The First Time I Was with a Pregnant Woman

It was in September when I saw her again.

We had gone months without crossing paths; she was living in another city and I was buried in work. But we kept talking, almost every day at first, then less often, though the thread was never completely broken. When she wrote to tell me she’d be in town for a few days for medical checkups, I called her without thinking twice.

—Let’s grab a drink —I said, more than asked.

—Sure —she replied. And there was something in her voice I couldn’t decipher until I saw her.

We met at noon at an Italian restaurant downtown that she knew. I arrived five minutes early and waited for her at the entrance, watching the street. When I saw her turn the corner, I had to make an effort not to stand there with my mouth hanging open.

Sofía was six months pregnant.

I knew it, of course. She had told me by message weeks earlier. But seeing her in person was something else. She wore a dark green dress that outlined her belly, her long black hair loose over her shoulders, and she walked with that calm confidence women have when they feel comfortable in their own bodies. Her hips had widened. Her tits, which had always been generous, were now downright spectacular, pushing against the fabric of the dress in a way that made me swallow hard.

—You’re looking at me weird —she said when she reached me.

—I’m looking because you’re gorgeous —I replied, and it was the truth.

She laughed and gave me a long hug. She smelled of something citrusy, soft. When she pulled back, she studied my face for a moment.

—You’re the same.

—You’re not —I said.

—I know. I’m huge.

—That’s not what I meant.

We went into the restaurant. She ordered fettuccine with mushroom sauce, salad, and sparkling water. I ordered vegetable cannelloni and a glass of white wine. We ate slowly, talking about everything and nothing: her city, my job, her family, who was already waiting for the baby with more anxiety than she herself had.

—And the father? —I asked at one point, carefully.

—Out of the picture for four months —she said without drama, like someone announcing she’d changed hairdressers—. Better that way.

I nodded. I didn’t ask any more. She thanked me with a brief smile and changed the subject. We talked about the food, the weather, a series we were both watching. It was such a normal conversation that I almost managed to ignore what was right in front of me: her, pregnant, laughing with her cutlery in hand, and me unable to stop looking at her and unable to stop my cock from starting to move in my pants every time she leaned forward and her neckline opened a little more.

***

After lunch I went with her to the clinic for her prenatal checkup. I waited in the waiting room with a magazine I didn’t read, watching the clock. When she came out half an hour later, she was smiling.

—Everything okay? —I asked.

—Perfectly. —She paused—. The doctor asked if you were the dad.

—And what did you say?

—That we were friends. —Another, longer pause—. But she said we made a very good couple.

I said nothing. Neither did she. We walked out to the street in silence and the afternoon sun greeted us with that long, golden light autumn has when it still hasn’t quite decided itself.

—There’s an ice cream shop I want to try —she said finally—. Do you have time?

I had all the time in the world.

The place was called La Veneziana, an artisanal ice cream shop five blocks from the clinic. We ordered ice cream in cones: she chose pistachio with raspberry; I got lemon and dark chocolate. We sat at a little table by the window. Outside, the afternoon was passing by.

We ate in silence for a moment. Then she started laughing for no apparent reason.

—What? —I asked.

—Nothing. —She wiped the corner of her lips with a napkin—. I was thinking about the doctor thing.

—And?

She looked straight at me. It was a different look from the ones at lunch. More direct. More serious.

—And that I came here partly for the checkups, yes. But also to find out whether what I felt before was still real or if it was just nostalgia and distance.

The ice cream melted a little between my fingers. I didn’t notice until she pointed it out with a gesture.

—And? —I said.

—And here I am —she replied—. With six months of belly, eating pistachio ice cream with you. I guess that says something.

I set the cone down on the table. I leaned forward.

—I felt something too when I saw you at the entrance —I said—. I don’t really know how to explain it, but you’re even prettier than the last time I saw you. And the last time you already seemed very pretty to me.

She lowered her gaze. She blushed, a soft color rising up her neck to her cheeks. Then she looked back at me.

—Don’t say that.

—Why not, if it’s true?

—Because then I can’t keep pretending we’re just friends eating ice cream.

We fell silent. Outside, a bus passed, the traffic light changed, someone at the back of the place ordered something loudly. All that happened while we looked at each other without speaking.

It was her who moved first. She reached her hand across the table and touched my fingers.

—Want to come to my apartment? —she asked.

***

She lived ten minutes away by car. We didn’t even get the engine started. As soon as I closed the passenger door, she turned toward me and kissed me. Slowly, without haste, as if she had spent a long time thinking exactly how she was going to do it. Her tongue slipped into my mouth with a restrained hunger that made my cock hard instantly.

When she pulled back, she was breathing a little faster.

—I’ve been wanting to do that for months —she said.

I didn’t answer. I kissed her again, this time with more intent, biting her lower lip until she let out a low moan into my mouth.

At some point I took her hand and put it on my thigh. She understood the gesture. Her fingers slid upward, and when she rested them over my crotch and felt the hard bulge outlined in my pants, she let out a soft sigh and pressed with her open palm, measuring me through the fabric.

—Fuck —she murmured—. You’re already hard.

—I’ve had it like this for half an hour —I whispered in her ear.

—Have you ever been with a pregnant woman? —she asked against my mouth, not letting go of my cock.

—No —I replied.

—You will today. If you really want me, this afternoon you’re going to fuck me properly. With desire. I want to feel like you’re really fucking me, not treating me like I’m going to break.

The apartment was cozy and tidy. Light-colored walls, books stacked on a shelf, a large plant next to the living room window. She asked me to sit on the sofa.

—Wine? —she asked.

—If you’ve got some —I said.

She disappeared toward the kitchen. I heard the cork, the glass, her steps coming back. She gave me a glass of red wine and stood in front of me, studying me with an expression that was hard to decipher: curious, determined, a little nervous too.

—I’m going to change —she said—. I’ll be quick.

She wasn’t long. When she came back into the living room she was wearing a semi-transparent black robe that reached mid-thigh. Under it, a dark thong that looked tiny against her generous hips. Her tits moved with every step, the dark nipples showing through the thin fabric, swollen and big from the pregnancy. Her round belly bulged beneath the open robe, and seeing her like that, pregnant and offering herself to me in lingerie, made my cock harder than it had been in months.

She sat beside me on the sofa. I set the glass on the little table. I kissed her before she could say anything.

***

The kisses grew slower, deeper. She took my hand and brought it to the knot of her robe and left it there, as if giving me permission. I untied it carefully. The fabric fell open at the sides.

I stopped for a moment. Just to look at her.

Her tits were enormous, round, with darkened, thick nipples from the pregnancy, the areolas wide. Her belly, firm and perfectly curved, gave her body a new shape I didn’t know. It was not less beautiful. It was different, and that difference had something in it that took me completely by surprise: it had my cock leaking inside my pants.

—What’s wrong? —she asked, and there was a shadow of insecurity in her voice.

—I don’t know where to start —I said honestly.

That made her laugh. The tension went away.

I started with her tits. I took them in my hands, squeezing them, and lifted them a little to lick her nipples from below. They were so swollen they went rigid the moment I brushed them with my tongue. I took one fully into my mouth and sucked, first gently, then harder, while with my other hand I pinched the other nipple between my thumb and forefinger. She arched her back against the sofa and let out a long moan.

—Fuck, like that —she said, her voice wrecked—. Suck them harder. They’re so sensitive I’m going to come just from that.

I did as she asked. I moved from one tit to the other, sucking, licking, lightly biting her nipples with my teeth. I ran my tongue all around the entire areola before pulling the nipple upward, stretching it, until she was panting and digging her nails into my shoulders.

—Keep going down —she said—. Please.

I went down her abdomen with slow kisses, unhurried, learning the new geography of her body. I traced her navel with my tongue, kissed her whole belly, that firm, warm curve rising and falling with each breath. I knelt on the floor in front of the sofa and spread her legs, resting my hands on the inner part of her thighs. The thong was made of fine lace and was visibly soaked, with a dark stain in the center. I pulled it aside.

Her cunt opened up in front of my face. It was swollen, shiny, dripping. She had shaved it, and her pink lips stood out, thick and wet. I blew on it first, just to see her shiver, and then I ran my tongue all the way from bottom to top, slowly, sucking it all, swallowing what came out of her.

—Oh, you son of a bitch —she gasped—. Like that, don’t stop.

I started licking her clit in circles, first softly, then with the tip of my tongue firm and exact. I slid two fingers into her cunt while I kept going with my mouth, and she immediately clenched around them with her inner walls, so hot and so wet that they slipped out with a sucking sound. I put them back in, deeper, curving them upward to find that spot inside that made her jump. She put one hand on my head, not to guide me, but to have something to hold onto. With the other she grabbed a tit and pinched her own nipple.

Her hips started moving against my face, grinding her cunt into my mouth. Her moans grew less controlled, more urgent, dirtier.

—Don’t stop —she said—. There. Exactly there. Suck it, keep sucking it, I’m going to come.

I didn’t stop. I buried my tongue in her clit with a steady rhythm, sucking, licking, never stopping the fingers inside her, until I felt her tense all over. Her thighs closed around the sides of my head, squeezing my ears, and she let out a long, broken cry. Her cunt contracted around my fingers in spasms, gripping them hard, and I felt a warm stream run down the inside of her thigh. She trembled. She took a deep breath once, twice, three times.

—Holy shit —she murmured when she could speak—. It had been a long time since anyone ate my pussy like that. You do it so well, fuck.

***

She pulled me up with one hand. She took off my shirt. She slid my pants down slowly, watching me as she did. When she took off my briefs, my cock sprang up hard, pointing at her face, the tip already wet and shining.

She started with my legs, her open hands traveling up my thighs. When she got there, she took me in her fingers and looked up at me with a direct, focused expression.

—You’re big —she said, and in her mouth it sounded more like a fact than a compliment—. I’m going to suck the whole thing.

Then she took me into her mouth.

She started at the base, her tongue running up the shaft in a straight line, following the thick vein on the side, before taking the whole head and going down slowly, swallowing me to the hilt. I felt myself hit the back of her throat and there was still more room. She pulled off, spit on me, and went back down, this time deeper, until her nose brushed my stomach. She stayed there for a few seconds, with my whole cock inside, choking a little, until she had to pull back coughing, strings of saliva hanging from her chin.

—Fuck —she muttered, and took it into her mouth again.

She alternated rhythms without warning: fast, helping with her hand from the base and her mouth sealed tight; then slow, sucking only the tip and circling the glans with her tongue; then back to the intensity, swallowing me to the hilt while looking me in the eyes. While she did it she looked at me, and there was something in that direct gaze, not looking away, with my cock in her mouth and her pregnant belly hanging between her open legs, that was more erotic than anything I’d felt in a long time. With her other hand she stroked my balls, playing with them, squeezing them gently.

—I want to feel you inside —she said, pulling me out for a moment, her mouth a mess of saliva—. I want you to put it in me now. Can you get behind me?

She was the one who chose the position. On all fours on the sofa, with her back to me, her hands resting on the backrest. That way her belly stayed free, with no pressure on it. I understood immediately why she had chosen it. From behind, her ass opened into two perfect round cheeks, and between her legs you could see her cunt open and dripping, ready.

I ran the head of my cock up and down her cunt lips, wetting myself, and she pushed her hips back impatiently.

—Put it in already —she gasped—. Don’t make me wait any longer.

I went in slowly. I slid it in centimeter by centimeter, watching my cock sink into her cunt and disappear inside her.

The heat was the first thing I felt. Then the pressure, the way her body fit around mine. Her cunt was so tight that halfway in I had to stop for a second so I wouldn’t come right there. I stayed still, just to take it in, with my cock buried to the hilt and my balls resting against her clit.

—You’re huge inside —she gasped, looking over her shoulder at me—. Move.

I started gently, finding the rhythm with her. Sofía guided me with her hips, pushing back against my pelvis every time I thrust forward, and I watched her whole ass move with each stroke, watched my cock enter and leave, shining with her juices. I put my hands on her waist and increased the pace.

—More —she said—. Harder. Fuck me hard, I’m not going to break.

I grabbed her hair, wrapped it around my hand, and tugged her head back. I started fucking her hard, every thrust all the way in, my thighs hitting her ass with a dry, wet sound that filled the living room. Her moans were different now, deeper, coming from inside, mixed with fucks and yeses and don’t stop. The leather of the sofa creaked under her knees. The afternoon light came slanting through the living room window and lit up her arched back, the shine of sweat between her shoulder blades.

I slid one hand underneath, between her legs, and found her clit with two fingers while I kept thrusting into her. She let out a howl and started trembling.

—I’m going to come again —she whimpered—. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.

Her cunt closed around my cock in waves, squeezing me so hard it almost dragged me along with her. I held on by a thread, biting my lip, waiting for her to finish trembling.

***

We moved to the bedroom. She lay on her side on the bed and I settled behind her, entering from behind in that slow, deep position that let us move together without rushing. I could wrap my arm around her belly and kiss her neck at the same time, and with my free hand I grabbed a tit and squeezed it, playing with the nipple between my fingers. It was intimate in a way I hadn’t expected, but also obscene: the splash of her soaked cunt every time my cock went in and out filled the room.

—Like that —she said—. Exactly like that. I love how it goes in slow.

We kept at it for a good while, unhurried, moving with a rhythm we found together without needing to talk. I nibbled her neck, licked the earlobe of her ear, while my cock slid all the way in with slow, long thrusts that made her moan softly with each one.

Then I sat on the edge of the bed and she climbed on top of me, facing me, bracing herself on my shoulders to settle in. She impaled herself on my cock, lowering herself slowly until she was fully seated, and let out a long moan when she felt it go in all the way. We looked at each other as we moved. Her hands on my shoulders, mine on her hips helping her up and down. She started riding me, up and down, and her huge tits bounced in front of my face with every movement. I bent down and caught one nipple in my mouth, sucking on it while she rode me harder.

—I gave it to you hard —she said between breaths—. Ask me for it. Ask me to drive it all the way in.

—Drive it in —I told her, biting her tit—. All the way. Until there’s nothing left outside.

I asked for it. She gave it to me. She started bouncing on top of me hard, leaning on my shoulders, dropping all her weight until my balls were flattened against her ass and she was screaming with pleasure. Her belly between us moved with every bounce, and I held her from underneath with one hand so she wouldn’t go off balance.

I felt I was reaching the limit. My balls had tightened up, that tingling rising from the base of my cock. I said it.

—I know —she answered, and stopped abruptly—. I’m sorry. You’re right there.

She got off me and looked at me with my cock shining between her legs, swollen, throbbing.

She knelt on the floor between my legs and took me in both hands. She ran my cock over her face first, rubbing it against her cheek, against her lips, and looked up at me with narrowed eyes.

—I want you to come in my mouth —she said—. I want to swallow all your cum.

She took me all the way in and started sucking me fast, with her hand helping from the base, up and down in a rhythm that was going to finish me in seconds. I stood at the edge of the bed to get deeper into her mouth, and she opened wider, letting me push to the back of her throat. I grabbed her head with both hands and started fucking her mouth myself, with short, quick thrusts.

—I’m coming —I gasped—. Now, now, now.

I exploded in her mouth in thick spurts. She didn’t pull away. She held on with my cock buried almost to the hilt, swallowing the first burst, and then pulled back a little so the next ones would land on her tongue, letting me watch the cum collect inside her, white and thick. She kept squeezing me with her hand, milking out the last drop, until I was left empty and trembling.

She swallowed everything. Then she opened her mouth so I could see there was nothing left and licked the head once more, cleaning me off.

It was intense and long, and when it was over I didn’t say anything because there were no words that could improve that moment.

A moment later she wiped her lips with the back of her hand and looked at me with a calm expression, almost pleased with herself.

—Are you staying for dinner? —she asked.

It was the most normal question in the world after everything that had just happened.

—If you invite me —I said.

—I’m inviting you —she replied.

And I stayed.