Even with her breasts pulled heavily down, her
cleavage aroused me. Her dress was too short, her
sauntering walk in the August heat too inviting for
a mother. When we were finally alone, I told her I’d
never seen a pregnant lady naked.
‘I would feel so much better that way…it’s so
hot…’, she responded; so we both worked to peel off
the awkward clothes. Her breasts, no longer re-
strained, hung full, almost touching the swollen belly.
Her nipples were dark and very large, and grew instant-
ly erect when the cool air touched her perspiration.
I touched one of them.
‘They’re so sensitive..’, she invited, and I tasted
it gently. We fell on the couch. When I touched her
thigh, she lifted her leg. Her pussy was dripping.
She had an almost perverse fascination for her sex
parts. She told me how she likes to watch herself
masturbating in a large mirror, and how it arouses her
to watch the contractions of her vagina and anus when
she came. That, she explained, was how she had gotten
pregnant: alone one day, she had decided to spend it
with herself and her clitoris.
She had relaxed all day, and then unplugged her
phone and taken a very hot leisurely bath. The
steaming water had made her feel she was in a different
world, floating warm and safe, far from reality. She
titillated herself with delicate strokes of her finger-
tips across her nipples and her belly as she shaved her
underarms, her legs, and all of her pubic hair. She
liked to see herself as naked as she could, and so
regularly shaved herself as completely as possible,
even becoming quite expert at the area around her anus,
which she could manage only by touch. When the water
began to cool she had toweled off, slowly massaged body
oil into as much of herself as she could reach, coated
her vaginal and anal area liberally with heavy oil,
wiped her hands and spent some time brushing out her
hair.
She lay back on a stack of pillows on her bed,
facing a large mirror, with a large drink. She had a
lamp that cast a spotlight on the area between her
legs, warming it as well. The bath and the oil made
her skin feel very soft and sensitive, and the steady
drone of the air conditioner blotted out all noise.
Usually when she masturbated she would fantasize,
but now she felt comfortable with herself, and wanted
to feel her own fingers stroking the silky smooth outer
lips of her vagina slowly up and down, pressing a bit
on each trip as they passed over her clitoris.
Presently in the mirror she saw the lips begin to
pout and then to part slightly. Her loins began to
tingle and she could feel herself lubricating. She
propped her head with the pillows so she could relax
completely while watching the source of the pleasure
she was feeling. She paused to squeeze one of her
nipples very hard, and noticed the subtle movement of
her vagina that accompanied the throb she felt. She
did it again, and a droplet of her moisture began to
trail down toward the pink of her naked anus. She
pulled the lips apart with both hands, causing her
erect clit to stand out, throbbing visibly as she
tugged.
She began to stroke and squeeze the area just above
her clitoris very gently, rewarded with one throb for
each stroke. She watched her inner lips begin to swell
and pout. The trail of moisture had reached the en-
trance to her anus; she took pride in the quantity of
liquid she was generating.
Now, with a dollop of Vaseline on her middle finger
she began to rub back and forth across the upper part
of her clit, pressing more firmly as she became more
aroused. She lay her head back, luxuriating in the
comfort as the tingle grew in her loins, welling
stronger, until her vagina had begun to blossom open
in the crescendo before orgasm.
It spasmed hard in one of those cums that left her
still tingling, letting herself down still rubbing
slowly, holding one of her soft breasts in her other
hand. The need was still there, and soon she had her
vibrator pressing next to her clit, bringing her toward
another climax, and then another.
She worked on herself until she felt drugged,
lethargic after hours of masturbating and many orgasms.
When one of the local boys had walked in unannounced,
she hadn’t even tried to stop him.
—————–
Now, she felt at peace, languid on warm summer
days, and the small movements within would comfort her.
Sometimes on a weekend she spent all day in gentle
orgasms. In the morning, we would eat without ever
getting dressed, her swelling belly almost resting on
her thighs. She ate slowly, tasting every mouthful;
then we would lay together, touching, kissing, teasing
our bodies and slowly making love.
Once she started, it took only warm words and
gentle pressure on her clitoris to produce several
throbs. She lay on the couch listening to the stereo
while I worked, stroking herself to the slow music.
Sometimes I just sat and watched her lovely nude
vagina and anus, squeezing every so often to her
touches.
I’d come by, lean over and kiss her to a few
throbs, and she would take my penis in her mouth to
run her tongue around the head until it began to swell.
She just lay in her juices; it would crust her buns,
and when I came, my semen stayed where it landed in a
trickle down her chin and neck as she swallowed.
In the evening I brought dinner to her. Eating
reminded us of the delicious things we’d tasted, and
after eating she continued her mild orgasms. They
were heavy, lazy, and her nipples barely showed the
erection of her earlier orgasms.
After dark, I finished the chores while I watched
her slowly press a dildo at her pussy until it was
swallowed completely. I could see her contract on it
as she eased it in, and my penis was again aroused. I
stood over her to have it sucked full hard while she
pushed the dildo with her heel, her hips slowly
heaving.
The climax of our climaxes was a long, slow love-
making. We’d get comfortable and I’d slide into the
wet and tired pussy in place of the rubber surrogate.
As we rocked together, she would squeeze one of her
nipples and one of mine, and I would do the same. Our
identity had so merged that the distinction had blurred
between making love and masturbating.
We were lying on our sides, so she was able to take
the lower breast in both hands. She squeezed the puf-
fed aureole with her thumbs and a squirt of milk ran
over her hand. As she shifted more to her back to lick
it from her hand I leaned forward to suck the swollen
nipple. A small quantity of milk flowed, and it made
her hotter. “The other”, she whispered, and I repeated
what had been done, tasting her warm, somehow familiar
milk. Now she began to milk the breast in earnest,
pulling with both hands.
Hot streams of milk washed my chest, and I could
feel her pussy contract on me as her hands urged milk
from the nipple. Timing my thrusts to her tit-milking,
we brought her to the brink, and held her there for
many seconds. With wide eyes, she pressed her clit
to me, using me to stimulate herself when needed,
holding the cum just on the edge as her vagina slowly
expanded in the wind-up before orgasm. When finally
it contracted on my penis my orgasm was triggered,
sending hot streams of semen to mix with her juices
and leaving us with eyes closed, wallowing in a mixture
of our secretions, feeling one another’s fading throbs
as she pressed her belly and breasts to me, holding me
tightly in her arms.