9:20 a.m. on Thursday morning and I’m still in something of a dilemma. I’m at home, finished work and on maternity leave. My pregnancy had been going well overall not that I had anything to compare it with. I have kept up my fitness: gym and Pilates and am eating healthily as the bump grows. I am definitely coping.
I haven’t had all the cravings I’d heard about apart from one week where I did have a bit of a binge on chocolate. I think my husband wished my craving had lasted longer as I treated his cock as a fondue on a couple of occasions licking the delicious chocolate off his equally delicious dick. He had the cheek to complain the chocolate was a bit too warm the first time, (you just can’t please some people!) but messy as it was there were two well satisfied parents to be at the end of it. I christened it a ‘Caramel Pole’ – not sure if it’s something Cadbury could market!
That was a bit of a one off on the sex front to be honest as I wasn’t interested in the first few months with my libido at an unusually low ebb and then in the last week when my appetite has definitely come back my husband said he was concerned about the baby but apparently still happy for me to give him hand and blowjobs. I wasn’t completely convinced by his excuses to be honest as he’s not lacking in size but he’s not going that far up me! I think it was probably more to do with my current shape and that isn’t going to get any more svelte like in the next few weeks.
Last night I was at one of our ante-natal classes, we have been going for a few weeks now but unfortunately the other half is working away this week, so it was me on my ownsome. It was fine as we’d made friends with a few couples. I was looking forward to this class as there was a practical session on birthing balls (think space hopper without the handles) and though I’d bought one I hadn’t used it that much. What I didn’t realise until I got to the class was that this session was intended to show the exercises where my husband could support me. Ah, bit of a problem there, no husband.
Fortunately, Gemma one of the other ‘mums to be’ kindly offered me the services of her husband, Oliver. We had chatted in the previous weeks, and I got the impression Gemma wasn’t completely into the whole process. This was her second child, but she was still working and spent more time on her phone and emails then participating in the sessions. I think the description ‘driven woman’ nicely captured Gemma. Oliver was, well Oliver was cute, dishy (do people still use that term?), fit (not that I had noticed him much, you understand). He was what I would call a surfer dude, dirty blond hair, tanned and really laid back. The polar opposite of Gemma. He was also looking after their 2-year-old daughter full-time whilst Gemma worked and would be doing the same with their second offspring.
Obviously, I declined the offer, but Gemma was insistent and said she had calls to make. She explained that she knew all the exercises anyway and Oliver was in his element with pregnant women and very good with his hands. Well, I wasn’t going to refuse a second time so as Gemma wandered off outside to make some phone calls Oliver and I commandeered a ball and listened in. There were some good suggestions and ideas from the instructor so I could see the benefits to using one. I could also feel the benefits. Gemma wasn’t wrong about Oliver being good with his hands. He had a strong firm grip but a real lightness of touch that certainly felt good even through a layer or two of clothing. His sweeping hands were supporting me as I worked through some squats and then into various hip squeeze exercises. These were quite intimate at times; well Oliver made them so. I could feel him grinding into me as I worked the ball on all fours and when he sat on the ball with me on his lap. The tutor came round offering tips and suggested Oliver move back from me a little bit, but I was more than happy with the proximity of his body and the positive effect it was seemingly having on both of us.
I was certainly flushed and warm when Gemma returned, partly through embarrassment but probably more from arousal. I’d certainly got my libido back in the last few days and this session was sending it sky rocketing. Oliver was smiling so I was sure we’d both enjoyed it. Gemma went over to chat to some other people and Oliver slipped me a card and said, “Call me if you want a chat or …… whatever.” I wasn’t sure but took the card and slipped it into a pocket.
When I got home, I was still feeling good and as I lay in bed couldn’t help but have a little self-play. A couple of small orgasms later I reached over for Oliver’s business card and against my better judgement sent him a quick text, ‘b gd 2 catch up 4 ‘whatever’. He responded almost straight away, and we swapped texts for the next 10 minutes or so.
So here I am, it’s now 9:29 and my dilemma is still not resolved.
A ring of the front doorbell and I am fully back in the here and now. No more time to think, just go with the flow. I answered the door and there is Oliver; fit, fuckable and bearing a gift. A tin with cakes apparently that he had made earlier (in case we got hungry). I was already hungry, but it wasn’t for cakes! Still, a nice thought and something to chew on in the interval, maybe.
I invited him into the lounge and introduced him to Belinda. He smiled and said: “Hello Belinda, nice to meet you.” Belinda, as usual said nothing, well to be honest I would have been concerned if she had because as far as I know they haven’t got around to developing birthing balls that talked, yet. I apologised for the naming thing but when you get intimate with somebody or something I think it’s good to put a name to it.
I was keen to get started so I didn’t get cold feet and asked Oliver if I should take my dress off. “No,” he said. He laughed at my startled expression and added, “That’s my job.” Phew I thought I’d completely mis-read the script there for one moment. He slowly slid the zip down the back of my dress easing it off my shoulders, taking the opportunity to plant little kisses across my back as he did so. Goosebumps were rising all over me and the dress hadn’t circumnavigated my bump yet. As he helped the dress journey to the floor, I felt his warm hands sweep round over my bump a few times before moving up to capture my swelling boobs. Encased in the most flattering bra I owned he gave them a gentle squeeze and I was already groaning. His dextrous hands quickly removed the barrier to my fleshy tits and as he squeezed and pinched my oh so sensitive nipples, I came, and quite hard. Euphoria and relief washed over me. I needed that even though I’d already cum twice in bed earlier thinking about how the day might pan out. Somehow it always feels nicer when it’s someone else giving them to me.
Now only ‘dressed’ in lacy knickers, I looked around at Oliver and caught his lustful eyes. I realised in that moment how much I had missed that look over the past few months. That was going to be my husband’s loss because his temporary replacement looked more than ready to give me what I urgently needed.
“Get on the ball then, that’s what we’re here for isn’t it?” my guest cheekily suggested. I lowered myself into position over Belinda and waited as I heard Oliver quickly disrobe and then felt him kneel behind me. The warmth of his now, near naked body against me almost started me off again as I felt him press close against my arse and reach around to start caressing my hips and slowly squeezing my bump from the sides as he manoeuvred me around Belinda. This was seriously sensual stuff. I was in heaven already and he’d only been in the house 10 minutes. His sweeping strokes over my breasts, my shoulders, my back, my bump were sending sparks off inside me in all directions. Goodness knows what the baby thought was happening, probably thought it was caught in an electric storm!
My tits were leaking all over Belinda and at one point I apologised to her which brought a chuckle from behind me. Oliver’s hands were now doing wonderful things to the cheeks of my arse and another satisfied groan left my lips as I felt his hands slide into my soaking underwear to continue his exploration. “God, you’ve got a fantastic arse on you,” he said. “Nearly as good as your legs.” I was pleased to receive the compliment as it had taken a lot of hard work to keep in decent shape over the past few months. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that it wasn’t partly because he wanted to keep me sweet so he could shaft me, but he already knew from the way my body was reacting to his touch that I wasn’t going to be throwing him out anytime soon.
He slowly eased my knickers down to my knees and I now had nothing to soak up the juices that were leaking from my swollen pussy. I felt the first drops running down my inner thigh, but my guest saved the carpet by running his fingers back up and collecting my juice and getting his first taste. “Better than my smoothie earlier,” he said. I heard him pull his underwear down and then the feeling of his hot meat rubbing over my arse and up over my back as he rolled me and Belinda around. By the feel of his cock, he was adding more wetness to the party. Not too much yet I hoped as I had plans for where that cock needed to go.
The action was certainly going up a notch now as he squeezed, pulled, pushed and caressed me to the brink time and again. He seemed to have worked me out really quickly and was able to keep me from tipping over the edge again by slightly easing off on the pressure and stimulation. “Can I fuck you?” he whispered in my ear. I bloody hoped so having got this far, I was gagging for it, but I tried to keep some self-respect and merely nodded, adding a quiet, “sure”.
He pushed me slightly further over Belinda and then I felt him nudging at my entrance before a gentle push and he slid in, slid right in, right in with one simple push. How embarrassing to be so wet and ready and from the feel of it wasn’t as if he was small. Blame the pregnancy was my first thought but embarrassment soon gave way to more carnal thoughts as he started to move in and out of me with purpose. I wasn’t sure yet what his cake making skills were like, but his fucking skills were certainly up to the mark. He knew how to vary pace and angle that was for sure. I hoped Belinda was enjoying it as much as I was but soon the pace was getting too much and as he pulled me back onto his pulsing shaft, I pushed her away across the room so I could get my hands on the floor to gain some better purchase to push back against his now frantic thrusts. We were in full swing now (well my tits were which was a novelty for me as my ‘normal’ tits are perky at best). Today they are swinging around like pendulums.
That lovely squelching sound of fucking was coming from our colliding bodies, and I dreaded to think of the mess we were making on the carpet but that was only a fleeting thought because my mind was on the prize now. Orgasm number four of the day duly arrived with more gasping and panting from us both before I felt the exquisite expansion of his cock and then his hot spunk jetting up inside me. Wow, that had been great and worth the wait, I think. Yes, definitely worth the wait.
We stayed in position for a couple of minutes, still gasping for air as he gently caressed my now aching body. I felt his cock deflate and then pop out followed by the flow of our mixed juices (more cleaning!). I moved away sitting back against the sofa not daring to sit on it in my current leaking state. Oliver moved over next to me, and we cuddled and chatted. It was a nice post coital chat. He explained a bit more about how he came to be the stay-at-home dad. Gemma had her own successful business and was totally focussed on work. Loved it, got a buzz from it. He joked she’ll still be sending emails as she went into the labour ward. Having seen her at the ante natal session, I could believe it.
He went and got the cake tin and offered me one of his cranberry and orange muffins (very tasty – just like the baker). He jokingly said there were plenty of benefits in the way it worked out for them. He loved spending time with his daughter and was happy looking after the house, enjoyed cooking and got to spend time with plenty of yummy mummies. He winked. I imagined I wasn’t the only one to get a taste of his muffins or his cock. Not that I’d had a taste yet. So, if the muffins were a sort of appetiser, I was keen for the main course.
I stroked my fingers up his thigh, gently scratching with my nails as I went. Rubbing over his slippery balls, and along his sticky shaft. I was soon getting the response I required and wiping the crumbs from my lips I leaned over to get a closer look and first taste. As I did so my tits came back to life and started dribbling so I directed them over his crown and rubbed them gently around before watching the milk slowly flow down to his balls and onto the carpet (even more bloody cleaning). Leaning right down I was able to rub my leaking tits up and down his shaft and had him fully hard in no time. He certainly got off on pregnant women (maybe he got off on women in general, but I was happy with the response I was getting). My mouth was watering, so I moved in for a taste; my juice, his cream, my milk – a slightly different cocktail to my usual tipple but I was soon sucking and licking away happily.
I wanted our second fuck to be face-to-face so slowly manoeuvred myself onto his lap enabling me to watch his reaction as I slowly, oh so slowly this time, slid my way down onto his lovely cock. As I hit the bottom, I leaned my hands back on his legs so he could see how he had filled me up. He cupped my tits and brought me back up so he could take them in his mouth: first the left then the right. He was having a good old suck and seemed to be getting a fair bit of milk from each. I felt guilty that in my distracted state I had forgotten to get him the coffee I had made earlier. I guess he had worked up quite a thirst from the earlier fucking and it was certainly doing some nice things to me. I tried to concentrate so I could ride him, but he gently held me still, telling me not to rush. He stroked my stretched belly, running his hands down over my thighs and round to cup my arse. He had a lovely soft touch, almost ticklish but very sensual. I bet the yummy mummies were queueing up to get some of him.
“Take your time and start to move now”, he said as he continued his lovely sweeping caresses. I rose up gradually and then moved into the squat position we had tried at the ante natal class last night though now it was way more enjoyable, naked, riding a cock rather than a rubber ball. I got into a slow, semi controlled rhythm as I rose and then fell right back to the root of Oliver’s cock, a quick grind and then back up for another and another.
If all exercise classes were like this there wouldn’t be spare room in any gym in the UK. My breasts were still getting hand and mouth action from Oliver and milk was still being squeezed from my nipples. They were so sensitive, more so than I could ever remember, this was leading to more juice and cream leaking from between my legs. A pinch and then a sharp pull on my nipples saw squirts go all Oliver’s chest and set me off for orgasm number 5 of the day.
I fell forward onto Oliver’s now slippery, milky chest as I panted and sucked in recovery breaths. He stroked me as I rested but I felt him flexing his cock inside me as if to remind me he still had unfinished business. I was aware and gave him a knowing smile. I began squeezing my pelvic muscles as I rose a few inches up his shaft and that got the complimentary groan I was hoping for. I began rotating my hips as if stirring his cock in my churning channel, keeping tight. A few deep breaths and I was ready for my finale and hoped it would be enough for him. One, two, three, four, five, six rapid rise and falls and the groans got louder, and I sensed a first pulse. To be on the safe side seven and eight followed quickly and I knew he was ready to blow, and he did. It felt great (he sounded like he agreed) but I think I was just too bloody exhausted to get myself off again. I wasn’t going to complain though. I almost fell off him in exhaustion as the familiar trail of our mixed juices exited from between my legs. Normally I would be happy to provide my platinum level cleaning up service but today I was just too knackered.
A couple of minutes later I heard “Oh shit, look at the time”, from my lovely guest. “I’ve got to go, sorry, got to pick my daughter up. Fuck.” There then ensued a frantic dressing session and him tripping over Belinda as he made a hasty exit from the room. He was putting his shoes on at the front door as he shouted. “So sorry to leave like this, but I’ll text or call you later. That, ok? I was still sprawled up against the sofa in a totally dishevelled state and shouted out, “whatever.” I heard him laugh at that and then the front door bang shortly followed by a car speeding off.
Wow, where does the time go when you’re having fun. I looked at the mess and groaned (but with a smile). As I gingerly clambered to my feet in search of my discarded clothes, I noticed the empty cake tin and grinned. Excellent, a good excuse to pop round to see Oliver at some time and perhaps I could return the favour. I’m sure he’d like a taste of my chocolate cupcakes with a dash of breast milk to add to the flavour.
