no one’s close enough to hear or clearly see what we’re doing, a concern if I get particularly lucky/naughty. She’s fully nude by the time I start trying to take my suit off. Her tits are great, milk-filled and dark-nippled. Her pubic hair is very well tended for someone as far along as she is. I don’t quite have the nerve to say anything to her as she’s standing nude in front of me while I’m still clothed, let alone ask the burning question of whether I could touch her bump. I’m trying to get one arm out of the suit still, and absolutely nothing is budging. I finally have something to break the ice with the young lady next to me, and I really have no choice but to do so: I’m stuck in my bathing suit, and I require assistance. She thinks I’m making a joke at first, laughing rather than offering help when I tell her I’m stuck in my swimsuit. She quickly sees the worry on my face, profusely apologizes and tells me to give her just a second to get dressed. I watch her dress, her rush distracting her from my intrusive eyes. Boobs are put in a bra, a bump has a shirt pulled down over it…it’s all pretty nice to watch. I sit down on a bench as she pulls on her sandals and hustles to the front desk to ask for some scissors. The plan is to cut me out, which makes me a little nervous given all my flabbiness and general body volume. When she returns and makes the careful, tiny initial cut into an edge of the fabric between my breasts. The swimsuit immediately crumbles around me, deflating like a popped balloon in an instant, the only fabric left on my person right around the leg holes. So, she instantaneously gets the full bump show, standing right in front of me and having it literally spill right onto her. She laughs when my dropping and highly protruding belly hits her in the tits and pushes her whole body back six inches. “Whoa!” she exclaims, marveling openly at the mass of my torso. “You’re belly is AMAZING,” she half shouts. “Can I touch - I’m sorry, I should let you get dressed!” I shake my head. “At this point, why bother? In fact, can you get right in there and pull this thing off my legs?” She giggles happily as she gets her head level to my hairy pubic mound and pulls the swimsuit the rest of the way off me, a task necessitating considerable force. She stands back up. “So it’s okay for me to touch your belly?” I gesture to the entirety of my body, welcoming her to whatever she might choose to touch. “I’d love if I could get a rub in on your bump, too, if you don’t mind.” She nods, and gets back to my belly. She takes as much as she can grip from the base of the bump in both hands and lifts up with about as much might as she has. She can lift it, but only three or four inches. “My goodness,” she says, “I’ve never seen or heard of such a belly!” I explain the triplets situation, which makes her look horrified for a second, surely thinking of caring for three infants simultaneously. “It’s a surrogacy, I won’t have to deal with the kids,” I explain, and she nods, impressed at my gig. Massively impressive bump, paid gig, no pursuant childcare. It is pretty sweet, I agree with her. She gets her hands over every inch of my body between my tits and bush, even rubbing those more private areas a few times accidentally. A very polite woman, apparently: I never once catch her staring at my tits or cunt. She’s in it for the belly, and it’s refreshing. When she’s finished, she hikes her tank top up to the bottom of her breasts and exposes the entirety of her gorgeous, wonderfully modest 8 month singleton bump. It’s feels even firmer than it looks, and the smoothness verging on tautness is a serious turn-on. The shape is almost perfectly globular, a real basketball belly, though you definitely see some protrusion from her sides when you looked at the back of her. Clearly pregnant, front and back, at this point in her final trimester. I thank her for letting me rub her, and for rubbing me so nicely. It was a nice, platonic encounter, with just enough sexiness to keep me slightly stirred. She asks if I’ll be back to the group next week, and I tell her I don’t think I’ll fit in the damn pool by then. MONTH 9 I am fucking done. I’ve just had it, pregnancy-wise. My mind is made up; a few months after I have these babies, Dr. Lucas will be removing my uterus. Done, done, done. This pregnancy seems like it’s as far as my body can be pushed, so there’s not a particular aim I’d have in going for another pregnancy. I enjoyed the goal and reality of getting bigger and bigger each pregnancy, but I’ve definitely exhausted it. And my body is beaten to hell from this thing. So many sore, swollen, misshapen, swollen, discolored, swollen body parts. It would probably take me three years to recover from this one. I am no longer a young woman. I think I’d fall into a “mature preggo” porn search at this point. That’s probably how I’d classify Jarred’s and my sexy videos if I ever decided to share them on PornHub or wherever. More precisely, any of the videos we might post would probably come up with a “mature pregnant brunette BJ cum shot belly” search. We have a very particular set of moves we both find attractive on playback. Who knows, maybe someday we’ll want to relive some of our pregnant heyday vicariously through anonymous viewers. It’s sounding pretty hot to me at the moment, actually. I guess I’ll talk to Jarred! Enough about our homemade porn. I’ve gained 105 pounds as of my final weigh-in at Dr. Lucas’ clinic, bringing my weight to a solid 248 pounds. The number embarrasses me, but my body no longer does. And Jarred’s enthusiasm for every ounce of me helps my self-esteem immeasurably. The doc put me on bed rest three weeks ago, and Jarred’s attention to my every need has been more than commendable. I’m still horny a few times a day, and he dutifully gets me off without my expending any of my preciously limited energy. We haven’t fucked, penis-in-vagina, for close to a month. My form simply doesn’t allow for it. Jarred is an innovator when it comes to ways to access my cunt with his hands and mouth, though, and it’s more than adequate. He moves my fat and bulges around with confident ease, ducking under my gut to eat me out, lifting it with one hand to wedge his hand into my crotch. Lots of great ideas from that guy, and so many selfless orgasms he’s given me. It’s sad having lost most of my libido again, but it was inevitable this run. I’m too big for almost every imaginable activity, and my body is doing a million terrible things at once. Not exactly Fuck City at this point in a triplet pregnancy. And with that, I think I’ll close this chapter of the journal, and this chapter of my procreational life. I’m 38 weeks tomorrow, and typing this has taken a great deal of exertion. I can’t imagine I’ll be able to write again prior to delivery. It’s been great overall, even when it hasn’t. Thanks for sticking with me once again! EPILOGUE I made it to 39 weeks and 1 day before delivering. The previous record for a triplet pregnancy was 36 weeks and 3 days. I’m a fucking world record holder now! Smashed that record by almost three weeks! Badass. The birth went smoothly, vaginal as I had hoped and relatively quick, considering I had to deliver three separate babies. I had orgasmic labor without even touching myself! I came a lot in previous deliveries, too, but always between contractions and via rubbing my cunt. This time, hands were not on pussy; I came as a baby was crowning and I was surrounded by nurses and doctors. I’m pretty sure the orgasm moaning mixed in with the pain moaning well enough to hide my climax from all but the most discerning ears. The pushing actually got easier with each baby, probably due to the serious stretching (and shredding…) of my pussy the previous baby had done. They’re big like their parents, too, weighing 7 lbs. 9 oz., 7 lbs. 13 oz., and 8 lbs. even at birth. Their lovely parents, the Danburys, were present for the birth, of course. They’re sticking around for a few weeks until they feel relatively comfortable taking a flight with a newborn. That’s it for me, folks, unless something else in my life comes around that’s magical enough to inspire me to write another such journal. Kinda doubtful. I think my pregnancies are probably going to end up being the high points of my life, which is more than okay with me. I’ll treasure the memories forever, and the photos and videos for even longer. I’m already booked for the uterus removal, but Jarred’s is still in place with no immediate plans for its extraction. So who knows, maybe our family isn’t done with pregnancy altogether. Jarred’s one pregnancy-addicted motherfucker, too. I lost close to 40 pounds in delivery, and am currently at 204 pounds. Definitely still BBW, and Jarred is still very happy about that, even without the pregnancy aspect. I wouldn’t put another pregnancy past him for a moment, though. And if not, other bumps abound, and we can both always get a pregnancy fix in the men’s section of Motherhood at noon on any given Wednesday. Wednesday’s tomorrow. My pussy’s not ready for business yet, of course. My mouth and hands, though…And all that cum…
You have seriously written one of the best stories I’ve ever read on here! Great job with these!
The Horny Sea Horse VI - Jarred's To-Do List
I’m pregnant again! This is Jarred, by the way. Five months into this surrogacy gestation, and already curvy with that pregnancy fat and modest bump! In picking parents for whom I’d carry a child, I went for the largest couple I could find; I may not have full control over it, but I’d very much like for this to be my largest pregnancy. Annie and I are both extremely happy (or, horny) to have a pregnant body around for a few months that we can both play with; the silicone bellies can go back into the closet for the time being. I’ll be 43 years old in three months, and while there’s no real biological clock to speak of in the realm of men’s fake uteri, there is the unavoidable fact that we have less energy as we age. And I want as much energy during pregnancy as I can possibly muster…you know, for sex stuff. I’ve also been rather jealous the past couple years of some of what Annie experienced in her last pregnancy. Not the triplet thing!!! I saw enough of a multiples pregnancy, and as insanely hot as full-term with triplets BBW Annie was, her experience getting that huge was not one I particularly care to replicate. No, it’s more of the social aspects she managed to put a bit of time into last pregnancy. Namely, her prenatal yoga and prenatal swimming classes. In my case, though, I plan to do both things while my body can handle them, as I don’t wish to fall on my face attempting simple yoga postures or require scissors to get out of my swimsuit (see Annie’s second solo journal: that shit actually happened to her!). There are a handful of other experiences, too, that I’ll allow to stay surprises until their chapters come to pass throughout the journal. I’ll be going in roughly chronological order through this pregnancy, with the individual chapters focused on particular experiences. I hope you like reading about my adventures even 1% as much as I liked having them; I’m guessing that 1% could still get you off pretty thoroughly… 5 1/2 Months: The Expecting Expo A pregnancy-themed event takes place at our county’s convention center each year, with the clever name “The Expecting Expo.” My first two pregnancies, male gestation was still new enough to turn some heads, and I didn’t feel like enduring the kind of scrutiny this sort of event might put me through. In my third pregnancy, I believe the timing was off, and I didn’t feel like attending the expo well before I was showing. This time, though, Expecting Expo falls perfectly 5 1/2 months into my pregnancy, just when I’m very apparently showing and can still move around a convention center with relatively few fatigue breaks or worries that my bump may knock any display cases over. I was fucking in, as this had definitely been on my wish list of maternity activities. I’ve got a tight, pre-pregnancy red top on with no bra. It should show off my tits and belly pretty well, just as my short jeans will show off my ass. I’d hate for anyone here to think I wasn’t at least a little bit slutty. The convention center is more or less packed to capacity with people who are almost all pregnant. 80% women, 20% men, if I had to guess. All shapes and sizes one could imagine. Based on outfits, some people were there with the most chaste of motivations, while others were definitely cruising for some dick and/or pussy. Just about every motivation in between these two poles was represented here, too. As a surrogate, much of what’s on display at the expo isn’t particularly relevant to me. Strollers, cribs, video baby monitors: the latest in everything I’m not going to need. Finally, deep into the Maternity Wear section, some ornate black lingerie catches my eye. It’s a one-piece, fabric smooth from crotch up to an inch or two below the breasts, where things got lacy as fuck as well as nipple-revealing. The woman running the stall sees my interest. “You might not need this yet,” she told me with a smile toward my modest bump, “but this piece could be a lifesaver later in your pregnancy.” Turns out, the less ornate bottom half of the lingerie functioned somewhat like a belly band, or another piece of shapewear. It would lift your belly up and out of the way of your crotch, allowing for some far easier fucking/sucking/what have you. There was a wide panel at the crotch through which genitals could easily be accessed. She was right that I didn’t need it now, but goddamn would it have been helpful for some of Annie and my past pregnancies’ sexual escapades. I pick one up for use in the next few months, excited to have heavily pregnant sex with a little less encumbrance (if/when that’s what we desire…). I briefly consider it as a masturbatory aid, too, but realize that if I have the energy to squeeze myself into a piece of lingerie before jacking it, I probably have the energy to hold my gut out of the way with my hand instead and more simply. Also in the Maternity Wear area, I happen upon a small fashion show. Honestly, I don’t really have the vocabulary to describe a lot of what I saw. Lots of primary colors: yellow seems to be particularly in vogue this season. There are plenty of dresses with parts of them missing, especially belly areas, unsurprisingly. Jumpsuits are hot right now, too, apparently. Overall, it’s a little less sexy than mildly interesting, much as every non-maternity fashion show I’ve ever caught a glimpse of has been. Anyway, it’s a very good excuse to stare unembarrassedly at some bellies, and it’s nice to sit down for a few minutes. Speaking of staring at bellies, everybody here is staring at everyone else all the time. There seems to be an unspoken agreement that that’s just what happens here; we’re all both sporting bumps and interested in them, so why the hell shouldn’t we all both show off and get as many eye-fulls as we can in one harmless afternoon? On a number of occasions throughout the day, I’ve made eye contact with a preggo when trying to just give them a good ole eye-fuck. This tends to lead to a brief conversation about how far along we are/which pregnancy this is for us/general pregnancy talk, which in turn tends to draw in another preggo or two to the conversation. Most times, we’ve all bared our bellies and are touching up a storm in short order. I come to refer to these experiences internally as “vanilla belly orgies,” and they are blessedly common. So many different shapes, sizes, and textures on display, and all so very ripe for the touching! It’s a nice little piece of heaven, here. I find myself in the Arts & Crafts section, from which I don’t really know what to expect, but I end up enjoying myself quite a bit. First, I go into a photographer’s makeshift mini-studio for a sample boudoir session. She has me put on one of those dresses that’s apparently made exclusively for maternity photoshoots, with solid fabric covering bosom and crotch and the rest of the garment consisting of translucent gauze. I strike a pose laying on my side on a fake stone in front of a vinyl forest backdrop, my bump, legs, and bosom the evident focal points of the photo. Afterwards, the photographer gives me a cheap thumb drive with the picture contained within and her studio’s logo and contact info printed on the outside. Annie and I take plenty of photos (and videos…) on our own, but maybe I will consider a professional on this, what is almost certainly our family’s final pregnancy. Next, I get a sketch of myself done. The artist asks to touch my belly first, and I let him, despite the instant litany of questions that comes to mind as to why the fuck he needs to touch me in order to draw me. Based on his role here, handsiness, and the hungry look in his eye, I’m clocking this guy as a fetishist on one of the best days of his life. And good for him! Without his asking, I lift my shirt for him to get a look and a rub in on my bare bump, to boot. I won’t be getting in his way, perverted though his motives may be. He asks what I’d like from the sketch, and I tell him to do as he likes, his eyes widening in pleasure. The result is a nude, one of my arms covering my breasts and a tilted posture obscuring my pubic region with a thigh. It’s hot, I have to admit, and I tip him generously with another bare belly rub, this time for the several minutes it takes for another patron to come his way. I’m into it, and would’ve probably ended up in the bathroom with this guy had the next preggo wanting to be sketched not shown up. Oh well: the day is far from over… Someone else in the Arts & Crafts section has a fancy 3D printing machine, and is using a digital camera and some powerful software to make little keepsakes of his preggo customers. I get in line, eager for this novelty. The line is sizable but moves quickly, especially as I’m quickly getting and receiving belly rubs from both in front of and behind me. Finally my turn, I get into the little privacy booth he has set up and get completely nude. He flashes a photo remotely, I re-clothe, and he presents me with a few options for my figurine. I decide to go with the classic fertility goddess, six inches high and with a dark faux-wood finish. Completely nude, of course. I hadn’t come across many images of fertility goddesses with cocks, and I really fucking wanted one from the moment the idea came to me. It’s a real beauty, and I don’t see it leaving Annie’s bedside table anytime soon. There are some seminars going on in the conference rooms along the walls of the gigantic convention center chamber, and I find one on “Men’s Issues in Pregnancy” that I figure will yield the sort of result my dick’s been hardening for throughout my day here. Based on the glances between the half-dozen pregnant men in the room, I was right in my guess that this would be a pick-up spot. Men, after all, are only after the one thing. My glances with one gravid gentleman a few rows over get more and more intense, eye-fucks flowing freely. He’s a brunette, average height and build, with orbs of milk-filled tits resting on his bulbous and hairy full-term bump, completely bared by his choice of a tube top as torso attire. I want to cum on that hirsute belly. No one else seems to be waiting for the 45-minute session to end before sneaking out, so we don’t either (it’s not like a single soul in there was paying attention to the poor speaker, anyway). We grab a few random articles of clothing in the Maternity Wear section for plausible deniability’s sake, and get ourselves nude in a changing room. We’re rubbing on tits, bumps, and cocks vigorously and enthusiastically. I know what I want to do, and eventually have my dick in between our two bellies, thrusting upward. I manage to get a hand around his dick, as well, so as not to leave him in the cold. The bumpjob sandwich I’ve concocted turns me on intensely, and I’ve cum all over both of us in just a few minutes. I start rubbing my cum into both of us, one hand massaging it into each belly. He cums in my hands directly, and I gather his cum to add to our moisturizing routine. Moving our hands into new positions, he’s rubbing both palms over my shining bump as I rub both mine into his. I love making new friends. 5-7 Months: Prenatal Yoga I loved hearing about Annie’s ungainly attempt at yoga during her triplet pregnancy. I wanted to have prenatal yoga experiences of my own, but earlier and in a singleton pregnancy, when I could actually participate and properly attempt the poses. Once I was showing, I started attending the classes right away, and was able to successfully participate weekly through my 7th month. I got all the benefits of balance, strength, and flexibility that the doctors tell you about. Participation was fun and rewarding, and the constant buffet of eye candy in front of me was ever so welcome. The other preggos in the class (all women, it turned out) were almost exclusively first-timers on the magnificent journey of pregnancy, and my status as a four-time preggo (& male to boot!) with a three-time preggo wife was looked upon with admiration and awe. After each class, they’d asked me innumerable questions, and could barely keep their hands off my battle-scarred, fourth-time-around belly. I loved every second of it, particularly the reciprocated access to their multitude of yoga-attired bare bumps. More attention still was paid to me by our instructor, a preggo herself. I’d noticed that her gaze seemed to linger on the room’s bumps just a little longer than was absolutely necessary to evaluate our yoga postures; she was most definitely interested in the pregnant form, to put it mildly. Her pregnancy was just a week behind mine, and she loved comparing notes on where we were physically each week. She mentioned that I was only the third man she’d seen in her class, and the first that had stayed for more than a session or two. Talking to her following classes, it eventually became so commonplace for her to have a hand on my bare belly for our entire conversation that she stopped asking and just automatically rested a palm on my bump each time we began to speak. I fucking love it. In the middle of my 7th month, I let her know that it’d probably be just a few more weeks before I had to pack it in, as I could feel myself getting less flexible and therefore less capable of the yoga practice. She seemed very disappointed at first, then happiness entered her eyes again as she asked if I might be currently available for something of a “private session.” I was indeed free, and stuck around with the instructor until the rest of the class had left. She closed and locked the windowless door behind them. I allowed myself to start getting excited. She tells me that at our present sizes, nude yoga is actually easiest. Fewer constraints or something I guess, I’m not really sure; I was very distracted during her explanation by the impending prospect of our nudity. She was impressive unclothed. Not that she wasn’t pretty damned hot in her yoga sports bra/leggings combo, but now that I could see her perky-yet-milky tits and delicately groomed pubic hair, her cute-gravid tear drop of a stomach became even hotter in the context of the rest of her bare body. With only the one student to instruct, she maneuvers my body into position not with her words but with her hands. I couldn’t be happier. First, she guides me into the Warrior I pose: left knee bent in front of me, right leg stretched to balance as far behind me as possible, arms straight up towards the ceiling, back arched and pushing the bump forward. The instructor slowly strokes the arches and angles she’s shaped my body into, lingering particularly with one hand tracing my back and the other tracing my bump. She also rubs her bare bump into different parts of my nude body at just about every opportunity that arises, and I feel myself get hard. As she rubs down my back and belly, the belly hand briefly lingers before taking the plunge into crotch territory. She strokes me slowly, solidifying what I had already thought was a pretty decent boner. Letting go of my dick, she somehow positions herself facing away from me with our genitals aligned perfectly. Oh, the wonders of a yoga-trained body! Her flexibility is incomprehensible to me, but as she backs up her pelvis so as to envelop my cock in her pussy, I don’t really care about exactly how she’s doing it. I just care that it feels fucking fantastic. She seems to know exactly how far to push me before we change positions, as I’m just on the edge of orgasm when she starts to reposition me. Next comes the Bridge pose, which has my feet flat on the floor, knees bent above them, shoulders and arms on the floor with arms stretching toward feet, and pelvis and belly areas sticking straight up on the strength of the planted feet and shoulders. (It’s tough to describe, look it up.) Basically, my knees, erect cock, and protruding belly are the highest points my body is making. The instructor carefully straddles my pelvic region, proceeding to very carefully squat her way down onto my dick. Her leg muscles are incredibly strong. She’s able to squat down to perfectly take all of me inside her, then pull herself back up, entirely off of me. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Up & down, up & down, up & down… I’m getting really, really close to cumming, which I let her know just in case she has her heart set on another position. She does, it seems, as she shapes me into Tree pose; I’m standing on just my left leg, my right foot against my left inner thigh, hands in a posture of prayer out in front of me. It takes all of my balance and concentration to stay upright, especially given my pregnancy’s change to my center of gravity. I almost fall over as soon as she takes her hands off me, but I’m able to maintain my standing position. She kneels in front of me, taking me into her mouth. It feels amazing, as having your dick in a mouth usually does, but I have to maintain my attention on staying standing on the one leg. Distracted by the non-sexual exertion, I enjoy the blowjob on a different level than usual, as background to the increasingly intense physical effort. As I finally and powerfully cum in her mouth, I have to lower my other leg, not trusting myself to convulse in orgasm and maintain my balance. Top ten orgasm of my life, easily. I love this goddamned instructor. 6 Months: Nude Modeling Something about Annie’s meditation practice and the time she’d take just to sit in reverence of her pregnant body had rubbed off on me. I wanted a similar experience, but I’ve always been terrible at meditation, finding it incredibly frustrating as my mind wanders uncontrollably. I came up with another way to reverently commune with my body, though: I’ve signed-up to be a nude model. I go at 6 months along, very much showing and curvy all over, but not yet unwieldy or weighed-down looking. This, I think, is probably the time of the pregnancy I’d most like to revel in. The studio has mirrored walls, so I don’t have to move anything but my eyes if I want to see the students’ work or different angles of my own self. I stand with my right leg and knee bent and a bit in front of me, hands cradled under my bump. A pose that shows everything but will allow me to remain motionless for 60 minutes, the teacher and I had decided. All it takes is the dozen or so students in the class to start studying my form intensely for me to start to be very, very aware of the amazingness of my body. Feeling the heaviness of my belly in my cradled arms is amazing, especially as the bump continues to weigh on my arm muscles more and more throughout the hour. The sensation makes my dick twitch, and I briefly worry that an erection is going to fuck up the sameness of my posture the artists are all counting on to do accurate work. I finally come to the conclusion of “fuck it,” as the experience is clearly going to turn me on at some points, and I just can’t do anything about my dick’s behavior in this situation. Looking at the various sculptures, sketches, and paintings the students are creating based on my form, I come to appreciate tiny details of my body I wouldn’t otherwise ever have had reason to think about. The curves at the bottom of my tits are extremely similar in shape to the curve at the bottom of my belly, like my tits are two miniature pregnant bellies just above the real thing. This thought, like so many to come, does not help my boner situation. The gradual protrusion of my belly from just below my tits to below my navel is so gradual that the students all seem to struggle to capture it properly. I’m so delicately curved, art can’t capture my glory (getting harder down there, again…). The marks on my belly from my three previous pregnancies are carefully portrayed by the sketch artists, seeming less like a random assortment of stretches and blemishes than a precise network of lines and circles that must be captured perfectly. Body positivity way the fuck up! Seeing how close my penis is to my pregnant belly in all the artwork gets me hard as soon as I notice it; even after so many of my own experiences in addition to our culture’s increasingly common male pregnancies, the contrast of cock to bump has never ceased to thrill me. The two adjacent body parts reflected back at me as the subject of art, I can hardly contain how hard I’m getting. I’ve caught the teacher checking me out dozens of times through the hour, so I’m hardly surprised when he hits on me after the students leave. He ends up giving me a quick but decent blowjob, which is a great way to end things given that I would not be otherwise compensated for my modeling. 7 Months: Preggo Bikini Contest One of our local radio station’s morning shock jock crews holds an annual preggo bikini contest at a nearby sports bar, and I want hundreds of strangers to stare at my glorious 7 month bump. Lucky for me, they opened the contest up to men two years ago. So, I signed-up. I was one of 20 contestants, one of only three men. Being surrounded by 19 scantily clad preggos backstage was great, of course, but wasn’t quite doing it for me. What I was really waiting for was my great exhibitionist opportunity, the aforementioned hundreds of strangers staring at my bare belly. When the announcer finally called my name to take the stage, I arched my back as much as I could to really get that belly out there, truly show it off. In front of the crowd, I stroked every surface of my bump gently, prodding some firmer areas to show just how solid this bump was. I had taped my dick down inside my bikini bottoms so as to prevent an erection from giving away how much I was enjoying this, which it most assuredly would have shown without the protective measure. Caressing the belly, I occasionally have one of my hands slip to my breasts or my pubic region. I’m just out there smiling and rubbing on myself until the announcer finally announces the next contestant, breaking the wonderful spell that had overtaken me and forcing me off this stage of stares. A true high point in pregnant exhibitionism, at least for this pregnant exhibitionist. I didn’t win, unsurprisingly. There were two extremely hot pregnant ladies that I had assumed had the contest in the bag from the moment I spotted them, and they indeed won both the top prizes. As the other preggos leave with various partners, I get a Shirley Temple at the bar and take a seat in a corner booth, still wearing just a bikini and the “8” on a small piece of paper over my left breast, indicating my participation in the contest. So, anyone hanging around waiting for hot preggo contestants could very, very easily find me… Aaaaand two very quickly did. It’s a couple, presenting as male and female, neither of whom are pregnant. They sit close to me, one on either side, a welcomely presumptuous move. Blunt conversation successfully begun by yours truly, I quickly find out they are both pregnant fetishists who have come looking for a pregnant hook up. Perfect, as I’m a preggo looking for people who appreciate preggos. They both caress and prod my bare bump comprehensively as we speak. We get an occasional dirty look from another patron. They probably think the time for focusing on preggos is over, while the three of us know that time is very much just beginning. We go back to their hotel room. They’re driving five hours each way to be here, and I’m very glad I can fulfill their desires given the high cost of entry they’re paying. I give in to my exhibitionism as soon as the hotel room door is closed, stripping to nothing and standing in different poses in front of the clothed couple, caressing my bump, tits, and pubic hair for their (and my, who are we kidding) benefit. They rub each other’s crotch’s and moan as I do so. Finally, I motion for them to stand up, they disrobe, and things begin in earnest. I really love my fellow pregnancy fetishists. It’s always a good hook up with them (us), as just being in the room with a belly is a success already in their (our) book. Of course, I was giving them far more than just my belly’s presence on this occasion. Not counting my own, there are rarely fewer than four hands on my bump over the next few hours. I’m not sure I’ve been with people who LOVE my belly to quite this degree before, and I am majorly getting off on it. They can’t get enough of sucking the milk out of my tits or playing with my visibly engorged labia, either, but always with at least one hand still glued to my belly. I enjoy sucking him off while I roughly play with her tits (all four of their hands on the bump), eating her out while I jack him off and play with his balls (again, all four on the bump), and cumming on my own belly repeatedly (all four hands REALLY on the bump). They massage the cum in for me each time, making me glisten opalescently. After getting their fill of it visually, she licks the cum off of me the first time; he does likewise the second time. When we’re all used up orgasmically, I lay nude on my back on the bed, and they very gently explore every inch of me. Their hands feel exquisite as they stroke, caress, fondle, prod, push, and pinch my skin for a solid hour. I don’t think I’ve ever been so fully and thoroughly appreciated. 7-9 Months: Prenatal Swimming Annie had given prenatal swimming a try very late in her triplet pregnancy, enjoying the brief buoyancy of the pool but enduring myriad stares and a seriously embarrassing (and a little bit sexy) incident with a destroyed swimsuit in the locker room. I was going much earlier, both to get the pregnancy weight off my body and to get some exercise in. The ladies and single man that attend are extremely nice. It is actually a relief not to be able to ogle their bellies under the surface of the water, as I get more time to concentrate on their personalities, as well as whatever the instructor is trying to get across to our chatty asses. We have the most fun after each class, chatting about and admiring each other’s bellies, with hands flying from bump to bump with reckless and wonderful abandon. One week early in my 8th month, the instructor emails us all that we’ll have to meet that Thursday just before the Y closes, some sort of scheduling snafu or other. After the class, the four women and one other man I was relaxing and chatting with realize suddenly that we’re the only six people left in the whole place, even our instructor having left shortly after ending class. “Shower time!” one of the ladies exclaims, and we’re all fully nude and in the steam before we even consider what we’re doing. It felt like something impulsive and crazy a bunch of drunk college kids would do, but we were a bunch of sober and horny preggos acting pretty similarly to how they would’ve. A bit embarrassing, in retrospect, but boy did we have fun! First, the requisite belly rubbing commences. Tits are thrown into the mix, too, being exposed and right there for the touching, after all. I up the ante with the other man present, grabbing his dick as he grabs mine; we both start stroking. Before I know it, two of the women are separating us and getting on their knees, wanting our cocks for their own oral purposes. Neither me nor the other man protests. One of the two women without dicks in their mouths starts sucking the tit of the other one, leading to a serious makeout and grope session between the two of them. They eventually go down on each other, just as the other guy and myself finish and go down on our partners. Everyone having cum at least once, the same woman who suggested the shower fun yells “Skinny dipping!” and we’re all carefully but swiftly headed for the pool. We all enjoy the buoyancy, and enjoy continuing to touching each other’s bodies under the surface. It doesn’t get explicitly sexual again, remaining at the relatively chaste level of rubbing around on each other’s nudity. I could stay buoyant and surrounded by friendly nude preggos for the remainder of this pregnancy, I think. My mind almost instantaneously turns to my hunger for semen, and I realize this may not be a long-term solution to my maternal needs, amazing though it is. I just need that cum in and on me… 8 1/2 Months: The Gravid Glory Hole Speaking of my insatiable lust for cum while pregnant, the Maternity men’s section’s Wednesday lunchtime pick up had partially drifted over to a nearby gay bar. With all the preggos crowding their establishment each Wednesday evening, they decided to cater to the new crowd a bit. They already had a glory hole up and consistently running, but they cut a much larger, oval hole over the glory hole…and now they had a fucking glory hole for pregnant bellies! I just had to try it while I was still pregnant, especially as hugely pregnant as I am at this point. I want to suck and jerk the cum out of every cock I see, and rub every drop into my bump. I want my refractory period to be the only thing keeping me from constantly climaxing, hopefully having the orgasm-bringer rub my semen right back into me using this specialized glory hole. I want my dick and belly rubbed anonymously and forever. I want to stay in this bathroom for hours, with absolutely no need for clothing, glistening with the cum of an untold number of preggo men. This is my first time ever experiencing either side of a glory hole, and good lord is it fucking sexy! I’m nude before I start anything, and no one looks twice (besides the welcome horny looks I expected). I start on the giving end, jerking a handsome 7” cock while I rub a massive and massively hairy 8 month torpedo belly, eventually rubbing this guy’s seed on both his own and my bump. First hirsute torpedo belly I’ve encountered, and I’m way into it. If not for the anonymity, I might search this guy out for a more involved encounter. But, it’s all about the anonymity! It must be maintained and respected at all costs, or else fewer bellies and cocks are going to get the attention they so richly deserve. I take a turn on the receiving end. A man has my dick in his mouth and two handfuls of my belly grasped before I can mentally prepare myself for what’s to come. It’s glorious, and I’m glad I had no time to prepare for the bliss. I don’t have to think about the person on the other side of this wall as anything but hands and a mouth, and just enjoy him as such. It’s gotta be the purest way to be touched; you needn’t worry about the toucher whatsoever, and just enjoy yourself to the fullest. Goddamn, it is nice. Apparently not in it for the cum, the first guy is gone after two minutes. The next taps in, this time going at my cock with one hand while he caresses my bump gently with the other. I cum in under a minute. I can feel him gathering the load at the base of my cock, then I can feel him rubbing my cum back into my bump. It’s so, so, SO HOT. I want to rub it in myself, as is always my impulse. There are no arm holes here, though, and it is exquisite torture to have to rely on someone else to rub it in. He does a good job, and I feel like I’m opalescent even if I can’t see it myself. I figure my turn’s over and I need to leave the Stall of Honor, but a third guy is quickly holding my stomach in one hand. I can feel his body rocking, and figure he’s grasping my bump with one hand and jerking himself off with the other. Finally, after some serious moaning, I feel the cum drops on belly. And he just leaves. If I thought it was gloriously agonizing when someone else was rubbing cum into me, it was heightened by several orders of magnitude when no one was rubbing the cum in. It just lay there on my belly in drops, not adding to my glistening at all. I take myself out of the glory hole and finish myself off into my hands, rubbing all sorts of cum onto my belly and surrounding areas before leaving the stall. I get a round of applause from the men in the bathroom upon my literally glowing exit. EPILOGUE This time, my C-section was going to be accompanied by a hysterectomy. That was the plan. I was, I thought, officially done with pregnancy. I couldn’t pull the damn trigger, though. Maybe I’m an addict. Maybe I’m just too horny to act completely rationally about this. Oh, and Annie wanted me to make sure I mentioned that her uterus is very much intact and ready to go, too. She actually went to the hysterectomy appointment she’d made after the triplets, and just couldn’t go through with it. Dr. Lucas must think we’re both fucking nuts. I don’t necessarily think he’s wrong. More to come? Hard to imagine there isn’t. -Jarred
The Horny Sea Horse VII - Jarred’s Fifth
Hello once again! Jarred here. It’s been a year and…well, take a goddamn guess, at this point. Yes, I’m pregnant for the fifth time. Annie pretty much insisted. We’ve fucked, sucked, groped and ogled our share of preggos over the past year, but it just wasn’t quite doing it for her. After her triplet pregnancy, she’s not yet ready for another go herself. So, my turn again. Another surrogacy, naturally. She did insist and pretty much make the choice for both of us, but I can’t say I disagreed with her or argued for a second. It’d be a lie to say I’m less of an addict than she is. I’m so fucking ready to do this again, and was thrilled to get my embryo implanted last week. So here we go, right to the point this time. Pregnancy 5, Month 1 No really notable changes to speak of as far as my body goes thus far, but that has not dampened Annie’s horniness over my new pregnancy one bit. I don’t mind telling you she currently has my dick in her mouth; I just wouldn’t have time to update this thing if I waited for her to be done with me. Hand, mouth, or pussy, she’s got me pretty well occupied just about all the time since I got pregnant. I wake up with my cock in her control not just in the morning, but sometimes more than once over the span of a single night. I hope none of that comes off as complaining; it’s really, really not. She can get it absolutely anytime she wants. I’ve started to get the slightest bit of nausea and fatigue, but not nearly enough of either to make me turn down plentiful fucking, sucking, and stroking. Not that I’m even close to needing to worry about stretch marks yet, but she’s keeping my midsection as well-moisturized with cum as it’s ever been. It’s hot. Her enthusiasm for my very early pregnancy is quite contagious. I don’t know how she’s going to turn things up further once I’m showing, never mind once I get truly gravid. But I’m sure she’s going to find a way. This is very exciting already. Month 2 Well, her enthusiasm has gotten the slightest bit weird. I’ve become seriously nauseous, close to 24/7 at the moment. I’m kneeling at the toilet for a decent percentage of my days. You might not think a person could wedge her head between a vomiting person’s thighs and the base of a toilet, but you’d be wrong. Blowjobs mid-puking have become a daily occurrence, bare minimum. I can’t say I don’t enjoy it, but the mix of sensations is slightly confusing. I’m not personally turned on by the morning sickness symptom in the way Annie so clearly is, but I remain very much turned on by her insatiable appetite for my dick in her mouth. Additionally, getting one of my beloved cum massages mid-sick is a most welcome distraction. So, she’s still having her fun, and I’m getting a good amount of pleasure during unpleasant times. Win-win, I guess you’d have to say. Can’t deny it’s a bit odd, though. Anyway, I really need to go throw up…and get a little head. Month 3 We’re at Dr. Lucas’ office for a check-up, and Annie starts chatting up a heavily pregnant woman whom she most certainly positioned herself next to on purpose. She gets handsy, unable to resist the 8 month bump next to her, and obviously horny as hell. The woman’s there with her husband; Dr. Lucas has given them their first pregnancy after years of infertility. Annie shares our own not-dissimilar story, and a bond is formed. Before they’re called into their appointment, Annie’s got them coming over for coffee and cake later in the afternoon. I can’t imagine they have any idea what’s coming, but I sure as shit do. Once we’re all at the house together, it doesn’t take Annie 15 minutes to have the woman’s top hiked up to the bottom of her bra, completely baring her remarkably smooth and round bump. My shirt is off completely, as Annie gives them a little biology lesson on male pregnancy. She makes sure to point out my darkened areolas and nipples, and, of course, my just-starting-to-be-visible bump right under my navel. They’re both pretty fascinated with me, having somehow not encountered a pregnant man up to this point. I’m clearly the bait, allowing Annie to wedge herself further into their business as she discusses my body compared to the woman’s, and what the woman and I still have to expect going forward in our pregnancies. With a bit of prodding, she convinces the man to rub my bump, which she very well knows will get my juices flowing. I get hard in about 10 seconds and Annie promptly points it out to everyone in the room, faux-embarrassed that her husband’s erection is visible through his jeans. This, naturally, leads to Annie discussing the fact that both she and I find pregnancy sexually attractive. Glancing nervously at her husband, the woman quietly admits she’s found herself feeling extra sexy as she gets bigger and bigger. The man says he agrees that his wife’s gotten even sexier, and Annie’s smile tells me she has them where she wants them. “Okay, I apologize for the bluntness, but I need to see how dark those nipples have gotten,” she tells the woman. Blushing ensues, but so does the removal of top and bra. Her tits are great, deep red areolas and nipples, milk-filled orbs resting perfectly on her beautiful bump. Annie’s got her hands all over the belly again, this time “accidentally” brushing the newly bared breasts on occasion. She comes back over to me, hand at the level of my crotch when she’s still six feet away. My erection is immediately grabbed through my jeans, and we’re making out hard. Without pulling away from me, she gestures our guests toward the bedroom and pulls me there as well. Annie pulls her jeans and panties down in one go, pushes me onto the bed as soon as I do the same for myself, and mounts my cock, her hands firmly placed on my recently developed protuberance. They may not have come in with much experience, but our new couple friends follow our lead with little hesitation. He’s naked and on his back next to me on the bed, and she lugs her belly with both hands as she just manages to get herself above him enough to take his dick in her. We’re fucking side-by-side, Annie’s hands flying between my tiny bump and the woman’s sizable one, caressing and prodding with evident enthusiasm. The woman pulls Annie’s head in towards hers, and they’re making out. I’m having trouble fending off orgasm, but manage to keep it at bay for the moment, at least. I feel the man’s hand on my bump, which gets me going even more. I can’t hold back any longer, and I’m cumming loudly. Annie cums loudly, gripping the woman’s bump in both hands. The woman cums, one hand on one of her tits and the other rubbing her clit. The man cums, and his wife rolls off him. Annie dismounts from me, hopping over to collect some of the cum from the woman’s creampied pussy, just as she’s collected some of my cum from her own. She has a big handful of two loads, which she proceeds to rub all over the woman’s bump, adding a glorious sheen. This is clearly a novel occurrence for the couple, but you can tell we’ve just opened up a new sexual door for them that they will be revisiting in the weeks to come. We all get dressed, and they take off. We don’t bother getting their contact information; she’ll deliver in the next few weeks, and Annie will have lost all interest. My refractory period over, I find myself jealous that the woman’s bump got the cream treatment over mine. Annie doesn’t let the injustice stand for long. She keeps the head of my cock in her mouth as I jerk off rapidly. I tap her head just before I finish, and shoot white pearls directly onto my bump. We both rub it into me, and she finishes up by licking off both of our hands. She demands I keep my shirt off and roam the house with my opalescent glow for the rest of the afternoon. I don’t require much convincing. Month 4 As soon as my bump is noticeable enough to turn a few heads in public, Annie’s pushing hard for me to cruise for a hook-up. The obvious choice is the gay bar near the local Motherhood, into which the famed men’s section’s Wednesday lunchtime pick-up hour has spilled most hornily into Wednesday evenings. It’s the spot for picking up preggos, or being picked up while you’re preggo. It’s men and women in roughly equal proportions at this point, we’ve found over the past year or so. We’ve picked up our share of preggos here in between our own pregnancies, and Annie’s super fucking excited to have one of us on the other side of the pick-up once again. I wear a black bodycon dress with nothing underneath, tits and bump highlighted most prominently, nipples very much visible. Annie dresses identically, throwing off strong, concise vibes that we’re a package deal. She seats me at a centrally-located, visible-to-all table and starts hunting. I watch her circle the perimeter of the bar, chatting up a few pregnant men and women with no apparent luck. She is getting in plenty of bare belly rubs, though, with just about every preggo in this bar ready to lift their shirts at the slightest hint of interest. I’m increasingly envious…and horny. Lost in fantasy, I briefly lose track of Annie. A brunette woman in a tight black t-shirt and ripped jeans, late 2nd trimester, approaches me and says “your wife sent me.” She takes my hand, leading me into the women’s bathroom with her. We take the handicap stall, and she unceremoniously pulls my dress up to reveal my cock and bump. I start to lift her shirt over her belly, and she promptly pulls it all the way off, tossing it on the floor. She hasn’t worn a bra tonight, either. My dress goes to the floor, too. Our hands are quickly all over each other’s bumps, tits, and genitals. She doesn’t remove her jeans, but they’re more than tight enough to allow for some serious sensation via rubbing her cunt through them. Or so her moans indicate. I get her off through the jeans, and she gets on her knees in front of me, taking my cock into her mouth and beginning to quickly move her mouth up and down my shaft. She’s got truly remarkable suction, and I find myself tapping her on the head in just a few minutes. It’s impolite to cum in a stranger’s mouth, I’ve always supposed. And it’s definitely not right to let a perfectly good load shoot down a throat rather than onto a nice pair of tits and round belly. My load sprays all over her torso, she stands back up, and I thoroughly rub it into her. She grabs her shirt off the floor and puts it back on. It visibly sticks to her now-sticky torso. If it weren’t for the goddamn refractory period, this sight alone would have me ready for round two. Instead, we’re both dressed again, and we part ways namelessly. God bless Annie for setting this up! Exiting the women’s room, Annie is waiting close by with a man who looks nervous and non-pregnant. “First timer,” she tells me, and the three of us grab a table. He’s been coming to this bar for years, but this is his first foray into Preggo Night. He’s preggo-curious, I guess you’d call it: intrigued at a distance, not sure how he’ll feel once one is actually available right in front of him. In short order, we’re in line for the men’s room’s handicap stall. The two massively pregnant men (seriously, these guys were fucking huge…next week, maybe?) in the stall before us leave dripping sweat, and Annie’s got my dress off before our friend has closed the stall door behind the three of us. She stands behind me, rubbing my bump with her right hand and erecting my cock with her left. The guy watches from a few feet away, totally enthralled. His dick’s out now, and he’s slowly stroking it, clearly close to cumming already. Annie gestures him over, and he’s on his knees for my second blowjob of the night. He keeps both hands glued to my bump, blowing me slowly but rhythmically for a solid five minutes before I come hard into his mouth. “Spit it onto me,” I quickly demand. He’s all in, standing up and letting my cum and his saliva drip onto my bump, then rubbing it in tenderly. I’m glowing and happy, and I grab his still-hard cock. I jerk him, carefully aimed so that he climaxes right onto my already-shiny bump. I’m dripping semen now, and he kneels back down to lick the excess cum off my belly. I think we’ve created a convert to preggo love. Fun fucking night. Month 5 I’ve got a nice little bump going, and I can’t keep my hands or my cum off it. Never mind keeping Annie away from it. She peels herself off me long enough to take a phone call from our old friend The Cock (see our previous journals!). We’re invited to a key party, which I had no idea had even existed since the ‘70s. It’s a preggo-specific key party, with all of the preggos putting their car keys in the bowl, and non-preggos randomly choosing from them. Or, it’s supposed to be random. Annie winds up with The Cock, of course, and I’m pretty sure neither of them would’ve left it to chance. So be it; I can’t compete with that guy’s member for a second, and I understand completely why she wanted some of his trademark hole-stretching. His bump was looking seriously good, too, in his 15th or so pregnancy. How could she resist? I’m slightly disappointed that I won’t be getting with a preggo myself, but am certainly glad that whoever gets with me is going to be into my current state. I wind up with an attractive blonde woman, thin with big tits, mid-30s. Can’t complain. She can’t either, it would seem. We’re both naked as soon as we get into our room, and she’s all over my belly with her hands and tongue. I’m hard right away, and she’s already down there; I’m in her mouth before I know it. She blows me for a few, then I maneuver us into a 69 position with me on the bottom, as her pussy is looking pretty good to me. I eat her out, she blows me and caresses my bump. I finish myself on my bump, and she’s licking it clean before I have the chance to rub it in. Again, no complaints. It’s pretty damn hot, and I’m making out with her the moment she’s finished, the taste of my cum passing from her mouth to mine. We’re at it for long enough for me to get hard again, and she’s riding my cock, resting both hands on my bump as she bounces up and down. I’m entranced by the way her tits are bobbing up and down, and I get two fantastic handfuls, her erect nipples brushing against my palms. I pull out and cum on my bump once more, this time rubbing it into myself as she collapses next to me. It’s a good time, but frankly a tiny bit vanilla for my tastes. I’m only halfway through this pregnancy, though, and I know Annie will heat things up further for us. On to the next adventure! Month 6 Annie brings up pregnant escorts, and it sounds like old hat to me at this point. She clarifies: I’ll be the pregnant escort, and she’ll do the pimping. I’m intrigued, to put it mildly. It was difficult to find pregnant escorts when we’d gone that route in the past, but finding johns when you’re the pregnant escort is really, really easy. You post an ad in the right place, and you’re sorting through more offers than you can possibly handle. We don’t post pictures of my face or anything else that could identify me, but my nicely developing, mildly hairy tear drop belly is more than enough to get a good number of folks all hot, bothered and begging to pay me for my time. Annie’s got some kind of screening process set up to keep me safe and legally protected, and before I know it, I’ve got my first date. My first date is a quickie, just to get warmed up, Annie figures. It’s a guy in his 60s, just wants to rub my belly, blow me and swallow. We meet in his hotel room, I’m in and out within the agreed upon 15 minutes. He gives a good blowjob, and I get a little cash? So far, I very much like this line of work. Next, Annie sets up something a bit more exciting. It’s two guys in their 30s, one of whom is heavily pregnant with their first child. They’ve been digging the pregnancy a lot and want more pregnancy around them, which I can certainly provide. I lay down on the bed in the hotel room: the pregnant guy positions his delightfully hairy bump just over my head so I can blow him and rub his belly, and his partner is kneeling at my knees so he can blow me and rub my belly. Copious rubbing of cum into bellies follows, naturally. We all have a great time, and Annie and my dinner is paid for. Again, escorting is going pretty well for me. I get I’m living a very privileged version of it, but my sluttiness is getting satiated and monetarily compensated, so I cannot complain. Month 7 For my next act, Annie made sure the clients were okay with her being in the room, watching; she didn’t want to miss this. It was a lesbian couple, both 8 months pregnant with their first(s). No experience with a man whatsoever, but intrigued enough with pregnancy in general that they want to try out a dick for the first time, so long as the guy’s pregnant. And I’m quite pregnant at this point, if I may so so myself. I’m widening, protruding, waddling, all of it. Maybe not quite gravid just yet, but quickly approaching that descriptor. We exchange over a dozen emails with them, working out every conceivable detail. They want to make sure their interactions with my cock are completely on their terms, and they won’t be surprised by anything they’re not interested in. No problem at all, and we happily iron out every detail they bring up. Basically, they touch me, not the other way around. Sounds pretty fucking hot to me. After having built up some trust with all the emails, they feel comfortable enough to invite Annie and me over to their house for the fun. We chat a bit and enjoy light refreshments, but I can tell they’re a bit antsy, and I suggest we move things into the bedroom. They whole-heartedly agree. We three preggos get nude, Annie sits in a chair in the corner to observe. The clients want me on my back on the bed, fully nude. One sitting on each side of my waist, they each have one hand on my bump and one hand on my cock, enjoying the sensation of my hardening. Timidly at first, they take turns stroking up and down my dick. Unpracticed with male genitalia or no, getting a handjob from two heavily pregnant ladies is seriously arousing. I abide by the rules we set down, letting them touch me without my actively touching them. It’s hard as hell to refrain from rubbing those bumps, mere inches from my hands. Additionally, though, it’s hot as hell to refrain. I briefly feel similar to when Annie tied me to our four-post bed a few pregnancies back. It’s a glorious sort of torture once again. Once they’ve spent a few minutes with their hands on me, one of the pregnant ladies bends over to take my dick in her mouth, the other focusing all her attention on my bump. Fantastic sensations mixed with proximity to double pregnant hotness brings me to the brink of climax. I tap the fellatio-providing preggo on the head, not wanting her first experience of semen to be having it suddenly spurt into her mouth. I finish myself off with my hand, shooting onto my bump. “You can rub it in, if you like,” I offer. “I’m sorta into that.” An understatement if I’ve ever made one. They’re tentative at first, getting just the tiniest bit of cum on their fingertips to see what it feels like. Apparently not entirely grossed out, they both begin rubbing, four hands total on my belly. They rub it in gently but thoroughly, leaving my entire bump gleaming. I remind them I’ll have to wait out my refractory period to be able to do much of anything again, and they take a little intermission to play with each other. They’re rubbing each other’s clits and bumps with their cum-sticky hands, and I want so, so badly to be able to jerk myself off. Another divine form of teasing torture, this one biology’s doing. By the time they get each other off I’m hard again, both from time passing and the extremely hot sex they’ve been having in front of me. I offer my cock’s services to them once again. Wet from fooling around with her partner, one of the ladies climbs onto me, her eyes widening as I enter her. She does not seem displeased with the sensation. Gently, she lowers her dropped belly onto my slightly more modest one, allowing for some relatively easy fucking. She starts slowly bouncing up and down, moaning throughout. I continue keeping my hands to myself, wondering how long I can last. She gets off after a few minutes, and the other preggo is quickly atop my cock. I feel bad when I can only give her about two minutes before I’m about to cum. “Where should I cum?” I manage to get out, and she quickly hops off me. I can hardly blame her for not wanting me to cum in her, pregnant or not. That might be pretty weird from her perspective. She seems to enjoy, though, my cumming directly onto my own bump again. This time, she bends down to lick it from my belly rather than rub it in. Her partner joins her, and they’ve got my midsection clean in under a minute. It’s ultra-hot, and I’m really glad they’re enjoying my cum, just as I do. That pretty much does it for us, and they get dressed, pay, thank us and take off. I think me and my cock have made about as good a first-dick impression on these lesbians as could be hoped for. Good for everyone! Maybe they’ll decide to get with more pregnant men. Those potential men can thank me later. Month 8 I have a co-worker who’s been eye-fucking me throughout this pregnancy. She’s relatively new to the office, and hadn’t experienced any of my previous gestations. I’ve been catching her since the moment I started showing and admitted to the folks at the office that I was, yet again, pregnant. Not that I’ve verbally called her on it, but our eyes have met awkwardly a great number of times by this point. Granted, I flaunt it when I’ve got it. I rub my belly at just about every moment of the workday that doesn’t require both my hands be otherwise occupied. While not revealing underbelly cleavage or ever even considering baring the full belly at work, I certainly wear my share of very tight-fitting clothes professionally when I’m pregnant. I’ll discuss just about any aspect of my pregnancy with the ladies and one other guy at work who’ve gone through the wondrous process themselves. And those folks have for sure picked up on my thing for pregnancy, which I’m sure means it’s spread around the office completely. I’m not sure what exactly gave me away, but I think it could’ve occurred to them that I had pleasure-related motives somewhere around the 6th or 7th pregnancy between my wife and me. Anyway, this young woman, Gretchen, is in her mid-20s, has certainly not experienced a pregnancy herself, and has been very shy and quiet around me the past few months, despite the constant staring. I can’t say I’m not leaning into it a little bit. A few weeks ago, for example, I saw her staring, but knew she didn’t notice I caught her. I hiked my top up, revealing my whole bump right there at my desk. I took out the shea butter, and went to town for a solid five minutes. I’m positively sure she enjoyed the show. Happening to be in the break room at the same time as Gretchen and another co-worker who’s a few months behind me in her pregnancy, I exaggerate the touching-of-each-other’s-bellies ritual, stroking both sides of my co-workers bump as she follows my lead and does the same with both her hands on mine. Again, definitely saw the a thrilled glint in the eyes of Gretchen after this little performance. I may be teasing her just a bit, but I can’t help showing off for an obvious admirer. My waddle, whenever I pass Gretchen’s desk, is dialed up by at least 50%. I asked a co-worker to switch desks with me so that I’d have easier access to the bathroom, as I’ve been peeing every 30 minutes or so for the past 2 months; it’s certainly convenient, but I really moved there to be more easily in Gretchen’s sightline. Frankly, Gretchen’s made work a lot more bearable during this pregnancy. I may not be able to get off during business hours, but putting on a show is a pretty decent substitute. I’ve been telling Annie about all this, of course, and she mostly finds it pretty hot. She also thinks it’s unconscionable for me to tease this young woman for an entire pregnancy without some sort of payoff. So, I’m not all that surprised when I find Gretchen in our kitchen, casually having coffee with my wife one Saturday afternoon. “Hi honey! Gretchen here just loves your bump,” Annie begins. I don’t bother asking how she found my co-worker’s contact info or got her here, as the fact that she’s already got Gretchen admitting to liking my body grabs my attention fully. Something fun is clearly going to come of this. I entered the kitchen in just a bra and panties, and Gretchen’s been gawking the whole time. I sidle up to her, presenting my gravidness for her touch. She grabs my bump in both hands from the bottom, lifting its weight from me temporarily. Gently placing it back down near my crotch (I’ve definitely dropped at this point, by the way!), she caresses it all over with both palms, fingers pushing into the bump gently to gauge its firmness in various areas. It’s gotten slightly hairier this pregnancy, and she seems to be enjoying the hirsute belly. I certainly enjoy having her rub and prod it. My dick is somehow still contained by my panties, but it could slip out at any second. “Why don’t you take off your bra, sweetie,” Annie implores. I do it immediately, milkily sagging tits bouncing then coming to rest on my low-hanging bump. Both tits are in Gretchen’s hands immediately. “Bedroom?” I ask, finally getting a word out. Gretchen tears all her clothes off on the way, shedding any shred of shyness she had left in her. Annie sits on the bed. I stay standing, and Gretchen kneels in front of me, getting a novel low-angle view of my belly and rubbing it with both hands nonstop. She works her way up to my tits at times, and occasionally even brushes against my very evidently erect cock, still barely contained in my underwear. Finally, she goes for it and pulls my panties down, my cock immediately springing to attention just under my bump. Gretchen’s eyes go wide, and she takes my shaft in her left hand and a handful of my bump in her right. I honestly don’t give a shit who it is, I’ve learned over five pregnancies: anyone can play with my dick and belly at the same time, and I will be delighted. She goes at both parts aggressively, and I’m digging it. “I’m gonna move to the bed,” I tell her gently, putting off climax for the moment. Annie gets off the bed as I move toward it, moving toward her viewing chair in the corner of the room. She’ll be hands-off for this experience, apparently. I lay on my back on the bed, cock straight up and stretching just beyond my hairy bump, gesturing for Gretchen to join me. She climbs on the bed and sits directly on my tits, facing away from me. Leaning over to get dick access, she’s basically hugging my bump with her entire torso as she takes me into her mouth. I fucking love it. I begin bouncing gently up and down, giving her the full sensory experience of my gravid belly’s simultaneous firmness and softness. She moans as she takes it all in, continuing to suck me off. Just as I start feeling my muscles readying to contract in orgasm, she removes my cock from my mouth and sits up. While I’m pretty sure this is her first time with a preggo, it’s becoming obvious she knows her way around a penis. Rotating to face towards me, she’s quickly got me in her pussy, and she feels great. Up and down rhythmically, I’m fending off orgasm again after half a dozen pumps. “Tell me when you’re going to cum.” She’s taken charge. It’s a major turn-on, and based on how hard Annie’s going at her newly-bared pussy in the corner, the wife’s onboard too. Gretchen doesn’t have to wait long, and I’m nodding in indication that orgasm is imminent. She climbs off my dick and kneels just to the side of me, pumping hard with her left hand to finish me off. I reach down around my very-much-in-the-way-at-this-point bump to angle her hand and my cock up, ensuring I’ll cum right onto the bump. I know how much I like this, and I’m guessing she’s gonna be into it as well. I shoot rope after rope onto my belly, moaning loudly. Just about in unison, Annie moans from her corner of the room. Gretchen knows what to do without having to be told, and enthusiastically rubs my cum right into the hirsute flesh of my engorged gut. After a minute, she’s rubbing my bump with the one hand and her cunt with the other. She’s moaning in seconds, even more loudly than Annie or I had. Post-coital, Gretchen collapses next to me and our eyes meet. “Are things going to be awkward on Monday?” she asks. I couldn’t give less of a fuck at the moment. Month 9 Annie demands that I’m home this Wednesday around 1 PM. I have an inkling of where things might be heading, but I’m trying not to get my hopes up too high. She’s gone from 11:45 - 12:50, and I know that I was right about her destination the second she gets back. It was the Motherhood men’s section’s Wednesday lunch hour hook-up time, and she has apparently hit several jackpots simultaneously. She enters the house with four pregnant men: let’s just call them Big, Huge, Huger, and Hugest. It really seems like she hogged the entirety of the cream of the crop for herself, somehow bringing home four of the sexiest preggos I’ve ever seen from just the one pick-up hour. I’m seriously fucking huge at this point in the pregnancy, and have no idea what I’m going to be able to do with these monsters in our apparent MMMMM situation (or MMMMMF? I’m betting no “F,” as this is the type of thing Annie’ll probably want to watch rather than participate in). As we enter the bedroom and all four of our guests promptly begin to disrobe, Annie takes her seat in the corner and tells me to disrobe and lay down. “You’ll be tended to,” she explains. All four new bumps in the room are hirsute, and all four have a little extra weight on them, providing a delightful softness all around. And they’re all so very round, at least 7 months in even for the most modest of them. I’m nude on my back on the bed, erect but bump finally protruding further than my cock even when I’m supine. I can’t see over my bump to who’s blowing me, but based on differing techniques, all four of them take a turn at one point or another. Other than that, they tend to stay at my sides, available for me to stroke and suck at will, so long as we can all navigate the multitude of huge and hairy bumps in the room. My belly’s probably averaging four hands on it at a time throughout the encounter, and I’m loving every second. A veritable buffet of bumps and cocks, presented to me in a manner that minimizes my (very limited at this point) effort. My mouth and hands are a flurry moving between bumps and dicks, just as their hands, mouths, and cocks are. With just a little bit of eye contact between the five of us, we somehow manage to roughly line up our orgasms. My bump receives ALL of the semen produced. It’s a straight-up cum bath. Five whole loads at once, and it briefly crosses my mind that we’re going to have to throw out our duvet. Or, save it as a sort of crusty trophy, maybe. The cum’s dripping straight from my swollen belly onto the bed, even as I furiously rub as much into my skin as I can possibly absorb. I take whole handfuls and rub them into the four huge bumps that still surround me. There is enough to go around, and I’m delighted at the five shining bumps together in one room. I even insist that Annie get a picture of the five gleaming bellies lined up in a row (no faces, of course). That photo will be a real keeper. I wish so very badly that I could keep playing with this incredible group Annie’s assembled, but I’m just so fucking tired after round one. They understand, and they’re gone from my life just as quickly as they entered it. But goddamn, what a climax to this pregnancy!!! Epilogue I had my C-section appointment yesterday and…I’ve still got my uterus today. Can’t part with the damn thing, it would seem. I’m still not getting any younger, obviously, but there have been no adverse effects from the synthetic uteri even in men significantly older than me, Dr. Lucas assured. I’m definitely not next on the docket, though. Annie was implanted with an embryo last week, as a matter of fact. She couldn’t even wait till my pregnancy was complete. I can’t say I’m surprised, especially with the control she took over this pregnancy of mine, and how fucking horny she was throughout. She couldn’t bear to take a break in the action, and I’m sure you’ll be hearing from her shortly. I imagine she’ll be getting into plenty of new shenanigans in her next go ‘round…
The Horny Sea Horse VIII - Annie’s Return to Form
Hello and welcome! Annie here, triumphantly returning with another surrogate bun in the oven. I couldn’t even manage to fully wait out Jarred’s last pregnancy before getting knocked up myself again. It was too much fucking fun. I wanted in, so I got another embryo in me ASAP. After the triplet pregnancy, I wasn’t sure I’d ever want another turn. I was wrong to every doubt my ongoing desires. It is a huge relief at the moment to know there’s just the one baby in there, though. Not getting obscenely huge this time. Just huge enough. Manageably so. Okay, enough foreplay. Time to fuck my way through this thing. Pregnancy 4, Month 1 Things are just not happening quickly enough for me. I realize I can’t expect the sort of crazily rapid explosion in growth that came so early when I was pregnant with triplets. On the other hand, wasting a third of my pregnancy without even showing is making me sort of sad right now. And the silicone belly just isn’t doing it for me at the moment. Granted, I’m still fairly horny, and using Jarred’s cum to moisturize the area that will be my bump on the reg. I just want that bump to be there so badly. Time will pass! I need to exercise a little bit of patience, and I’ll be nice and big before I know it. Until then, maybe I’ll go hunting for some eye-candy at the mall. Or, a little more than eye-candy. Month 2 I’m so fucking morning sick. It’s even worse, somehow, than what I went through with the triplets. It’s been close to three straight weeks of nausea and puking at this point, and I’ve honestly been wondering if this pregnancy was the right decision for me. I have real regrets that are getting hard to tamp down. Luckily, I have an amazing husband. I’m lying on our bed, puke bucket by my side, when he enters the room with our old friend The Cock. The Cock’s gigantic; I later find out it’s another twin pregnancy for him and he’s close to 8 months along. Jarred tells me they have a little show for me, and that he hopes it’ll remind me of how much I love pregnancy. I’m intrigued. Jarred keeps his clothes on, but The Cock is quickly in the nude and 11” erect. Positioning himself behind The Cock, Jarred puts both hands on his massive hairy center, grabbing flesh with his right hand and caressing with his left. The left hand slowly moves down to The Cock’s…well, cock. It becomes evident within about two attempted strokes that Jarred can’t one-hand the beast that is The Cock’s namesake. He moves around to the front of him. Kneeling, he takes The Cock’s absurdly girthed shaft in both hands, stroking with just a little bit of hand rotation. Jarred’s got good handjob technique, I note. After a few minutes of very arousing stroking, Jarred’s attempting to get some of that massive dick in his mouth. He manages the entire head and maybe two inches of the shaft. It seems to be plenty based on The Cock’s moans. Jarred sucks while continuing to stroke with both hands, The Cock’s hands gripping his colossal midsection and lifting it away from his crotch and out of Jarred’s way. Moaning more loudly, The Cock’s lets his bump drop directly onto Jarred’s fellating head. Jarred pulls his mouth back, continuing to stroke as The Cock climaxes. As soon as he notices The Cock’s muscles starting to spasm, Jarred lets go of the dick and The Cock takes over, pointing himself upward directly into his belly. He cums onto himself, and Jarred massages each and every pearl into the bump as they shoot out. Meanwhile, I’ve been touching myself for the first time in about 10 days. I’m coming for the third time in the last 10 minutes. Jarred’s and The Cock’s show is a rousing and arousing success. I know I’m not going to get as big as the bump that’s just been shown off. Nonetheless, I’m inspired by The Cock’s enormity. I can’t wait to get big, and I’m more than a little excited again, no longer just depressed by my nauseous issues. Way to go, guys! Much appreciated. Month 3 The good thing about having carried triplets last pregnancy is that my abdominal skin is nice and stretched out already. I’m showing already at just 3 months, and I couldn’t be happier. Or hornier. Jarred’s getting it morning, noon, and night. He’s not complaining. It’s not quite enough for me, though, as he very well understands by this point in our procreative relationship. So, it’s off to the Motherhood men’s section’s Wednesday lunchtime pick-up hour for me once again! It is seriously dense in the entirety of Motherhood this afternoon. Bellies rub against bellies, both in sexy purposeful ways and because there’s just not enough room to avoid collisions. There are a multitude of fully-bared bellies in the room, and I can’t resist lifting my top up to my bra to join that particular club. My bump’s not all that much to look at yet, but these folks appreciate a variety of shapes and sizes in their preggos; I can tell based on how many looks I’m getting despite my still modest form. It’s crowded enough to allow for in-store hook-ups, the first time I’ve seen that. Plenty of public belly rubs when I’ve been here in the past, but this is the first time I’ve seen cocks exposed. Two handsome and shirtless young pregnant men are in the corner of the store behind a rack of clothes, clearly jerking each other off. I want a piece of that action, I decide immediately. I walk over to them, rubbing my belly with both hands. “Room for a third?” I ask, inserting myself in between them. I take a dick in each hand and start jerking. It’s a thrill to do so in public. I wish I had a third hand to touch myself; the guys are focused on each other’s bellies now that I’m taking care of the cocks. It’s not long till they both cum, and I let it all shoot where it will. Right into the clothes on the rack we’re hiding behind, in fact. I feel slightly guilty, but also like leaving cum on the clothes is pretty fucking hot. I split the difference, buying one of the cum-stained tops and leaving the other as a fun surprise for a future shopper. Month 4 This pregnancy isn’t lining up well with the annual Expecting Expo, disappointingly enough. There is, however, a newly-started pregnant convention that caters specifically (but not exclusively) to pregnant men, and I’m checking it out. I wear my tightest tank top and shortest jean shorts. My underbelly cleavage (and standard boob cleavage, for that matter) leave little to the imagination. The outfit succinctly says “I’m slutty” without my having to open my mouth. Though opening my mouth is something I’m very ready to do given the right situation… One trend is immediately evident in the crowd: tube tops for pregnant men. I am absolutely surrounded by hairy bare bumps, and I’m loving every second of it. I’m getting handsy and no one’s complaining. It’s hard to get a bump rub in on someone who’s walking, but the second they stop at a vendor’s booth I’m right in there. As one of few women around and being visibly pregnant to boot, I seem to be a welcome presence. I’m obviously happy to reciprocate and let whomever I rub rub me in return, so we’re all winning here. Somewhere within the Apparel section, I come to a runway and sit down in a folding chair for a few minutes to take in the fashion show. They’ve made some pretty impressive strides in the field of maternity suits. A nice business suit can both look sleek and nicely accentuate a bump, it turns out. And the lingerie! It seems like they’re finally figuring out how to deal with a belly and a cock on the same body. I was impressed enough to buy something rather pricey for Jarred…just in case he needs it again someday. I see a booth that brings back memories of something Jarred and I tried when we were simultaneously preggo years ago: its sign reads “Free Belly Rubs.” Obviously, the belly rubs around this entire place tend to be free, and copious. A dedicated booth, though, with the participants’ receptivity to rubbing made explicit is a welcome attraction. And it’s really fucking popular. I like the look of the three gravid guys receiving the rubs, and I’m fine waiting ten minutes for my turn. Not wanting to overstay my welcome or make others wait for too long, I decide on just one of the three well before my turn: I’m going for the heaviest of the three. His fat fills out his form nicely and his full-term bump is fully covered in dark brown hair. Bearded and chubby, he’s at once the most masculine and softest-looking of those on offer. The contrast is delightful to me. I get seriously wet rubbing his soft but firm midsection, fantasizing about rubbing a load of cum into all that hair. He seems to be doing some fantasizing of his own, as I can see his cock straining against the crotch of his leggings. In a whisper, I inform him of my hotel room number before I take my leave. They’re making belly casts that include both bust and erect cock at a booth a preggo Jarred most certainly would’ve taken advantage of. A sex toy display has pocket pussies that are easy to manipulate around the inconvenience of a big ole bump. They also have hairy-bumped male preggo real dolls, made to the big spenders’ specifications. All interesting and pretty sexy curios, but my mind’s on my hotel room upstairs now that I have a possible hook-up on its way in the near future. I retreat to the room about an hour before the convention’s end. I straighten up what little I’ve unpacked, then ready myself in earnest: I get completely naked and rub three out in a row, all while thinking about the soft, hairy pregnant man I hope will arrive shortly. It’s just a few minutes after the expo’s close that I hear a knock at the door. I’m still nude as I open the door. He enters wordlessly, placing one hand on my seriously outmatched bump and the other on my breast. His tube top and leggings are off in moments, and I’ve got one hand on his bump and the other on his cock as he pulls me in for a kiss. I love the bristling of his beard on my face, and I moan loudly as he moves his hand down my bump and onto my pussy. He rubs me gently, paying close and appreciated attention to my clit. His cock’s feeling close to bursting in my hand, so I get to my knees and take him fully in my mouth. Big cock nearly choking me, I finish myself off with my left hand as I grip his soft and nicely flabby bump with my right. I feel him start to cum and I release him from my mouth and angle his dick down as both hands stroke it to completion. Moaning, he shoots all over my tits and belly. I rub some of it into myself, but most of it goes right into his woolly gut. The stickiness and vigorous rubbing has his thick, dark hairs twisted together and pointing in all directions. I love my creation and make sure he doesn’t mind me getting a picture of it as a little keepsake of our time together. Month 5 Jarred’s been cruising lots of pregnancy-related message boards and such, and has learned of a new “Preggo Night” at a strip club a 90-minute drive from us. We book a hotel room and attend at our earliest opportunity. Apparently the place has two pregnant ladies on their regular staff, featured prominently on these special occasions. To fill in the rest of the night, they open it up to amateurs. I’ll definitely have to feel out the vibe of the place and my own comfort level, but I’m really hoping to get up on the pole myself. I believe Jarred is hoping the same, as the idea of horny strangers watching his pregnant wife strip is most certainly up his perverted alley. The place is seedy, just on the edge between dirty-sexy and just-plain-dirty. I have to choose to see it as arousing rather than filthy, which is a distinction I think I can hold onto for myself. Anyway, i don’t have to make an immediate decision on whether I’ll dance or not. I can certainly take in some eye candy first. On the pole as we enter is, I’m guessing and will later confirm, one of the professionals. The crowd loves her, tossing dollar bills all over the stage and cheering exuberantly. Even sporting what would appear to be a late second trimester bump, she can hold herself high off the ground using just her leg muscles. It’s an impressive physical feat, and one that I can assure you I will not be attempting. Seeing her up there, though, I am quickly warming to the idea of stripping tonight myself. She’s seriously hot, and she’s not too much bigger than I am. I’ve even got comparable tits, I think. She’s clean shaven downstairs, which I cannot claim for myself. Nonetheless, I think the crowd will enjoy what I’ve got to offer. Plenty of men appreciate a substantial bush, after all. She rubs her crotch, bump, and tits against the pole in turn. Her right hand mostly stays above her head on the pole, while her left caresses her fun parts slowly and seductively. As a professional I’m sure she’s making it look easier than it is, but I’m pretty sure I can swing a decent amateur approximation of what she’s doing. This dancer finishes up, and they announce the next. She’s the other of their on-staff preggos, and she’s significantly bigger than the first. Full term, easy. Understandably, she’s a bit less limber on the pole. No holding her gravid physique up hands-free: her feet never leave the floor. I’m more into her than the first, despite her unwieldiness. Hell, I like her more because of her unwieldiness. It’s sexy to see someone struggling to perform their stripping duties due to their massiveness. A full term belly slowly rotating, being stroked and squeezed, is one hell of a show. I can tell from his face that Jarred agrees with me. This stripper’s bump has clearly dropped and she’s got a fantastic tear drop shape going on, down all the way to her crotch at this point. It tantalizingly obscures the view of her unclothed crotch. Sagging with milk, her tits hang to either side of the torso-consuming belly, colliding with the bump rhythmically as she moves her body. I feel a little less confident about getting up there myself now. This seriously preggers dancer would be a hard act to follow, and my relatively modest size suddenly feels like a liability. This model of fertility finishes up her set, and the announcer lets us all know that it’s amateur time. A yourg blonde woman gets up from her table almost instantaneously. She’s wearing a white bodycon midi dress, very obviously without underwear. Her bump is a torpedo, maybe 7 months along. As she mounts the stairs to take the stage, she holds the substantial belly up with both hands. Before her music even starts, she’s got the dress off over head and onto the floor. Her tits are perky, pubic region smooth, belly milky white and untouched by stretch marks: first pregnancy, I’d have to guess. While she’s unquestionably rocking a sexy bod, she proves a bit disappointing once the music starts. It seems she only feels comfortable with at least one hand (and frequently both) lifting her bump. The awkwardness and encumbrance certainly turn me on, but the accompanying limitations to her movements hurt the performance. She bobs up and down to the music, very slowly making her way around the pole. When she has a free hand, it’s grasping the pole for balance, not stroking her fun parts suggestively. As her performance wraps up, I’m certain I can do better. The announcer asks for the next participant, and I stand right up. I walk over to him and ask for “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails. My t-shirt and jeans are shed as I ascend the stairs, lack of underwear exposing the whole of me right off the bat. My bump is looking pretty good, if I may say so myself. I’m nice and round at this point, skin just beginning to look a little bit tight from my expansion. My tits rest gently just on top of my belly, and I’m still carrying high enough for everyone to get a good look at my bush. Knowing every eye in the place is on me quickly has my pussy wet, and I’m briefly nervous that the crowd might glimpse my juices running down my inner thighs. Then I imagine how I’d feel seeing such a display on another dancer, and it’s hard for me to imagine the crowd wouldn’t enjoy the view. As my song begins, I’m feeling confident and sexy. I face the pole, both hands gripping it above my head, bump pressed firmly into the metal. This position takes me through three slow rotations. I’m getting a good response from the crowd already. I turn around, back against the pole, and very slowly slide down to the floor while caressing my bump with both hands. On the floor, I lay on my side with bump and tits facing the crowd. I stroke both belly and boobs; the strokes quickly turn to gripping fistfuls of flesh. The crowd’s volume continues to rise. I slowly get back to my feet, never stopping my caresses. I face the pole again, this time wrapping my legs around it so that I can feel the cold metal on my vulva. It’s not comfortable, but the crowd’s telling me it’s hot. I can handle a bit of discomfort. For the rest of the song, all my moves are variations on what I’ve already mentioned. I try to keep all my movements rhythmic, and I think I do a decent job of the whole performance. Several of the more enthusiastic patrons (including Jarred) give me a standing ovation as I walk down the stairs. How much does it cost to get a stripper pole installed in your home? Probably less than a surrogacy pays, is all I’m saying… Month 6 I’m going to the nude beach, and I cannot believe this is the first time I’ve thought to do so. Loving to flaunt my pregnancies as I do, I feel like it’s just about the perfect place for me. Jarred loves the idea, too, but feels like he’d only be comfortable going if he were pregnant himself. I totally understand, and don’t mind another solo adventure in the least. One doesn’t show off her nudity in public just to attract the attention of her devoted husband, after all. Hoping for a decently big crowd, I decide to go on a Saturday afternoon. I grab a few beach supplies and squeeze into an uncomfortably tight bikini, knowing I won’t have to wear it for long. Womb stretched out over the course of four pregnancies (and let’s never forget those triplets!), I’ve already got quite the protruding bump as I near the end of my second trimester. My tits are voluminously milk-filled globes, two delectably firm handfuls. As soon as I enter the nude section of the beach, I’m drawing every eye I pass, even with my bikini still on. I find what I figure is just about the center of the whole nude beach and put my chair down. I unhook and drop my top, drop my bottoms, and walk toward the water. No sitting down for a while to get used to my surroundings, no hiding from the eyes I know are on me: I get right to the exhibitionism. Even once I get to the water, I only go in to my knees. Everyone can still see everything. I can feel their eyes, and I’m wet from the attention. Facing the sea, I bend over to splash some water onto my face and chest. Now everyone’s seen my bare pussy. They needn’t use their imaginations today. Facing my audience now, I let the water run down my face and tits and onto my belly, where I rub the moisture all over myself with both hands. I make eye contact with a man a few yards away, maintaining it as I add the occasional pubic and tit caress into the mix. Disappointingly, he looks away after a few seconds. If I want anything to come of my display, I’ll need to find a more hornily motivated target. I walk into slightly deeper water, the waves lapping me at crotch level. Still not hiding anything from anyone, if they care to look. I move down the beach, the cool water mixing with my hot cunt juices. A hundred feet or so to my left, a woman and man stand with the water just at their genitalia as well. I start to approach them, my bump-forward profile attracting blatant stares from the beach as I walk. Twenty feet or so away from the couple, I smile and wave. They’ve already been looking my way for half my journey towards them. They reciprocate the greeting, and I move to within ten feet or so for easy conversation. “Nice day,” I begin blandly. “How far along are you?” the woman responds, and I’m so very happy to have jumped right into a discussion of my pregnant ass. Her modest and light-nippled tits and blemish-free abdomen suggest she’s not experienced a pregnancy herself. Her partner’s practically slack-jawed, suggesting he probably doesn’t have a ton of experience with naked pregnant chicks. I’ll happily give them both a bit of the preggo experience. I tell them I’m 6 months along, approaching even closer as I ask whether they’d like to feel my stomach. The baby’s been kicking, giving me a good reason to broach having them touch me. I take one of her hands first, placing it towards the top-right area of my bump, where the kicks have been. She feels a kick and giggles in delight, pulling her hand away. I’ve got his hand on the same spot immediately after, but he doesn’t pull away when he feels a kick. His eyes go wide in amazement, and he can’t seem to pull his gaze away from my belly. I take his other hand and place it on the bottom-left, allowing his grip the entire width of my roundness. And, not coincidentally, placing his fingers just a few inches from my pubic hair. He’s too entranced to be shy about any of it. The woman seems to catch on to my forwardness, placing her hands on the available top-left and bottom-right edges of my abdominal sphere. I’ve got four hands firmly covering my bump, my own hands placed on my hips as I thrust my gut out. Forcing my bump to protrude as far as a reasonable posture will let me, I look extra big for the couple. Additionally and arousingly, the audience I can still sense looking at me from the beach is getting quite the view my impressive profile. The couple is all over my bump for a glorious five minutes. The woman finally says they should be going, bringing the man’s belly reverence to an abrupt halt. I didn’t manage to convert the encounter into any more than having a few hands in close proximity to my pussy. It was surely fun and a good show for those on the beach, but I’m left horny and holding my own bump. Probably not likely to encounter a better opportunity than the couple had been, I decide I’ve had what luck I’m going to have today. I slowly walk back to my chair, hands rubbing my belly to continue the show for all my onlookers. As I put my bikini back on and start to collect my things, a man in a speedo approaches and asks if I need any help back to my car. I smile and accept his help with my chair. Picking up on his interested vibes, I invite him into the car with me. I blow him while he massages my tits and belly, then he fingers me while I massage my tits and belly. All eyes and hands considered, I’d have to say it’s been a fruitful afternoon for my tits and belly. Month 7 I believe it’s the 7th month of pregnancy that Jarred considers his favorite, and I’ve got to agree with him. It sure does feel like the sweet spot. You’re just starting to feel gravid, but not yet knocked on your ass by your own weight and third trimester exhaustion. Horny as fuck, and with enough energy to do something about it. You’re at your roundest, before your size has started to fill out your figure in unexpected and less symmetrical directions. And your bump hasn’t quite dropped yet, so you’ve still got relatively easy genital access. All these things considered, this month I desperately want to show off to the most preggo-appreciating crowd I can find. There can’t possibly be a better crowd than at the Wednesday bar night that extends the Motherhood men’s section’s lunchtime pick-up hour. It’s a time-honored tradition Jarred and I have taken great advantage of over our many gestations. I want as many hands on my perfect belly as I can get, so I decide to present my bump for everyone’s visual and tactile pleasure. Finding an available spot, I clear away the table and its two chairs, laying myself down on the padded bench along the wall. I hike my tank top up to just below my tits, bump sticking up a solid six or seven inches from the rest of my body, two or three higher than even my engorged tits. I catch all the eyes I can, gesturing for any- and everyone to come to me and enjoy my belly however they wish. Mostly, I get a lot of gently thorough rubs, some from people awkwardly bending over, some from people kneeling right next to me. I quickly come to prefer the awkwardly bent over folks, as many of them have bumps of their own that are thrust into my face. I refrain from touching, though: I want to be the object, and I don’t particularly feel like sharing that attention. I’ve got a crowd around me in no time, people lined up to get a rub in or just take in the bare flesh in front of them. One particularly horny preggo guy must’ve noticed that my crowd obscured me from the rest of the bar, because he does not seem the least bit nervous about whipping his dick out. He’d already rubbed me thoroughly, and I’d definitely noticed he’d been hard inside his jeggings. Erect cock out and in his right hand, he strokes himself as he makes dick-to-bump contact. I’m getting so very wet. He’s not just getting off on bump contact, but really going for friction against me, getting himself a real bumpjob. I love the forwardness of it: I was hoping something more than rubbing would happen tonight, and this is fantastic. The bumpjob goes on for just a couple minutes, and he makes eye contact with me as he starts moaning with impending orgasm. I nod vigorously toward his cock and my belly, and my meaning is apparently understood: he shoots his load directly onto my bump. “Moisturize me,” are the first words I’ve spoken since entering the bar. He places both hands onto my bump, rubbing his cum all over me. Taking advantage of the view-obscuring crowd myself, I pull my tank top all the way up over my breasts. He understands me once more, and makes sure to spread the cum onto my tits as well. I’m delightfully shiny and sticky. A few more folks touch my messy bump, but it doesn’t seem like there’s going to be a repeat basting. Glad I got the one load on me, I pull down my tank top. It sticks firmly to my cum-glazed boobs and belly. I feel triumphantly slutty upon my exit. Month 8 I’m officially gravid. My belly has dropped and is truly weighing me down: I’m finding myself lugging it around with both hands much of the time. Despite my copious moisturizing, stretch marks have appeared. Milk has filled my engorged tits to a sometimes painful level. I am full-on third trimester preggo and, despite its challenges, I fucking love it! I’ve been teaching English composition at our local community college, but my increasing unwieldiness is forcing me to take a maternity leave for the last six weeks or so of my pregnancy. Before I go, though, I think I may be able to make a young man’s fantasy come true. There’s a brunette guy in my class, probably early 20s, who has not been able to keep his eyes off me for a second since the moment I started showing. Frankly, given his apparent level of interest, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d signed up for my class in particular due to my well-earned reputation for being frequently knocked up. Having caught his gaze upon my belly repeatedly, I started showing off for him. He tended to sit on the left side of the room, so I started teaching from the left side of the room. His eyes would be on my belly, so I’d arch my back in a fake stretch and stick my gut out as far as it could possibly go, rubbing a hand over it for good measure. The desks affixed to the seats covered crotches pretty thoroughly, otherwise I’m sure I would’ve been able to detect a great number of erections I’d surely inspired in him. Some of the women in the class would frequently ask me how I was doing and if they could feel the baby. I’d lift my shirt for their touches, my bare belly purposefully pointed directly at the horny young man. He’d usually be the last student to leave the room, no doubt taking in any spectacle I’d provide after class. Or, maybe not wanting to stand up in front of others while still sporting an erection. It’s my last day before my maternity leave, and I pull him aside after class to ask if he’ll accompany me to my office to discuss his last paper. He agrees, blushing at the mere thought of being alone in a room with me. Even heading to my office together, his eyes are glued to my midsection: he pays so little attention to everything else, he almost collides with three different people on the short walk. I close my office door behind us and lock it. With a huge groan, I collapse into my desk chair, lifting my shirt up as I land. I rest both hands firmly on my bump, rubbing in small circles. He’s beet red as he takes the seat next to me. “You can touch it.” I don’t even bother mentioning the paper. He can bring the topic of his writing up if he wishes, but I think we’d both rather focus on my pregnancy. I take my hands off myself to allow room for his. He scoots his chair a little closer to mine and ever so tenderly places his right hand on the side of my bump. His cock is clearly straining against the crotch of his jeans already. I take his left hand and place it firmly onto my outie navel and surrounding roundness, pushing his hand into my firmness just where the baby is. I can see his cock twitch, and I figure I might not have that much time before this guy shoots in his pants. I move his hands to the bottom of the bump, allowing him to feel the full weight of me while also putting him into alluring proximity to my pussy. It doesn’t seem like I’m going to need to bare pussy or tits for him, as the belly’s presence and mere suggestion of my other parts are going to be more than enough to get him off. “You like it, huh?” I ask, nodding to his pants. He looks down and sees just how visible his hard-on is, his face somehow turning even redder. “I...I…” He can barely get a word out, and I feel a bit bad for him. I get to it, leaning over to carefully unbutton and unzip his jeans. His cock springs up instantly, having already escaped the bounds of his boxers. Making sure my position allows him to keep both hands on my bump, I stroke his cock with one hand and cup his balls with the other. I can feel muscles starting to spasm almost instantly, and I have him stand up over me. A few strokes later he cums onto my belly, eyes ever wider at what he’s experiencing and moaning loudly enough that someone in the hall might’ve heard it. I don’t give a fuck if they did hear it: I’m doing a good deed for a burgeoning fetishist. “Rub it in,” I tell him, and he’s immediately back on my bump with both palms, massaging his seed into my skin. Shiny and pleased at my perverted self, I ask if he’d like a picture. His hand is shaking as he pulls out his cell phone. Rather than keep his awkward ass here any longer, I grab the phone and quickly get a pic of my gleaming belly. “Can we keep this between us?” I ask, and he’s nodding vigorously. He exits, leaving my doorknob sticky with the cum still on his hands. Oh, the impact you can have as a teacher! Month 9 I’m massive. Just really fucking huge at this point. Setting the triplets aside, this is far and away the biggest I’ve been with a singleton, and I’ve got another two weeks before my due date. Progressive pregnancies tend to get you bigger and bigger, so I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. I’m exhausted as all hell and can barely haul my blob of a gut around the house, but I’m also super horny being so gigantic and cumbersome. I knocked over a plant with my bump yesterday and immediately rubbed one out (with one hand lifting my tremendous belly out of the way of my cunt, of course). Hours have gone by with me taking in my enormity in front of our full-length mirror. I could stand basking in my maternal presence indefinitely if it weren’t for the fact that fatigue forces me to sit down every five minutes or so. To commemorate and share my gargantuan physique, Jarred and I have decided we should shoot a fun little porno specifically for sharing online. We’ve shot scenes for our own private reserves pretty frequently throughout our pregnancies, but it’s taking a slightly different mindset to make something I want to put out into the world. Anonymity is key for me, I think, despite my raging exhibitionism in physical public spaces. Maybe it’s the permanence of putting something online, where it will undoubtedly live on forever. So, neither of our faces will be seen. In figuring out what exactly we’d do, it quickly became clear that my colossal midsection would be a far bigger hurdle than avoiding faces. Not too dissimilar from considerations we have to take in 9th month sex in our daily lives, really. Jarred has to do basically all the work at this point, including getting my gut out of his way so he can productively access my cunt. Oral is out of the question, as you really can’t do that without showing faces (and neither of us love the blurred-out-faces method some folks opt for). All we can really figure out is for me to sit on the edge of the bed, legs spread as widely as I can spread them, hands on my ankles to help hold the legs in place. Jarred will have to use both hands to lift my gargantuan bump for cunt access, and pretty much fuck me missionary from there. We get a video we’re satisfied with on the first try, luckily for my late-pregnancy exhaustion. The product is pretty decent, we think. It’s not the most involved in terms of positions, but it’s a great showcase for the immensity and absurd unwieldiness of my 9 month belly. And that’s very much what we set out to showcase. We posted it online (sorry, not gonna say where…you’ll just have to do some research…) and have already gotten quite a few likes, which is a nice self-esteem boost. Turns out sharing your porn with the world can be a lot of fun! Epilogue I gave birth two days ago. Vaginal, easy, no big deal. I feel like I’m already recovered, honestly. Fourth time around, old hat at this point. The question arose, once again, of whether I’d get the hysterectomy now, and finally end this ridiculous parade of pregnancies. I just couldn’t get the porn we made out of my head, though. I want to do more. Much more. And probably show my face. I’m thinking I have at least one more gestation in me…and that I might like to be a Cam Girl through it. I’ll definitely keep you posted. -Annie
The Horny Sea Horse IX - Jarred, The Twinner Escort
Jarred again. To answer the most obvious (and very fair) question, yes, I do know this has gotten ridiculous. Needing to be pregnant for the 6th time may qualify me as legitimately addicted at this point. I managed to wait an entire 3 months after Annie’s last gestation to get pregnant again myself. Nevertheless, my brief experience in escorting during my last pregnancy has rarely left my mind, and I felt it necessary to do something about it (with Annie’s enthusiastic consent, of course). I feel a deep urge to explore escorting further, in what I truly plan to be my last pregnancy. Having conceptualized it as my last from before even meeting with Dr. Lucas, I decided to really go out in style. Once again, I’ve gone for the biggest parents of the baby I’ll be carrying that I could find: they’re delightfully huge people. More importantly, though…I’ve been implanted with TWINS. The positive test result and confirming doctor’s appointment happened about eight weeks ago, now. Already, twin pregnancy is proving to be significantly different from carrying a singleton, and not exclusively in positive ways. I can’t really complain to Annie, though, as her concise response to anything bothering me is pointing at her abdomen and saying “Triplets.” So, I guess I’ll be getting the complaining out of my system with you, my beloved readers. I have to see the doctor twice a month, and I hear many things about complications and potential dangers to both me and the babies. Scary stuff, but luckily I’m not a particularly nervous person when it comes to such things. The assortment of prenatal vitamins and supplements Dr. Lucas has me taking are great in both number and size. I choke on the biggest of them frequently. Far worse than these minor inconveniences are the fatigue and nausea/vomiting. Out of morbid curiosity, I counted my hours of sleep over the past week, and I’m averaging about 15 hours/day at the moment. Depressing, but I’m just so fucking tired all the time. I also counted my orgasms, which averaged a disappointing 2/day (and you know how bad that is for pregnant me!). And the fucking nausea. God, it’s unbelievable. My nine waking hours each day feel just about filled with it. I puke morning, noon, and night, but even when not actively barfing or kneeling at the toilet waiting to barf, I pretty much always feel an incapacitating level of nausea. So very much laying down, and so little relief. Hopefully my difficult symptoms will subside soon, as I really want to start the escorting soon and it just doesn’t feel possible while I’m feeling this poorly. On an awesome note, I’m hardly 2 months in and I’m already showing! Twin belly growth is crazy fast. I’ve been in maternity clothes for three weeks already, and I currently look like I’ve looked at 4-5 months with my singleton pregnancies. Nowhere near gravid yet, but the bump’s definitely there, and I’m sure heads would be turning my way if I were to go out in public. By the point I feel well enough to start advertising my availability as an escort, I imagine I’ll have an impressive enough bump not to be at all disappointing to clients looking for a pregnant hook-up. Based on my internet research, the demand for pregnant escorts is pretty high while the supply is not particularly great. Male preggo escorts seem to be in short supply when compared to females, who themselves are pretty damn scarce. I’ve only found one pregnant man escorting in my area currently, in fact, and he was nice enough to respond to the question-filled email I couldn’t resist sending him. He has more business than he can keep up with, and was actually thrilled that there might be another man offering similar services in the area. Apparently, there are more than enough eager clients out there to keep us both as busy as we care to be. My carrying twins, he pointed out, is going to be a huge asset. It makes perfect sense: pregnant escorts are rare, pregnant male escorts rarer still, and twin-carrying pregnant male escorts more or less unheard of. My beloved fellow perverts that will be receiving my services are, by and large, pretty obsessed with belly size. They’re going to fucking love my twinner ass… 23 Weeks: The Bachelorette Party A little over halfway into this pregnancy and I look like I’m well into a singleton third trimester already. Sickness thankfully having subsided, I’m digging the hell out of my rapid growth. Annie is too, and we’re fucking like crazy, about as much as I can muster considering the demands of my new job. I’ve had a great deal of clients (and WAY more requests than I could possibly accommodate) over the past seven weeks of advertising my services. The volume is crazy: there’s no way I can write about every single experience. So, just a handful of the more interesting ones are going to be recorded here. Tonight’s clients of note are the attendees of a bachelorette party. I decide on a sleeveless black bodycon maxi dress, really showcasing my tits and bump. Despite my strong instinct to go commando, I opt for bra and panties just in case I have to do some stripping. Honestly, I don’t know what to expect. In our correspondence the client refers to me as “the entertainment,” which could mean any number of things. Am I fucking everyone there? Just the bride-to-be? Is dancing expected of me? Going in, I’m excited and nervous at the number of possibilities my mind’s cooked up. There are seven ladies present, sitting on couches and chairs in a rough horseshoe shape in the living room. The blonde bride-to-be wears a sparkly silver plastic crown. They’re all holding drinks, but it doesn’t seem like any of them has had enough alcohol to loosen up just yet. Based on how awkwardly I’m welcomed in and how quiet it is once I’m standing in front of them all, I’m guessing they don’t really know what to expect tonight either. “First escort?” I ask the room, and they laugh nervously, all nodding. Ice at least partially broken, I ask if they’d like to see my belly. More nods, some more enthusiastic than others. I pull my dress up over my panties and bump, right up to the bottom of my bra. It seems like a half-measure, so I pull the dress off the rest of the way and let it drop to the floor. Their eyes all go wide: a hairy, heavily pregnant and bosomy man still seems to be quite the sight for most folks. I love the attention, and can feel the blood going straight to my cock: just another fun thing for them to stare at, I figure. I gently slap my hands onto my belly, asking if anyone would like a touch. They exchange nervous glances, then most of them are nodding and smiling. I move my way around the horseshoe, getting my bump rubbed and fielding pregnancy-related questions. They’re particularly amazed that, given the twin situation, I’m this big and hardly halfway through (join the club, ladies!). I elicit at least two gasps once I reveal that this pregnancy is my sixth, and my wife has had four of her own to boot. The numbers are indeed impressive, I must agree. The rubbings I receive are gentle and respectful, no hands even lingering near my crotch or breasts, never mind anyone sneaking in a naughty caress to my fun parts. The last of the young women to touch my bump asks the best question I could ask for: “Are you lactating?” It was too early to be lactating from this particular gestation, but Annie and I have done lactation play frequently enough that neither of us have stopped producing milk in years. My opportunity is obvious and extremely welcome, so I unhook my bra and let it drop to the floor, milky tits plopping down onto the top of my bump. Eyes go even wider. I take a few steps away from my audience (there’s potential for a splash zone, after all) and gently squeeze my left breast with both hands until drops of translucent milk drip down my knuckles and drop right onto my bump. I quickly move my hands to rub the milk into my midsection, not wanting it to drip onto the hardwood floor. Now topless and sticky-bellied, the ice has been pretty thoroughly broken for the whole room. I take a shot at pushing things further: “Has anyone ever seen a pregnant dick?” Laughter and negative responses follow. I wiggle out of my panties, stepping out of them when they hit the floor. My erection pops right up: the attention has gotten me very hot and bothered. Currently, my bump and my cock protrude almost exactly the same amount. Unsurprisingly, The next of them to rub my belly brushes the tip of my penis accidentally, apologizing immediately and profusely. “You know I’m a hooker, right?” I ask to more laughter. Emboldened, the recently embarrassed young woman takes my dick in one hand as she continues rubbing my bump with the other. I make another circuit around the horseshoe, all but one of them touching my genitals along with my stomach. A few just grab my erection for a moment, a few caress it gently, and one brunette gives me a few solid pumps, stroking expertly. Something might just happen with that one… I’m back in the center of the horseshoe, basically doing a bit of nude modeling for them. I rotate myself to give everyone a view of everything in turn, caress my bump and tits alluringly, and occasionally give my cock a pump or two. Drinks flow continuously, noticeably loosening everyone up. They seem to really enjoy the show, hooting occasionally and pointing at the more extreme parts of my physique in awe. A few minutes pass, and the young woman who’d given me those nice strokes stands up, grabs the bride-to-be’s arm in one hand and mine in the other. The three of us are abruptly in the bedroom. The brunette instructs me to lay down on my back. “I love preggos, but haven’t managed to land one before now,” she tells me as I lug my gut onto the bed. “She’s into it, too,” she gestures toward the bride-to-be, who promptly blushes and averts her eyes. “Yeah,” she says quietly to the floor. The brunette takes charge again: “Her fiancé has absolutely no interest in male pregnancy, so we kind of thought this might be her last good opportunity. But she’s shy, so I might have to get things started…” She rips off her tank top, revealing braless breasts with hard pink nipples. The jean shorts are off next: she’s evidently gone commando this evening. Fully nude, she sits on the bed next to me, touching herself as she slowly strokes me. “Not so scary,” she says to the bride-to-be as she slips a condom on me. She’s mounting me now, balancing herself with both hands on my belly. Slowly and steadily, she lowers herself onto my cock and envelops me in soft tightness. I’m going to have to think of some seriously unsexy shit so as not to bust a nut in seconds. Up and down my cock a mere dozen or so times, she’s got me right on the edge of cumming. She must feel my muscles tightening, because she knows just when to dismount. The condom is quickly removed and she finishes me quickly with her right hand. She lifts her hands to show me the cum coating them: “Would you like this on your bump? I’ve always kinda fantasized about that…” Once again, someone has accidentally hit on my favorite thing in the world without my having to even mention it. I nod enthusiastically, and she’s rubbing my load off her hands and onto me, massaging it into every inch of my belly. Happy with the resultant shiny bump, the brunette gets off the bed but keeps her clothes off for the moment. “Come on, strip,” she gently but firmly implores her friend. The bride-to-be shakes her head vigorously, obviously not up for the full experience. Not wanting to push too hard or make her friend uncomfortable, the brunette backs off and pulls her clothes back on. “Clothes or not, you’re up,” she says with a smile. She might not disrobe, but the bride-to-be does work up the courage to come over and sit next to me. “Just to let you know, I need at least 10 minutes before…” I nod towards my groin. “Oh, no, no. I really just wanted to…touch…you?” It turns into a question, and I tell her it’s totally fine. She settles in next to me, both hands rubbing my shiny bump, gently pushing into my flesh where she feels the firmness of the babies inside me. Maybe this isn’t her day for this sexually, but she’s clearly enjoying the belly in a way that keeps her comfortable. A little more forwardness is displayed when she makes her way to my tits. She squeezes both at once, producing drops of milk she promptly rubs into my bump. They’re making a very sexy mess on me, and for some reason I’m going to get paid for it! The bride-to-be really takes her time massaging my bump, because my dick soon lets me know that at least 10 minutes have passed. Refractory period apparently over, my dick’s hard as a rock via her playing with my tits and belly. She clearly notices, as her belly-touching hand rubs closer and closer to my erection, eventually starting to brush it with every circular motion her hand makes on the bump. Finally, she’s got the hand moving up and down my shaft, the milk-sticky tit-grabbing hand moving down to rub my mess of a gut. Again, she’s hit one of my favorite things in life: a hand on my bump and a hand on my cock. Her caresses of my belly remain tender even as the handjob intensifies. I just start to feel an orgasm coming on, and her hands are off me as she leans over to blow me. The blowjob lasts about 30 seconds before I feel myself starting to cum. I try tapping her on the head to let her know my orgasm is imminent, but she waves me off and I shoot right into her throat. She’s clearly collected the entire load in her mouth; she moves up the bed to my head, leans over and kisses me. A bit of the cum leaks out her cheeks and drips down my face, but she gets most of it right into my mouth. I swallow, exaggerating the action to make sure it’s audible. She has a huge smile on her face, some fantasy(s) clearly having come to life. I really, really like this job. 25 Weeks: Dinner and a Few Shows At just under 6 months in, I’m currently measuring comparably to 41 weeks with a singleton. It’s as big as I’ve ever been, according to the measurements of our bodies Annie and I have diligently kept through all 10 of our pregnancies. I briefly wonder if I made a mistake choosing the surrogacy’s huge biological parents in addition to choosing to carry twins. Then I think about Annie’s big-as-singletons triplets, and I’m humbled to consider the immensity she achieved and endured. Still, it’s hard for me to fathom another 12-15 weeks of such rapid growth. Even if I wasn’t constantly touching myself and noticing every minute detail of my changing body, I have a weekly client who keeps me informed of how incredibly different my physique is every seven days. He absolutely loves it. I have a date tonight. Not the usual euphemistic escort “date” that just means fucking, but a straight-up dinner-and-a-show date. I put on a loose blue button-down maternity shirt that can just barely contain my bump at this point, and a loose grey jacket that I’m not even going to attempt to button. Underneath it all is the lacy black maternity lingerie Annie bought for me a few months ago at the preggo convention. With the severe feet swelling that usually comes with twins, I had to go online to overnight a new pair of gigantic shoes from a specialty site. Impressing myself, I manage to get all my clothes on and fully cover my bump without any assistance from Annie. I look pretty good, I think. The client told me the restaurant she’d be taking me to, and I went there a few evenings prior to look in and see what people generally wore. My attire matches what I’d seen, so I think it’ll be okay. She’s also taking me to a regional theater company’s performance of A Streetcar Named Desire, which I think means slightly more casual attire: I’ll probably lose the jacket in between dinner and the show. We meet at a bar near the restaurant. Her name is Mary. She has long, straight black hair and a slim (but curvy in a few places...) figure. She wears an empire-waisted black midi dress with a black cardigan and black pumps. We start with a drink (Shirley Temple for me!). Mary asks me to tell her “absolutely everything” about my pregnancy. I go into symptoms, bodily changes, and how this pregnancy compares to my others. She seems to be fascinated by each and every detail I can think of to share. We head to the restaurant, an upscale Italian place. She asks me to tell her something a” little more personal,” and I describe a few of my many pregnant escapades, and tell her about the physical difficulties and encumbrances of preggo sex. This is clearly even more interesting to her, her eyes wide and darting between my bump and my eyes. Our theater seats are in the back row, and I’m sitting in the seat all the way on the left wall of the room. The back corner, in other words: a place where a bit of touching might occur with few if any potential onlookers. Or so I assume when I see where we’ve been seated. The lights are only out for two minutes before my presumption proves accurate. She undoes two of my shirt buttons, right over my bump. Her hand slips in, and she rubs and plays with my belly for a good 20 minutes. We remain undetected. Her hand comes out of my shirt and slowly makes its way down to the zipper of my pants. Having gained easy access to my cock, she goes right into my boxers and takes my ready and waiting erection into her grip. It’s the slowest and longest handjob I’ve ever received, and it’s truly phenomenal. This takes us right to intermission. I could not give you a single detail about the play that’s been going on in front of us. The house lights go up for intermission and Mary leads me by the hand back to her car, apparently uninterested in the second half of the show. We’re at her place, and she has me stand nude in her living room as she stares at me from every conceivable angle and touches me on just about every square inch of my body. She studies my body with an intensity I haven’t experienced before. It takes 40 minutes, minimum. Finally, she gets to her knees and blows me quickly. She swallows, then has me get dressed and pays me. The whole date was…idiosyncratic, I guess I’d say. I can’t tell exactly what she wanted to get out of the experience, but I really hope she got at least some of it. Mary’s a very nice lady, and it was genuinely nice to spend time with her. 28 Weeks: The Bachelor Party My bump protrudes a good four inches further than my erect cock. I’ve already gained 34 pounds; my previous high for pregnancy weight gain (with a singleton, of course) was 26 pounds. And I’ve still got 12 weight gain-intensive weeks to go! Not all the weight is going to my belly. My body is seriously filling out, with tits, hips, and ass curvier and plumper than they’ve ever been. Less excitingly, a few pounds have definitely gone to my cankles and swollen feet. And thighs. And upper arms. I’m as gravid and chubby as I’ve ever been, and I’m honestly enjoying the hell out of it. Our full-length mirror has become a close personal confidante, watching me enjoy my naked self for at least an hour each day. Annie’s hands are all over me, loving my tiny new rolls and substantial stores of fat. She loves the enormity of the bump, especially since it’s not weighing her down this time. Already she’s having to do most of the work sexually, with the majority of my efforts going toward moving the bump out of the way to allow her access to my cock. God bless her, she’s helping me multiple times a day. It’s almost as if she enjoys fucking pregnant men… I took a job at a bachelorette party a few weeks ago, so the bachelor party I was invited to was a no-brainer. It was being thrown for a gay couple, both of whom would be at the party along with eight other male guests. At the very least, I was intrigued to compare the behavior of these men to the behavior the women had displayed at their party. I’ve got a sort of sociological interest in this, I suppose. It’s not much more than a guess, but I think these guys might be a bit more forward than the gals had been. I arrive at their house 10 PM. The party’s loud from the second I get out of my car, but once I knock on the door the music and voices both go way down. Jake and Mike, the grooms, greet me at the door and introduce themselves. They’re very fit guys, as are six of the other eight I’m quickly introduced to. One of the others is tall and lanky, the other heavy bordering on obese. I find all 10 of the partygoers extremely sexy, and I hope a decent number of them are into pregnant guys. Jake and Mike are pretty quick to tell me that everyone here is, in fact, gay, so I know I’m at least near the preferred gender. They’ll all be interested in dick, but I may have to work extra hard to get them all interested in a baby bump. I don’t have to worry much about who’s going to find me attractive, as Jake and Mike are very direct with the cogent information. “We both love pregnant guys, as does everyone else here besides Greg…he just loves watching, so he’ll be easy enough to please.” I’m relieved, and more than a bit elated to be in the presence of nine (!) guys who are into my whole preggo deal. I can’t even imagine what a ten-some would look like (especially with this gigantic gut in play), so I’m guessing some people are going to have to wait their turns. I’m wearing a tube top, so I don’t even have to remove or rearrange any clothing to allow everyone to rub my bare belly. They’re way into it, several complimenting me specifically on my hairiness. I’m asked a decent amount of pregnancy-related questions (not nearly as many as the women had had for me), and am generally made comfortable with the crowd. Eventually, Jake and Mike lead me to the bedroom, closing the door behind us. Jake begins, “I know you said you were into guys, but I also realize I’ve just introduced an ungodly number of cocks into your life. What we’re basically thinking is a maximum of three guys with you at once, with you both giving and receiving lots of jerking and sucking. Can you get blown, blow, and jerk at the same time?” I let him know that this may be a first for me, but I tend to be pretty coordinated. “Everyone’s just gonna have to maneuver around my bump,” I warn, glancing down at my ridiculous protuberance. “Also,” I decide to go for it, “if you could let everyone know, cumming on the bump is more than welcome.” They both smile, tell me to get naked and lay on the bed, and exit to bring in the rest of the party. The multitude of dicks on display and variety of stroking and sucking techniques in action are downright dizzying. For at least 95% of the encounter, I’ve got the trifecta going: a dick in my mouth, a dick in my hand, my dick in a mouth. There are numerous hands rubbing and groping my bump constantly, repeatedly going as high as six hands at one time (not including my own). My bump gets it’s first load about five minutes in, and from there the cum flies onto me rapidly and seemingly without end. I usually use a hand in my blowjob technique, so with one hand occupied that way and the other jerking a second cock, I’m not able to massage the cum into my bump myself. The men around me very much take up the slack, and I feel like a fucking cum magnet. There’s far too much cum for my belly to absorb: by the time all nine interested parties have shot onto me, it’s just about time for the rotation to start over again. I lost count of belly cum shots at 22, and that was barely halfway into it. And, that figure doesn’t take into account the two orgasms I’d had by that point, both of which had their cum directed right onto my gut. For Jake’s and Mike’s sakes, I really hope they don’t care about the blanket covering the bed. I feel like an overly glazed cake, creamy frosting dripping off me in thick rivulets every inch or so around the entire diameter of my bump, pooling where my back meets the bed. I couldn’t really give you many details about specific guys, dicks, handjobs, blowjobs, any of it. It was a glorious fucking blur. Bachelor parties are far more fun than bachelorette parties, I’ve discovered. 16/20/24/28/32/36 Weeks: Impregnation I had a repeat client I began seeing two weeks into this pregnancy’s escorting adventures, and saw every six weeks thereafter until she met her goal: she wanted a pregnant man to get her pregnant. I didn’t quite know where to write about her since our meetings spanned just about the entirety of my escorting days, so I decided to put her right here in the middle of the journal. Now, I obviously had no interest in having a kid with this woman, which she naturally knew to be the case. She’d been explicit from her first correspondence with me that she’d have all the legal papers drawn up, she’d pay for a lawyer of my choosing to look them over, and we’d get everything properly notarized. For additional protection, she paid for both of us to go get STD tested, ensuring our unprotected sex wouldn’t spread anything nasty between us. I was thoroughly and completely protected as far as responsibility for pregnancy/child went, and once I’d been made confident of that, I was ready to start the fucking. I’d heard about women with fertility issues seeking out pregnant men to impregnate them, but this was my first experience with it personally. There seems to be some superstition about a pregnant man’s fertility being transferable over to the woman in question, upping her chances of conceiving. I thought it was complete bullshit, but this woman was polite, clean, and thorough in her legal work. So what the hell, I indulged her despite thinking the endeavor was pointless. Additionally, to be honest, I found the idea of impregnating someone while pregnant myself pretty fucking hot. The sex with her was vanilla and business-like. She always requests missionary with a pillow under her back, saying she read in one of her books that the penetration it allows is deeper and thus gets the sperm closer to the cervix. Also, you have gravity on your side when you’re on your back with your ass up, allowing the sperm more time deeper inside the vaginal canal. We’d fuck, then she’d call about two weeks later to tell me she wasn’t pregnant and to set up the next appointment for another two weeks from then. We’d see each other roughly once a month, always timed to be in the fertile period of her cycle. She pays well and I dig the underlying impregnation intent, but I’m still disappointed with each negative result. I want very badly to knock her up, both because I think she’s a nice person who deserves to get what she wants, and because I think it would be hot as shit to impregnate someone while pregnant myself. Annie very much agrees, and each month awaits the test result calls with anxiety. Both of us know that if/once I get this woman pregnant, I’m going to be bringing a lot of fun sexual energy back to Annie. It’s hard to imagine someone more fertile than a pregnant person who gets another person pregnant, and this idea alone is surely going to be enough to spur some serious marital sex. Through five fucks and their negative test results, I’m getting bigger and bigger and the missionary position is getting harder and harder for me. By week 32, I’m surprised the two of us manage to get my belly out of the way enough for me to enter her. For our sixth appointment (which was going to have to be my last due to my size), I have to call the client and ask if it’s okay if my wife comes to help us. I just can’t manage the bump amid missionary position without another person to hold my belly up with both hands. Annie is nice enough to do this favor for the pregnancy-hungry woman and I, and this rather chaste three-way ends up being the magic try. I’m 38 weeks along when I hear that I’ve impregnated my client. Unfortunately, it’s a little late in this massive twinner pregnancy for any kind of fucking to go smoothly, and Annie and I only manage a little bit of sexy play with the thought of the impregnation turning us on. Sucks a bit for the two of us, but I’m certainly happy to have given the woman the pregnancy she so desperately wanted. And maybe sometime after my pregnancy I could put on a silicone belly and fuck Annie, then she could go put on a silicone belly before we fuck again, as if I’d been pregnant and impregnated her. I’m grateful to have added this fuel to our lusty fires. 32 Weeks: Working with The Cock Everything’s just getting bigger and bigger, fatter and fatter, sticking out further and further in more and more directions. I’ve gained 50 pounds as of my doctor’s appointment two days ago, which is just about twice what I gained at the heaviest point of my previous five pregnancies. At my appointment to get these embryos implanted, I weighed 141 pounds. I’m at about 191 now, adding more than a third of my previous body weight. You can see it everywhere at this point. It’s especially obvious (and sexy) in my bosom: my tits are positively massive, pendulous and lined with stretch marks. Most of all, of course, is the 35 pounds or so I’m carrying in my gut. I’ve very much dropped by this point, the changed positions of the babies and the considerable weight combining to bring my belly low enough to rest right on my dick. Sex is a real ordeal at this point, though I’m still finding ways to do what’s asked of me, both at home and on the job. A woman contacts me saying she’s been searching forever for a twinner male escort, but is particularly interested in watching two twinner men “perform” for her. She asks if I know of anyone I could bring in that might not be advertising as prominently as I have been. My mind goes instantly to our good friend The Cock, who is almost constantly pregnant and not uncommonly carrying twins. I call him, and the client is very much in luck: he is indeed carrying twins at the moment, and he finds the idea of doing an escorting job very arousing. The Cock is 27 weeks into his current pregnancy, meaning his size will be a bit less cumbersome than mine. Those 5 weeks between 32 and 27 make a big size difference in a twinner pregnancy. This is a big relief, as two guys with the belly I’m packing would hardly be able to be in the same room together, never mind the complicated (and sometimes impossible) physical gymnastics of sex between two pregnant people. We decide the client will come to me, as will The Cock. He shows up first, wearing sweatpants and a tank top, both of which he promptly removes upon entering the house. “I’m too fucking pregnant for clothes,” he explains. Even flaccid, his namesake colossal dick is seriously intimidating. I know it gets significantly longer and girthier, but even without an erection he’s truly massive down there. I can’t help but stare, which makes him smile. He’s always been a much heavier man than me, certainly beginning this pregnancy well over 200 pounds. At this point, he’s probably pushing 260 or 270. His belly isn’t quite the monstrosity I’m dealing with myself, but it’s still huge, hairy, and imposingly impressive. His whole body is very filled out with fat, the parts of his torso not occupied by his bump largely taken up by rolls of flab. I love my huge belly on my relatively thin frame, but I might like his huge belly on a huge everything-else even more. He’s hot as hell, and I’m looking forward to playing with him. I disrobe too, figuring the client’s fantasy of two twin-carrying men will be well-served by our greeting her both already nude. The client shows up, wearing professional-looking but very sexy dark gray business jacket and knee-length skirt, a white button down shirt on underneath the jacket. She takes in our nudity as we open the door, and simply nods. “That’ll do,” she remarks. “I’ll be keeping my clothes on, but you won’t need yours.” I don’t know exactly what she’s got in mind, but her phrasing our date as two pregnant men “performing” springs to mind. Maybe she’s just here to give orders and observe. It’s quickly clear that it won’t be solely observation, though, as she can’t resist giving both of our bumps a thorough once-over with her hands. Satisfied with her findings, she walks straight into the bedroom, glancing back at us impatiently. We hustle after her as quickly as our gravid bodies will allow. She takes a seat on the bed. “Face me and get yourselves hard,” she instructs. Not having to be told twice, The Cock and I both rub ourselves until we’re fully erect, each of us needing to use one hand to lift our respective bellies and allow the other hand to stroke our respective dicks. Acceptably hard, we’re given her next decree: “Bellies touching, start jerking each other off.” We face each other and inch forward until our bumps are squished together enough to allow us to reach each other’s cock’s. Mine’s a lot harder to access, both because my belly’s significantly bigger and my dick’s significantly smaller. Our bellies have to be held up in order to allow the other crotch access. I’m not thrilled with this part, as I really need both of my hands in order to properly handle (and enjoy) The Cock’s…well, The Cock’s cock. The client doesn’t even touch herself, keeping her legs crossed the entire time. She just wants to watch her demands being met, it would seem. Bumps pushed together, we stroke each other for three or four minutes before getting our next order: “Smaller dick guy, get that huge cock into your mouth and suck your friend off.” I’m not offended and don’t have to be told twice, immediately getting to my knees and managing to work his colossal penis into my mouth, my belly sticking so far out that it’s pushing against his legs. I manage to move my mouth back and forth over the head of his cock and another three inches or so of shaft. Frankly, I’m surprised I’m not gagging with even this modest percentage in my mouth. I blow him until he starts to moan, at which point the client cuts in again. “Cum on his tits,” she says. I stop blowing him, taking his cock in both hands and stroking quickly. He cums a minute or so later, cock pointed right at my bosom. His massive loads have always matched his massive cock, and the cum has quickly covered my tits and begun dripping copiously onto my bump. “Big dick, lick it off.” I stand, The Cock kneels and starts licking his seed off my belly, eventually having to stand in order to lick my chest clean as well. As we finish, she points to me: “Position your cock in between the two bumps, thrusting upwards until you cum.” I have to lift a great deal of belly weight up in order to allow my penis to pop up and get in position in between us, but I manage after a bit of maneuvering. I love a good double bumpjob, and the hairiness of both bumps involved in this one is really doing it for me. Less than two minutes later, I’m shooting rope directly onto where our bellies make contact. We’re both pretty well coated. “Rub it into each other,” she commands. That one is precisely in my wheelhouse, as you well know by this point. We rub each other’s bumps until we’re both shiny and opalescent, our hands finally disengaging audibly from the stickiness. “Walk over to me.” We get to within about two feet of her, and she holds up her hands to stop us. She leans forward and sniffs The Cock’s messy bump, spending a solid 30 seconds taking in the aroma. Next, she does the exact same thing for me. “Okay,” she says as she uncrosses her legs and reaches into her bra for cash. She places the money on the bed, stands up, and walks right past us and directly out the front door. We’re left nude, sticky, and well-compensated for our time. Once again, I feel very lucky to be in my current situation. 34 Weeks: A First Experience “I’ve never done anything sexual with anyone, but I’m most attracted to pregnant men, especially ones like you with particularly large bellies. I’m not looking for anything anal. I want to start with being around a naked person, then some touching, and maybe some mouth stuff. I’d like to orgasm, and I’d like to get you to orgasm.” That’s from a message I received from an 18 year old young man last week. His age definitely weirds me out a bit at first, but he is of legal age, and I feel an odd sort of professional responsibility to take him as a client. It feels almost protective, like I want to make absolutely sure this guy’s first experience with sex goes well. If I’m exactly what he’s looking for, I think I should help him out. I have more correspondence with him than I usually have before meeting with a client, basically to make damn sure he’s a mature young man who is certain he really wants to do this. All of his answers meet or exceed my strict scrutiny, so we scheduled him to come over today. He arrives, and I check his driver’s license with extreme care, having extensively researched tell-tale signs of forgeries the night before. It’s real, and I can finally fully accept that he’s of consenting age. I don’t think the pictures I sent him did my grand body justice, as he cannot keep his eyes off my bump or keep his jaw closed. Granted, my answering the door in a barely-fitting bikini was a pretty suggestive move, and one I knew would bring me some welcome attention. I take him by the hand and lead him to sit with me on the couch. Legs spread wide, my belly stretches all the way to my knees, and rises high enough on my torso to push my bra-lifted tits up another few inches. I’m pretty chubby everywhere at this point, but I still come off as an “all belly” sort of preggo. it’s just too big for any other body part to compete with. He wanted a big bump, and he’s getting just that. He asks the standard pregnancy small talk questions, and I seem to blow his mind with my (and my wife’s) gestational history. As he seems nervous, I try to take things as slowly and gently as I possibly can. I don’t push us towards the bedroom, but rather let him bring things up in his own time. He’s scheduled for an hour of my time, but I don’t have any other commitments today and I would not at all mind giving him some more of time (no extra charge, of course). After a myriad of innocuous questions, he asks if he can touch my belly. I take one of his hand and place it on a firm, baby-containing area, pushing his palm in to emphasize the firmness. His eyes are about as wide as eyes can get. He takes his other hand and rubs elsewhere on my belly, squeezing gently in places. Now both hands are roving all over my belly, and he looks completely entranced. He grazes the underside of my right breast and immediately apologizes. I assure him that it’s completely fine for him to touch me wherever he’d like. “Would you like me to take my top off?” I ask. He would, but he’d like to take his off as well, to start to feel comfortable revealing some of himself. As I unhook my bikini top, he pulls his t-shirt up over his head and places it next to him. “Your nipples are so dark. Are you lactating?” I can sense him getting a bit more comfortable, which is great to see. I point my breasts away from him and squeeze one with each hand, squirting milk two yards into the air. He’s amazed. “You can taste it, if you’d like,” I offer. He politely declines, apparently not especially interested in the lactation angle. He does, however, take both of my tits in his hands. And without explicit verbal consent! He’s getting bolder… I feel myself getting hard as he spends a few minutes caressing my tits. I keep reminding myself that every single thing we do is a first for him, and I provide for him the time and space to take everything in to his heart’s content. He stops eventually, lowering his hands back onto my belly. They keep going lower, eventually cradling the bottom of the bump and feeling its heft as he lifts it slightly. Further down still, he brushes against my erect cock. He glances into my eyes, and I nod. He grips my shaft through the thin bikini bottoms, and it feels great. Based on the look on his face, he’s enjoying it as well. “Bedroom?” I ask quietly. He nods, and I lug my midsection off the couch and lead the way. Without prompting, he drops his jeans on the bedroom floor, leaving himself clothed only in boxers. I think he might need the intermediate step for himself before fully baring himself, so I go ahead and drop my bikini bottoms first. My cock sticks straight out, but is ridiculously dwarfed by my bump, probably by seven or eight inches at this point. We’re both still standing, and he approaches to take my unclothed dick in his hand. I lift my belly out of his way with both hands, and he starts caressing gently, gradually shifting into stroking me up and down. His hands are soft, and I love a nice slow handjob. “Is it okay if I lay down?” I ask, suddenly and intensely fatigued from standing for several consecutive (massively preggo) minutes. I lay on the bed, and he sits next to me, continuing to stroke my cock with one hand as he grips my flabby bump with the other. I’m getting close to cumming, so I ask him if he wants to finish me this way, or maybe try his mouth, or maybe get his own dick out for some play if he’d rather climax. “I’ll finish you with my mouth, I think.” He sounds nervous again. “Whatever you want to do, it’s totally fine,” I assure him. “Well…I…was kind of hoping to…well, swallow.” I smile and nod. He straddles my legs and leans over, taking my cock in his mouth while still allowing himself two-handed access to my bump. It isn’t long before I feel the orgasm coming on, and I shoot in his mouth just as he wants. He struggles to keep it all in, some of the load escaping and dripping back down my shaft. Accepting that he’s not getting every drop on his first go, he lifts his head up and I see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows my cum. “Wow” is all he seems able to get out. “Good?” I ask. He nods enthusiastically. “Can you do me now?” he asks, nerves still evident in his voice. I have him remove his boxers and kneel right next to me, his erect dick within both mouth and hand range for me. Taking him into my hands tenderly, I stroke slowly while cupping his balls. His moans start instantly. I lean over to get him in my mouth, not wanting a quick ejaculation to rob him of part of the experience. My blowjob technique has gotten quite good over the years, and I feel his body prepare for orgasm after no more than 90 seconds. I lift my head for a moment: “Do you want to cum on my bump?” Eyes widen, head nods quickly. He scoots over to get himself right over my mountain of a belly, and I start stroking him quickly. A moan-filled minute later, I’ve got his load on me. “I can rub it in, or you can,” I tell him. “You, please,” he replies, eyes glued to his cum on a hairy pregnant belly. I rub slowly with both hands, spreading opalescence across the entire vast expanse of my bump. “Oh my god,” he mutters. This will probably be masturbation fuel for him for years to come. I’m proud of him for giving all this a shot, and proud of myself that I was able to so gently usher him into the world of preggo sex. We’re always recruiting, after all. 39 Weeks: Belly Worship I’ve now gained 72 pounds this pregnancy, putting me at a hefty 213. The weight continues to distribute itself all over my body. Bump growth still stands out, though, as the babies very rapidly gain weight in the final weeks of gestation, and I’ve become nearly immovable with the cumbersome and burdensome growth protruding precariously from my center. Full term for a pregnancy with twins is 37 weeks, and babies are rarely carried past that. I’m at 39 weeks presently, and my C-section isn’t scheduled until next week. My size still can’t compare with Annie’s at the height of her carrying triplets, but I am very substantially bigger than I’ve ever been, and maybe even a bit bigger than I really cared to be. The extra weight and massive dimensions of my body were intriguing and sexy for the majority of this twinner experience, but they’re now losing out to exhaustion and the near-impossibility of moving. I go to deactivate my accounts where I’ve been posting ads for my services online, thinking there’s no way I’m turning any more tricks in my current state. There’s a message entitled “Belly Worship Ceremony” that really stirs my imagination, though. Three women want to spend time rubbing, oiling, and generally enjoying the presence of my massive bump. I send a reply, telling them that I’m up for it if they’re okay with coming to me, as I am functionally immobile. I’ll be able to lay nude on a bed for them, but I can make no further promises. This is apparently exactly what they wanted to begin with, and you can practically read their excitement between the lines of our further correspondence. I give them a time and tell them I’ll leave the door unlocked: bedroom’s the last door on the left. The time comes, and I’m completely naked on the bed waiting for them. I hear a few knocks from the front of the house, and someone shouts “We’re here!” to make sure I’m aware of their presence. “I’m in the bedroom!” I shout back. They appear in the doorway, their necks and faces visible to me above my view-obscuring belly. All in their mid-30s, I would guess. They don’t take any of their clothes off. They all sit close to me on the bed so as to have easy hand-to-bump access. Various lotions, oils, and ointments are presented. Working together, they massage one substance into me fully before moving on to the next. I’m glad there are three of them, because my mass requires more than a few hands for full coverage at this point. First was baby oil, I think, next a shea butter lotion by the smell of it. I can’t place the third ointment by feel or smell, but it leaves me very shiny even once it’s been largely absorbed into my skin, which I very much appreciate. After a fourth and fifth cream are rubbed into me, one of them asks if they can have some of my cream. I get their meaning, immediately applying all my strength and limited agility to moving my belly out of the way of my crotch. As I hold myself in place and out of their way, they take turns slowly stroking me. All the belly rubbing already had me all hot and bothered, and I’m honestly surprised all three got a turn to jerk before I start to cum. They angle my cock straight up into the flesh of my underbelly, and I shoot a sizable load onto myself. Resuming their positions surrounding my bump, they rub the cum in fully, adding the semen’s translucent white opalescence to my already shiny belly. That’s pretty much the end of it: they leave the cash on the nightstand, leave me glowing naked on the bed, and let themselves out of the house. I don’t really know what that was all about, but I enjoyed myself nonetheless. Some sort of fertility ritual, maybe? Do they wish to become pregnant themselves, and hold some superstitions about communing with the presently gravid to improve their own chances of conception? Are they just a few like-minded friends who enjoy the pregnant form but don’t want to get too hardcore with an escort? I’ll arrive at no conclusion, and I’m sure I won’t hear from these clients again. The mystery makes it all the hotter, though. Epilogue: Finished. Three days ago, I delivered the twins via C-section. A boy weighing 7 lbs 7 oz, a girl weighing 7 lbs 10 oz (average twins are born at around 5 lbs 8 oz, for comparison’s sake). Along with the C-section, Dr. Lucas performed a procedure I’ve long been avoiding: I got a hysterectomy. Returning to a uterus-free life, my pregnant days are officially over. I’m officially done being pregnant myself, anyway. Annie has another pregnancy in her, I’m almost positive. I’d put a decent chunk of change on her getting knocked up within the next 6 months. So, our family isn’t quite finished with gestation just yet, even if I won’t carry again. Even once Annie’s done, though, I think pregnancy will remain a large part of our lives, both socially and sexually. We’re far too obsessed to stop associating with and fucking preggos at just about every opportunity. I need a little recovery time from my surgery, but the Motherhood men’s section’s Wednesday lunchtime pick-up hour will always be there for me when I’m ready. And you can bet your ass I’ll get myself ready soon. | |||||||||||||||||||
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