Internet Belly
After the clients had gone, I was wrapping the equipment for a still photo shoot of pregnant lingerie for an online catalog, when a tight-faced woman returned to the main studio from my little dressing room, nodded brusquely, and left me alone with my equipment and the model, named Jenny something, who was back there changing to street clothes. She was a fresh, perky, very young girl – the kind that women accept and many men don’t always notice. Today her belly was evidently pregnant but still too modest to offend delicate customers. After 20 minutes, I figured she was taking a lot of time, even for a fashion model, and I wanted to close up, so I went back and tapped on the dressing room door.
No answer. She was probably on her cell phone – models always were – so I put an ear to the door to check. I heard sobbing inside. A bit worried, I knocked louder.
After a long time, the door opened and she came out, dressed in anonymous sweats, knuckling under her red eyes and snuffling. When I asked what was the matter, she shook her head and started weeping again – with shudders and long, silent gasps and rivers of tears down her soft young cheeks.
When I put an arm around her shoulders, she didn’t shake it off, so I led her into the studio. “Come on, now, something big is wrong. Please tell me.” I walked her toward the loveseat in the clients’ area and sat down with her.
While she got control of her tears she studied my face: 27 years old, straight, not handsome, but women don’t scream when they see me either. Then, after two false starts checked by hiccups, she said, “That was my rep.”
“From the modeling agency.”
A nod. “She came to tell me there wouldn’t be any work for at least six months — maybe eight. And I’m not quite five months gone!” When I looked puzzled, she added, “She said my belly was getting too big…” she pulled her sweatshirt up and the pants down. Her sweet pink bulge looked luscious to me. “…and it’d take two-three months to get my body back after.”
Knowing what freelancing was like, I winced. “Ooh.”
“Yeah, ‘ooh.’ I had to give up my apartment today; now all I got’s a ten-year old Suburu filled with clothes and kitchen crap and no place to put it — or me.”
“Um, what about the father?”
Her lips compressed into a crooked line as she shook her head.
“Okay; it’s okay.”
“No it’s not.” She leaned into me and started sobbing again.
I held her for several minutes, noting the clean smell of her hair. I also noticed the two sizable hills of her breasts below and the obvious bulge of round belly below them. I told myself sternly that it didn’t matter that she was warm and soft. She was in a bind. After some thought I said, “Look: my apartment upstairs has an empty bedroom — only one bath, but we could work that out. I mean, if you’ll trust me.”
She studied me some more while sniffing and wiping her nose with an index finger. “Are you gay?” Surprised, I just shook my head. “Lots of photographers are, you know.”
I shrugged. “No, I’m straight. You think I might take advantage?”
She gave me a watery smile and shook her head. “Not this way, anyhow.” She placed a palm on her belly button, still recessed at this stage. “Well, maybe just for tonight and… a day or two – I hope.”
“The plain truth is, I do find pregnant women sexy, but that doesn’t change our situation.”
Suddenly shy, she covered her bulge again. Then she looked at me and something like a silly little smile broke through. “Okay… Roomie.”
An hour later, she was set up in the other bedroom of my airy, second floor flat. She inspected the place, noting the nice furnishings and décor. “Sure you’re not gay?”
That remark was insulting, whether to gay guys or me, but I only shook my head. “My girlfriend moved out six months ago.” I pointed at a big color nude of mine on the wall: a svelte woman with long hair and a slender shape.
“Ex?” I nodded. She deliberately looked away from the picture. “Nice views.” The 12-foot ceiling of the studio below raised my apartment higher than most two story buildings around me, so my big windows framed the ocean and sunset to the west and the last gasp of the Hollywood hills to the north.
* * * *
Jenny bustled cheerfully through the following week as if to pay rent by cooking and cleaning and re-arranging furniture and décor to make improvements a male couldn’t see (except that the nude of my old girl friend somehow retired to a closet). But then her good mood gave way to gloom again. At one of her very good suppers, she sighed and said, “I’m stuck, Jack. Even with you buying the food, I’m dead broke. I can’t pay my cell phone bill or credit card interest. Worse than ‘stuck,’ I’m screwed.”
I nodded. “You know, I’ve been thinking about that.” In the previous days, I’d found myself preoccupied with my new roommate. When not posing for a catalog, Jenny was no longer bland and ordinary. Her mobile face was beautiful, her brown eyes sparkled, and her smile had an impish, provocative quality. Her long-limbed body was way too curvy for fashion modeling, but she carried her round belly proudly, with a model’s grace. I often saw it because she was casual about clothes, traipsing to the bathroom in bra and skimpy bikini panties that rode beneath her swollen gut. The effect was hard to describe, but… well, try it this way: the Playboy 50th anniversary playmate collection had just been published – it was then 2004 – and I’d naturally studied the women (strictly as a professional, of course) all 600 of them. Though gorgeous, they had a sort of vacant, Barbie look to them – that is, all but maybe a dozen. These women had faces that showed individuality: brains and personality, and sometimes a wry look that said, “Go ahead and drool, but there’s more to me than just pussy.” That’s what Jenny’s face and body radiated. The girl was unique.
One morning, she waltzed topless to the breakfast table and asked me to do the hooks on the bra in her hand. Her breasts weren’t 44 JJ udders, but still impressive – at least 38D – thrusting upward and crowned with puffy nipples. (No wonder she couldn’t do high fashion jobs.) They swung enticingly as she bent over to drop them into her waiting bra cups, and this unthinking action was somehow as erotic as if she’d cupped her boobs and offered them to me. Though she was clearly making no attempt to come on to me, she was having the same effect, and I kept back as I did her hooks to keep the quick bulge in my pants away from her.
Then that night at the supper table, I told her my idea. “Ever done any glamor – nude work?”
Jenny grinned, “Like your girl friend?”
“Ex girl friend. No, sexier.”
She looked thoughtful. “You mean porn?”
“Well, erotic, but no hard-core.”
“Hm. Weeell, I could give it a shot,” she patted her belly, but not now.”
“I mean now: for the next four months.”
When she goggled at me, I rose from the table. “Let me show you.” Jenny followed.
In 2004, internet porn sites were well-established, but with maybe one-fifth of the number now. There was still room for a new one showcasing pregnant Jenny. At my desk, I pulled a few up and reviewed some pay sites with her. “See? Just like product shooting, but the product is you.”
She looked at the screen with one of her funny smiles. “Hm. What would I have to do?”
In short, she was up for it, so I explained my plan: four months of intensive shooting, mostly studio or here in my flat. A pay site that I could build, cheap hosting, and a PayPal account. We’d shoot enough stills and video in 16 weeks or so to get material for at least two years, maybe more. I figured several thousand dollars income eventually.
“But my belly’s growing every week.”
“The bigger the better, kiddo.”
A new idea: “But how long is ‘eventually,’ and what do I do ’til then?”
“You stay here. I’ll advance you enough for your outstanding bills and some walking around cash. By the time the baby comes you’ll have enough to pay me back and pay for it too. By the way, is ‘it’ a he or a she?”
She shrugged and looked guilty. “I don’t know. I haven’t been to a doctor.”
“At four months plus? We’ll fix that tomorrow.”
After more planning, Jenny wandered off to her room, looking dazed.
* * * *
It was a girl and Jenny was doing fine. From the four-month-plus size of her sexy belly, she could expect a big, big baby. On the way back from the doctor’s, we stopped at a good wig shop I knew of and fitted her with sensuous auburn curls to cover her pixie blond cut. Then, when we got back to my place, we started work in the studio. I began with a still session, talking her through a progressive strip to bare skin, then cupping her breasts, caressing her belly, holding big breaths to increase her bulge. After a brief rest, I set up my HD camcorder (still tape in those days) and had her reprise the same action in real time. This was going to be my pattern: first the stills that also rehearsed the movies, and finally video. Jenny was a natural actress, and her odd blend of erotic innocence was truly arousing. Later, when I had a six-minute cut of the video, I sat her down in front of my big reference monitor with a USB microphone hooked to audio software in my computer. Instead of a script, I jotted a topic outline and let her improvise with it: speaking her thoughts as she slowly stripped, examined and squeezed her breasts in a mirror, and rubbed the thrusting dome of her pregnant belly. At this four-month stage, my theme was pride at her new condition, regret that the father had walked out on her, and a growing horniness that no one was relieving. Jenny was a great natural actress, and when I cut the best takes together and added a touch of reverb, I could sync her recording to the video. It would seem like Jenny’s thoughts as she displayed herself for the viewer.
And that was the style we set – a style that would make us different from the other big-bellied pussy flashers then offered on pay sites. My lighting was better, more natural, than ho-hum studio glamour lighting, and Jenny was blessedly clear of that porn or almost-porn actress look. She resembled the girl next door — if the girl next door made you slobber on sight.
I took it slowly through the fifth month of Jenny’s pregnancy, shooting maybe three times a week. She took my direction well, and I worked her carefully, gently, toward more erotic display. I moved gradually, partly because Jenny wasn’t a seasoned porn actress and partly because I didn’t want to lose her unique quality of seductive but slightly shy innocence. When she smiled and flirted, you wanted to roll over and have your belly scratched; and when she moved a slow hand down the slope of her own growing belly, as if bashfully wanting to hide her bald pussy, it was instant, painful bonerville.
And I was example A – I couldn’t help it; Jenny was such an unusual combination of personal liveliness and physical lusciousness that I was hard half the time we were shooting. To give an idea why, here’s a typical example of me, directing: “Okay, bunch your dress top on your belly and peel your bra straps – casually, casually! Now unhook your bra; no, do it again but first take a deeeep breath and stick your chest out. Good! Now let the bra cups slip down, let your nipples just peek out, now more, now drop the bra. Okay, hook your thumbs in your panties. Only now you know you aren’t alone. No, no, not like a pole dancer, like I’m your lover, right? You’re not seducing me now, but you can’t resist teasing me. Perfect! Now start on that tight dress where it’s trapped under your breasts. “
Jenny snickered. “Call them ‘boobs,’ it’s easier to say.”
And oh what boobs they were too, big and free-floating, their smooth skin already tightening from the pressure building inside them. As she started to wiggle her dress downward, they swung like lush bells and Jenny looked straight at me with a small, sly grin. She could somehow communicate “naughty boy!” without seeming the least bit coy about it.
Whew! Either Jenny was a great actress or else she was developing more than roommate feelings about me. I sure was reacting that way to her. That bothered me because I couldn’t work professionally with a full-time erection. Okay, and also because I’d said I wouldn’t take advantage of her. With an empty purse and her baby half-baked, Jenny was completely dependent on me. No way was I going to use that as leverage. From then on I worked hard on my professional attitude and I (usually) maintained it – well, sort of.
While all this was happening, I was also setting up the website, the payment system, and a long list of new costumes, props, and backgrounds for variety. At first I was stumped because neither of us wanted to risk shooting in public, and L.A. doesn’t offer much in the way of outdoor privacy. Then I had a brainstorm: I had a huge studio green screen I could make with a 20-foot seamless paper backing. When we weren’t shooting, I was all over the L.A. basin, videotaping backgrounds. If I lit Jenny to match her background, I could digitally place her in each of them. I also realized that I could shoot up on my flat roof, because there were no neighbor windows anywhere close enough to see us. So, by the time her five-month belly had bloomed, we had a game plan, a setup, a website, and 12-each of our still and video shooting sessions. It was time to go public.
The pay site was a quick success. A geeky pal of mine had set it all up (in exchange for free access to everything on it, the poor horny bastard) and tagged it so that search engines homed in on it like hawks on a bunny. Specialty blogs picked it up and we let them use the come-on stills and video trailers. The hits piled up and the dollars started flowing into PayPal. My instinct had been right: Jenny was different: a girl you might actually meet in a college course or shopping mall, but so erotic that your cock went due north and pre-cum leaked from its tip.
And she only got sexier. On the weeks that led to her seven-month mark, her belly swelled, her breasts engorged, and her nipples darkened. Jenny’s fair skin bloomed with pregnant glow and her navel, week by week, crept outward toward the surface of her bulging belly dome.
Her work changed too, as she grew comfortable with the process and increasingly pleased – even a little smug – that her pregnant body and the sexy personality that radiated from it were making the customers beat their meat all over the Internet. She was fingering her cunt by now to bring herself off on camera; and her gasping breaths and desperate moans (I was now recording live sound) were maybe better than the visuals. On-screen, her swollen breasts and belly gleamed with perspiration. She got into it so hard that once we had to stop when her violent head shakes flipped her wig off. We both dissolved in giggles and she lay there on the green seamless (that was going to be a sunlit meadow when I keyed the background in) with those breasts and belly heaving with her happy laughter. As soon as she got control, she leaped up nimbly, despite her thrusting baby weight, ran forward off the paper, and embraced me. We held each other a long time, and, I guess both us were noting how we felt and where we might be going.
That afternoon we did our online paperwork and Jenny goggled at the bottom line: “Nine thousand bucks in one month?!?”
“And then some; and remember: this is still the four- and five-month stuff. Wait ’til we add the next month’s work. With every week, your take will swell like your belly.” Since she was standing beside me looking at my screen, I reached across and rubbed her main asset, which was bare, as usual. “Hey! I think your belly button’s making its debut!”
She giggled and covered my hand with her small one. “It’s early, but, like you said, it’s going to be a beeeg baby.” She moved her palm to caress the steep pink slope down to her plummy pussy. “Pushing that cutie out’s going to be an awful job.”
I stroked her navel with my index finger. “You’ll do it. And I’ll be there to cheer and feel useless.”
Jenny covered my hand with hers again and said in a small, funny voice, “You know, I hoped you would.”
We looked at each other and each of us got that DUH! Look that happens when you realize something obvious.
That night at dinner, we celebrated. A month into her third trimester, one glass of white wine wouldn’t hurt, so we toasted her and our enterprise.
By now we were sitting on my big gooshy couch. “You’re looking at me,” Jenny said quietly.
I nodded. “And you’re looking back.”
“I don’t feel like roommates now. How about you?”
I nodded again. “I tried, really tried; but you’re not like anyone I’ve known, Jenny. You really grabbed hold of me.”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
“I knew that, but…. Think we’re a good fit?”
“Won’t know ’til we try.” Spreading her legs to unlimber her belly, Jenny leaned toward me, smiling.
Smiling back, I held out my hand. “I’ve got a great big bed; let’s test it.”
“All right, I…” She started to take my hand; but then Jenny’s face went through several changes, from smiling to doubtful to fearful, to just plain bleak.
Something was obviously wrong.
She looked at me uncertainly as if she didn’t know what to say.”Well…. Before….” She sighed and took a big breath, as if coming to a decision. “Here’s some history: When I was a college freshman…”
“When was that?”
“Until two months ago.”
“Jenny, just how old are you… I mean really?”
A shrug. “Eighteen. Anyway, I went to a frat party, got totally hammered, and passed out. I came to being fucked on a bed with a bunch of other guys watching.” She pursed her lips bitterly. “They’d already had their fun with me. One of them – who knows? – got me pregnant. How about that? Stole my virginity and knocked me up – hey, one-stop service! – all while was I was dead out cold.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, grimacing.
“Anyway, I eventually hauled myself up, staggered out of the frat house, and dragged my sloppy stinking, knocked up ass back to the dorm.” She smiled and her eyes were wet. “That was it for sex.” She shook her head. “College too. Somehow, I just couldn’t…” Breaking off, she waved a hand vaguely.
I was so shocked that all I could think of was psychobabble like, so now you have issues with sex; so now you’re, ah, conflicted – that kind of garbage. I simply put a comforting arm around her shoulders and said quietly, “Okay, let’s sit here instead and neck.”
Now her tears flooded her beautiful face. “Oh, Jack…” she broke off, “oh, Jack, why didn’t I find you first?” She twisted around as far as her seven-month belly allowed, wrapped her arms around me, and buried her face in my neck.
Warm and soft as she was in my arms, she couldn’t distract me from thinking. So she was pretty well turned off of sex. The uninhibited model in our studio sessions was not the real Jenny – or, underneath, was it? After several minutes thought while her sobs died away, I said, “You’ve trusted me so far, Jenny. Can you trust me just a bit more?” She looked at me as she wiped her eyes with a tissue, then nodded. I stood us both up, my arms still around her. “Let’s go in my bedroom.” Jenny started to shake her head, but turned the move into a nod. Arms around each other as if we were brother and sister, we walked into the bedroom.
I’m a lighting nut, as you’d expect of a photographer, and my dimmer-controlled bedroom pin spots gave the room a soft, intimate glow. Jenny paused uncertainly, then walked over to the bed, turned around, and looked at me. “Now what?” She was trying, but her voice trembled.
“Now we undress each other, slowly, slooooly!” Her eyes widened as I gently pulled her man’s XL tee shirt over her head. “Now you do mine.” Hands trembling slightly, she undid my shirt buttons while I did the sleeves, then helped me out of it.
My turn: the fly on her jeans was already unzipped to handle the delicious swell of her belly, so I pulled them down and helped her step out of them. While I was squatting, I tapped each foot and she raised it like an obedient horse, for me to remove her shoes. She repeated the process with my pants, grunting a bit as she knelt to finish the job. Looking down past her pixie-cut hair, I could see her swollen breasts and the seven-month belly that jutted below them. My cock went to battle alert, I just couldn’t help it.
She saw this, of course, as I helped her rise again. “Um, Jack, I don’t really…”
Standing back a bit, I held both her outstretched hands. “I can’t help my reaction, Jenny. You’re so desirable, no man could stay neutral. Keep trusting me.” I twirled a finger in a circle and she reluctantly turned around. I undid her bra and helped her shrug out of it. By now her breasts were so big that I could see their outer curves from the back. I turned her around and smiled at her gently, taking care to keep my look higher than her chest. “Okay; your turn.”
After a deep breath, she took my boxers, freed them from my stiff, wagging cock, and pulled them off.
Jenny gasped. Now I’m well enough endowed, I guess, but no giant – though I supposed any cock would be threatening to Jenny right now. Without a word, I pulled down her bikini panties.
“Let’s get on the bed.”
“Oh, Jack….”
“We’re only going to play, Jenny, just play and nothing more. Still trust me?”
She glanced down at my flagpole boner, looking more and more uncertain. “Isn’t that what they all say?”
I thought a moment, then started gathering up her clothes. She said quickly, “Wait, I guess… I didn’t mean.…”
I Stacked her things, shoes on top, in a neat pile on the straight chair by the bedroom door. Then I opened the door wide and turned to face her. “There’s your stuff, all ready to go. The minute you think I’m starting to get out of control, jump off the bed, grab your clothes, and head for your own bedroom.” I walked back toward her as I said this, my cock now down to half-mast. “Your door has a snap lock on the inside.”
Something close to a loving look crossed Jenny’s face, and then she sat on the bed, pulled her long legs up, and lay down facing me. I twirled my finger horizontally this time, and she turned over onto her opposite side. I lay down gently and spooned her.
Then I did nothing at all. Of course Jenny could feel my big cock against her butt, and it was twitching a bit. She took a shuddery breath, but stayed still.
I moved the fronts of my thighs along the backs of hers. “You feel good, Jenny – and not just in the obvious places. Right here on your side, where your waist starts to flare into your hips,” I smoothed the spot gently with two fingers, “that’s the softest skin I’ve ever caressed.” Jenny made a quiet, brief grunting sound – I couldn’t yet tell what it meant.
I continued my slow inventory, talking as I grazed her warm skin with my fingers. “And here, in the valley where your thigh meets your pussy.” I used just one finger, to avoid pushing on her labia, but she still shuddered a bit. I went on stroking her body, telling her how sensuous her skin was, the outside of her arm, her throat, the hollow just above her collar bone. With a little stretching, I could down reach the inner side of her leg, and as I caressed it with long, light strokes all the way up to, but not quite touching her cunt. She cocked her knee and slowly separated the leg from its mate. Jenny sighed. I dropped my smoothing fingers well inside her upper thigh and moved them slowly, hypnotically up and down, up and down her leg, until the upswing pressed gently but insistently against her lips. She wiggled her hips and caught her breath a moment, then relaxed again.
“I wish you could see your bottom, Jenny. Your cheeks are succulent and smooth – no bumps, no dimples – sweet, perfect globes.” My hand caressed the upper one, cupping, squeezing just a little. Then I turned my hand over so the little hairs on the backs of my fingers tickled her back as I stroked my way up her spine. Jenny was humming now. I licked the side of her throat as I ran my palm over her shoulder and down to cup her breast. “Awww, Jenny, it’s so heavy, so full; your nipple pops up, hard as a little thimble.” I circled it with my fingertips, not pinching yet, and widened my circles to rub over the little bumps on her dark aureoles. She was moaning by now. “Poor left breast,” I went on sympathetically, “your right one gets all the attention.”
Taking the hint, she bumped her hips against me. I scootched a few inches clear and Jenny rolled on to her back. “There it is! Your baby will be so lucky! Swollen breast, sweet, swollen, suckable breast.” I cupped and lifted it in turn. It felt like a water balloon.
Jenny giggled. “‘boobs’ is still easier to say.”
I breathed into her ear, “They may be boobs in the studio, but here in bed, they’re breasts; and they’re SO erotic!” This time, I twitched my straining cock against her thigh on purpose. Jenny gasped, but she didn’t sound frightened any more. I moved my hand and started down the upper slope of her belly dome, grazing my fingers along her skin, circling her belly button, rubbing on it with my index finger. “Turkey’s not quite done. The little button hasn’t popped yet.” Jenny’s chuckle made her taut belly shake under my hand. I caressed her swollen gut, sending all my senses to my palm and fingers, feeling warm skin and the light, invisible peach fuzz on it. If my cock had been a rocket, it would have blasted off by now. It was all I could do to keep control. Pressing her belly just a little, I felt the thin layer of fat beneath, then muscles – and suddenly, beneath that, a sudden push-back from her tenant. Was the baby responding to me? Jeez, I couldn’t keep control much longer!
She was groaning now. “Touch me, Jack, touch me!” I moved my hand down, caressed her smooth, bare mons, and cupped her pussy with three fingers, putting on some pressure to arouse her clit beneath. Her groans grew louder. “Jack, Jaaack!”
“Shhhh,” I covered her mouth and kissed her slowly. The kiss was gentle, but the slow, insistent pressure of my fingers in her cunt increased. She lifted it against my hand insistently, then moved her hips in lazy circles under my pressure. As I slowly moved my fingers, the middle one slipped inside. Jenny arched her back and pulled her breath in sharply. I kept rubbing, probing. Trembling now, she bowed her back up until her butt cheeks lifted off the bed and her belly ballooned above her. I could see the faint, blue veins below the skin. I pulled my teasing fingers from her wet vagina and caressed her straining gut, then kissed and sucked her belly button.
“No, Jack,” she whispered breathlessly, “don’t stop, go back down there!”
Turning onto my front, I captured and caressed her heavy breasts, cupping and just lightly squeezing. Leaning down, I slipped my tongue into her mouth and kissed her as her own pink tongue licked forward in a courting duel with mine. After a long, sweet interval, I pulled away and lay back beside her. “No more, Jenny, no more tonight; I don’t think I could control myself.” She froze and so I added, “Let’s go to sleep now,” hoping she wouldn’t see the evil grin on my face or hear my heavy breathing.
Jenny sprang straight up in bed, as abruptly as her beach ball stomach allowed. “What!? Whaddayou MEAN, go to sleep!!!??”
I sat up too, and looked as solemn as I could. “I promised that we’d play and nothing more. I have to prove that you can trust me…” She took an irate breath, so I jumped in again, “…even if you’re so desirable that I’m going nuts,” I stroked her belly, now riding Buddha-like in her lap, “even if I’m dying to fill you even fuller.” I pushed her belly button with a finger. It hardly yielded at all.
Though my agony was real, it still was fun to watch Jenny’s face as it evolved from shock to anger to thoughtfulness. Then she smiled and the sun came out again. “You really mean that, don’t you? You won’t fuck me.”
“I’ll NEVER fuck you, Jenny, but when you’re ready I’ll make love with you forever.”
“Then let’s get started, dummy!” She sounded exasperated but looked amused. I shook my head solemnly. Jenny cupped and rubbed her breasts absently, while I groaned inside. She said stubbornly, “Okay, then, there’s still more ways to play!”
Surprisingly agile despite her belly globe, she swiveled around to 69 position and, before I could react, yanked my boxers down, pulled my cock straight up, caught it in her pink mouth and rolled me over onto her. We stretched out across the wide bed and Jenny opened her thighs to me. I plunged my face between her legs. My chin pressed on her clit, my tongue lapped her vagina, and my nose tip pressed against her anus. I pushed and stroked her gently, leisurely.
“Wmowh, MWOWH!!” Jenny pleaded, not too distinctly with her mouth stuffed with cock. I moved my educated tongue onto her clit and set to work, lapping, tickling, pushing; then sucked it urgently. Jenny’s throaty growls were eloquent enough. She pulled out, slurping, and my rigid cock felt suddenly cool and naked. There was a suspenseful pause, and then my cockhead felt two warm, pursed lips touch just its tip. They kissed it, opened, almost reluctantly and stroked very slowly down until they’d engulfed the fleshy collar. Jenny sucked me, lapped my precum with her tongue, then slowly pumped her mouth down and up my shaft: one inch, two, then three – and always sucking on my cock, until her lips ruffled the trimmed hair at my base. “Ummmmm!!” she hummed.
My arms were getting tired, so I risked transferring at least some weight to her swollen belly. I was afraid she’d hurt, but Jenny only cooed and wiggled her great gut beneath me. I did feel tiny protests from her passenger, nothing serious.
Even this first time, we succeeded in coordinating. When I pulled my wet mouth out of her pussy long enough to groan, “Any minute, Jenny. Watch it!” she nodded as far as my stiff shaft allowed, whined, “Mmmp, Mooo!” and started shuddering. Her body jerked, her flowing cunt shook around me, and her hips bucked, slamming my mouth and tongue even deeper. She made high, keening sounds around my cock but never pulled her mouth off me.
“Hmmmm-ummmmm-hmmmmm!” she wailed and spasmed so spastically that she almost dislodged my mouth from Happy Valley, but she clamped her thighs around my head and locked me into her. Her climax was as violent as electroshock – I guess it was, in a way – and that set me off too. I lifted my face and shouted, “Now, Jenny, now!!” and shot my semen down her throat. Generous as I was, she worked her muscles, gagged a little, swallowed everything. For ten seconds after I’d been milked completely, my helpless cock kept squeezing, pulsing, as if I had to pee but couldn’t.
I didn’t dare fully relax on her pregnant belly so I wrapped my arms around her hips and pulled her over until we’d switched positions. Again, she wagged her belly on my chest, then gasped, “I want… I want… want your other end!” I rolled her to her side and reversed so we were face to face. Before I kissed her deeply, I wiped my face and chin. Jenny giggled. “I guess I’m just the sloppy type.”
Still breathing heavily, I smiled and murmured, “Yum!” We kissed and hummed into each other’s mouths.
After a while, I pulled my head away. “Um, not to bring up painful subjects, but you said that on your only other time, you were passed-out drunk.” She nodded ruefully. “Then how come you’re such an expert? I mean, I’ve never, NEVER experienced anyone like you!”
She sighed and smiled as her breathing slowly calmed, then said, “Just natural talent, Jack. You know, I could get to like this, after all.” The smile widened to a huge grin and Jenny caressed my face.
“Hooo, boy,” was all that I could answer. I kissed her breasts and belly once again, nipping her navel, sucking on her trembling nipples, then moved back up to kiss her lips and bid her tongue good night. We got under the bed covers, chuckling that we were clumsier at doing this than we had been making first-time love.
There was daylight in the room when I awakened with a raging hardon. As my brain cleared, I realized it was caused by Jenny’s virtuoso mouth. When she saw I was awake, she pulled free with a dramatic POP! And smiled. “‘Not ’til you’re ready,” you said last night.” She kissed my cock while slowly stroking her hand up and down its length. “Well, put up or shut up, Jack; I’m ready!” And with that, she sat back on her knees, then swung a leg over and heaved her belly up until she was above me, squatting. She fed my cock tip into her and sat down slowly, already soaking wet. I slid into her tight slippery hole, in and in some more until her cunt had swallowed all of me. “Yeah, I could get to like this,” she repeated, and her face looked both overjoyed and wicked.
So we were lovers. We romped and kissed and sucked and screwed each other cross-eyed every night and morning; and each day reinforced the knowledge that I loved her – loved her permanently. Her belly swelled and bulged and swelled some more until she looked too big for just one baby. Her breasts inflated too while their aureoles grew and darkened, and her belly button popped into a soft pink thimble riding on her gut. The more pregnant Jenny grew, the more she wanted me and the more I wanted her. It was a careful two months, but blissfully athletic!
Our love making colored her modeling work. Now she played wantonly to my camera, uninhibited. Because I’d found her pregnant body so arousing, she flaunted it now, fondling her breasts, stroking her huge gut, rocking her hips to rub her pussy walls. I set a mirror on the floor and aimed the camera down at it, to frame her vast belly looming over it, and her pussy as she pulled it open. When she pleasured herself to climax, she didn’t make fake howling noises like a porn actress, but let her breathing and her voiceless grunts tell the story.
The website got more traffic, as I predicted, and by her ninth month, she was bringing in over 10K a month. She’d banked over 40 thousand dollars by now, and I knew this would continue long after the baby’s birth. Jenny was past her money troubles now. She’d long-since paid me back.
Lying there one night, still breathing hard, Jenny said absently, “Forty weeks tomorrow, and I don’t yet have a name for my baby.”
“OUR baby,”
Jenny suddenly rolled toward me. Even in near darkness, the straining globes of her breasts and belly were powerfully erotic. “What did you say?”
“I’ll claim fatherhood, and, if I’m really, REALLY lucky, marry you — I mean, if you aren’t too fussy.”
Jenny struggled onto her front and then lifted herself on her arms, huge belly still pressing on the bed. Expressionless, she studied my face; then silent tears welled out of her eyes, rolled down her face, and dripped onto the sheet.
“Aw, don’t Jenny. I just mean I love you.” This must have had the wrong effect because the tears swelled to a flood. I reached up and touched one track of tears. “I do love you, Jenny, love you like I’ve never loved anyone. “Please stop weeping and say yes.”
“Yes, Jack,” she said in a shuddery voice, and lowered herself to kiss me.
“Whoa! Don’t hurt the baby!”
“Oh, she’s not hurt, Jack.” Jenny kissed me long and deep, then rolled onto her back beside me. “In that case, we’ll name her Jackie.”
“Ja…?”
“For Jacqueline; does that sound nice?”
My turn to go all emotional. “Yes, it does,” I whispered, and snaked my arm across to cradle and caress her tight breasts, their tips still standing at attention. My palm moved down and gently caressed Jackie through Jenny’s straining belly skin.
“That feels so good!” she said, “I’m too heavy and out of breath to start again tonight, but you just wait ’til morning!” She cuddled in until her warm breath moved on my neck. “I love you too, Jack, have done for weeks and weeks. I was afraid you… never mind, I love you.”
I cuddled back, playing with her belly button, and she giggled happily.
I was awakened by daylight, a chill feeling, and more than my regular morning woody, and no wonder. I opened my eyes to find the blankets off and Jenny lying up against me, head downward, holding on to my hip with her warm hand and engulfing my cock in her warmer mouth. This was such a fantastic wakeup that I just lay there and enjoyed it, looking at her slick, taut mound in front of me (I kept it shaved, a chore I’d be happy to continue even after she could see it again). She was slurping, sucking, nipping, teasing my cock in rotation, deliberately, without hurry. “Ooohhhh, Jenny!” I breathed.
She disengaged with an audible POP! “About time you woke up. Ready for your present?”
“What present?”
“Wait.” Sitting up, she heaved her belly around and climbed up on her knees, then straddled me, bracing an arm on my thigh to protect her hanging gut. Amazing woman: that huge belly didn’t even make her waddle when she walked. “I brought you a pet, Jack; it’s a pussy!” Slowly, tantalizingly, she lowered herself onto my shaft, slowly down and down until her straining belly bottomed out on mine and her thighs caressed mine also. “And like it or not, this pussy’s yours forever.”
“I like it, I like it,” I groaned.
Jenny rode me in what seemed like slow motion, squeezing her cunt muscles as she lifted, then forcing down again, and doing it repeatedly. The pleasure was almost painfully intense. I lay on my back in nearly a trance, watching her heave her belly up by lifting it with both hands. It bulged, relaxed, and bulged again, while the flesh around her navel whitened with the strain. Her big breasts, two cup bigger now, strained too. Packed too full and heavy to flop up and down with her movement, they swayed hypnotically, like tight fleshy bells upside down, tolling “I love you, I love you,” as they swung back and forth. Looking up to her face, I realized she was saying that aloud. “Oh god, I love you too, Jenny!”
Her smile turned wickedly seductive. “Then cum for me, Jack, cum, lover, cum!”
“Not until you…” I gasped.
“Not this time, Jack; this present’s all for you – I’d be grateful even if you didn’t love me, but as it is, well, there’s no way to pay the debt, but I can show you what it means to me. “Cum for me, beloved, cum now.” Her voice was almost soothing, but the rhythm of her strokes increased, and her vagina muscles clamped me spastically.
Faster; faster yet. “Oh Jenny, I can’t hold it, Jenny! Ohhhhhhhhh!” I started shooting off inside her, kissing the baby through her cervix, filling her hole with semen.
Jenny’s triumphant grin evolved to surprise. “Oh, hey, I’m cumming too; I’m….” and she shouted ecstatically as we finished off together.
We lay/sat quietly a while, smiling foolishly at each other. She was so beautiful!
Then an odd expression crossed her glowing face. “Jack…? I… I think you baptized the baby and she baptized you right back!” As she lifted herself off my shaft, a brief cascade of liquid flooded out of her.
I nodded seriously. “Your water?” Jenny nodded back. “Contractions?”
“Not yet.”
“Then let’s shower and have breakfast. You’re already packed.”
“Okay, but first…” she struggled down beside me, wrapped her free hand around my neck and kissed me, slowly, deeply. “Happy father’s day, Jack.”
“And happy birthday, Jacqueline.”
I’ll skip the birth part, embarrassed that my coach/partner role was so ridiculously easy and pain-free by comparison. By the time small Jacqueline was evicted, weighed, washed, and cradled in her mother’s arms, Jenny had done a punishing week’s work in eight straight hours. But the look on her face said she didn’t begrudge a minute of it.
And so it went. We married as soon as we could. A store room was already converted to a nursery, and half the upper floor was unused anyway. We could live there indefinitely, expanding as we needed. Jack Jr. followed Jacqui and then Clint (Jenny had a thing for Mr. Eastwood). With each baby, we added to her website (and the apartment upstairs) and the PayPal bucks kept rolling in. My business flourished too, with Jenny as assistant, book keeper, model stylist, set decorator – she was amazingly versatile, and we worked in harmony in the studio and upstairs, both. After young Jenny had followed Clint, we gave up baby making, reluctantly on both our parts; but hell, the six of us now fill the van I ordered customized, and the family goes everywhere together. Maria comes each day to help and we all love her.
If I were superstitious, I’d be quaking in my boots now. This is all too good; I don’t deserve this – no one does. But while I’ve got it, I thank the Powers That Be and work each day to make it last.