We were eagerly awaiting the arrival of our first child, a thrilling chapter unfolding in our lives. Around four months into her pregnancy, my wife Liz was radiant — her belly visibly rounding but not yet large. Yet, beneath her glowing exterior, desire simmered intensely.
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Liz confided in me one hectic workday, her voice thick with need. She craved me deeply, but with the endless demands weighing me down—calls, emails, deadlines—there was little time or energy left. I promised to make love to her once I got home, though, selfishly, part of me wondered if denying her would steer her desire elsewhere.
Later that afternoon, Liz headed to the gym clad in snug bike shorts that hugged her curves and rose high enough to cover her belly, paired with a sports bra. There was a tall black man she often exchanged friendly words with. Though we’d spoken about him before, nothing had ever transpired; he respected that she was married and never pressed beyond polite conversation.
After her weightlifting, Liz stepped onto the treadmill to cool down. Coincidentally, he climbed onto the treadmill beside hers. His eyes soon detected a frustrated edge in her voice, and he asked gently what was wrong. Without hesitation, she shared how desperately she was aching for me—how I hadn’t satisfied her needs.
He admitted it was a shame, telling her with a playful grin that if he were her husband, she’d be his in an instant. Then he revealed a kink of his: a deep attraction to pregnant women. Liz arched a knowing brow and teased, “Oh, do you now?” His gaze swept over her from head to toe, his tone dropping to a husky whisper: “Your snowbunny ass would look incredible bouncing on my cock.” That bold comment ignited a fire within her, her cheeks flushing with wetness as she glanced discreetly down to gauge his evident bulge beneath the shorts.
Her lips curled into a daring smile as she murmured, “How about we find out?”
Knowing the gym wasn’t suitable for what they planned, he shared his apartment’s address nearby, and they drove there separately. Once inside, he asked if she’d allow him to fuck her raw. Liz, cautious but hungry, requested proof of his cleanliness. He handed her his recent test results and assured her she would be the first partnered intimately since then. Satisfied, she agreed.
She hadn’t known his size, just sensed his confidence and was desperate enough to take the chance. Pulling down his shorts and boxers, she revealed a thick, mocha-hued cock, impressively thick—about the diameter of a soda can—and roughly eight inches long. The sight promised the intense stretch and fullness she craved.
Liz took him into her mouth on the couch, savoring the taste before straddling him, riding with hungry rhythm. Soon, she confessed a craving for doggy style. He lifted her effortlessly and carried her to the bedroom, his hands never faltering. They started with tender missionary strokes before he slid out, letting her flip onto her hands and knees.
Rather than dive in immediately, he playfully smacked her firm, jiggling ass, teasing every inch. He then began fingering her sweet pussy while simultaneously eating out her tight, puckered ass. The sensation drove him close to climax, and he needed a brief pause to recover.
Meanwhile, I was finally free and messaged her, asking when she’d be home. Silence answered at first, then my phone buzzed with a video—and my heart pounded. Liz held the camera as he fucks her from behind, her breathless voice declaring, “You didn’t want to fuck me, so I found someone who did.” Another clip followed, same position, with her smirking: “And by the way, he’s a LOT bigger than you.” A sharp smack on her ass ended it. My erection surged instantly. We hadn’t resumed our lifestyle yet, but the sight of her so taken by another man ignited a ferocious hunger inside me.
More videos arrived—this one from his point of view showed his thick cock sliding in and out, thumb prodding her tender asshole. A text accompanied it: “I think I’m going to cum in your wife, buddy.” Her pussy clenched wildly, stretched, dripping around him. Watching, I stroked myself hard, overwhelmed by jealousy and lust.
Minutes later, another close-up revealed her pussy, flushed and gaping, cum leaking freely. My orgasm hit hard just imagining her so thoroughly fucked by a cock I didn’t own. Then a tender photo popped up: naked and cuddled in bed, Liz lying on his chest, their lips locked in a slow, sensual kiss. His semi-erect shaft rested gently against her swollen belly. The caption read: “May take a quick nap here ? He made me cum so hard, now I’m sleepy.”
Without hesitation, I disappeared behind closed doors to relieve myself again, edging and exploding a second time, thoughts consumed by that vivid image. Resuming work, time passed until another message appeared: his perspective once more, Liz’s lips wrapped around him greedily. The message simply said, “I think she wants round two.”
Next, a video showed her standing, bent over against the floor-to-ceiling window of his apartment. A belt loosely looped around her neck served as a thrill-inducing leash. His hands had left faint impressions on each cheek of her voluptuous ass. Then came the last piece: her hot, panting body bouncing on his lap, moaning freely as she rode him. Freshly creamed, she shifted her hips, grinding with his cock deeply buried inside. He laughed, whispering, “Going to cum in her one more time, then send her home.”
Not long after, she texted to say she was on her way back. I sat, cock aching, stroking to stay hard and hold the fantasy. Forty-five minutes later, my goddess arrived.
Liz entered wearing an oversized shirt—his shirt. Sweat-soaked gym clothes abandoned, he’d lent it to her. The garment barely reached past her rounded belly, leaving her pert ass cheeks dangerously exposed. Every movement threatened to unveil her radiant nakedness. I smirked, teasing, “God damn, you weren’t planning to go out like that, were you?”
Her mischievous grin deepened as she replied, “Well, I did have to get gas.”
She recounted pumping fuel at the station, standing by her car when an older man pulled in next to her. His gaze lingered long and unashamed on her shapely legs. As she finished, she “accidentally” dropped her keys, bending over at the waist with legs slightly parted—precisely so—and reached for them. The shirt betrayed her, slipping forward and bunched atop her breasts, openly revealing her swollen pussy and round, firm ass. Startled only momentarily, she rose, faced the stunned man with a playful “oopsie,” and drove away, leaving him utterly flabbergasted.
I was drenched in lust, watching my gorgeous pregnant wife clad only in the borrowed shirt. Longing to taste her, I asked if I might eat her out. Her eyes flicked to mine, sparkling with mischief as she shook her head.
“What?” I breathed, surprised.
“You had your chance and said no,” she answered, smiling wickedly. “Now that I’ve been filled and satisfied so many times, I’m too tired and sore for you tonight.” She peeled off the man’s shirt, handing it to me. “You should wash this for him.”
My gaze followed her as she strode toward our bedroom, completely naked, the faint imprint of his hands still pressed on her perfect, swollen ass. The image seared into my mind as the door closed behind her.
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