My wife and I are eagerly awaiting our first child, a joyous milestone for us both. We had paused our adventurous lifestyle to focus on conceiving, so this new chapter was especially significant—and unquestionably mine.
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Around three months into her pregnancy, the changes were subtle but noticeable—a delicate baby bump beneath her workout gear. She confided in me how intensely aroused she was, craving my touch, but I was overwhelmed at work, juggling extra responsibilities and nonstop calls. I promised to make time for her once things calmed down, though part of me secretly wondered if withholding would nudge her toward seeking pleasure elsewhere.
That afternoon, she headed to the gym, waves of desire coursing through her. Dressed in high-rise bike shorts that hugged her growing belly and a snug sports bra, she felt the heat of her own longing. There was a man she often spoke to—a respectful, handsome Black man who never crossed any boundaries despite their friendly exchanges and shared numbers. But this day, something shifted.
After lifting weights, she cooled off on the treadmill when he joined her, stepping onto the machine beside her. Noticing an edge in her voice, he asked what was troubling her. Vulnerable and flushed, she shared her frustration—her passion craving release, and my neglect.
He admired her openly, telling her she looked “hot as hell,” and if he were her husband, he’d already be inside her. A flicker of honesty slipped forth—his attraction to pregnant women. She met his gaze with a sultry challenge: “Oh, do you now?” They abandoned the treadmills, the air thick with tension. He looked her over appreciatively, his voice low and confident, “Your stunning curves would look incredible riding me.” That promise unleashed a tidal wave of heat inside her. She noticed the bulge straining against his shorts and matched his daring with a whispered reply: “How about we find out?”
Midday offered little privacy at the gym or in the parking lot, so he invited her to his nearby apartment. They drove separately, anticipation crackling between them. Before anything intimate, she insisted on his cleanliness if he wanted to forgo protection. He showed her recent test results—absolute proof—and assured her she would be the first to share his touch since.
Her craving outweighed all caution. Though uncertain of his size, his confident energy told her he’d satisfy her needs. When she slid his shorts and boxers down, her breath caught—a thick, mocha-hued cock, roughly the width of a soda can and over eight inches long, semi-hard and ready, promising exactly the stretch she yearned for.
She took him eagerly on his couch, lips and tongue worshipping him before mounting his length. Afterward, she revealed her desire for doggy style. Without hesitation, he swept her up and carried her to the bedroom, laying her down with urgency. They sank into slow, deep missionary strokes, then paused so she could flip over. He delayed entry, trailing playful spanks across her firm, pregnant ass, the flesh jiggling beneath his hand. His fingers brushed teasingly inside her, then found her velvet anus, delicately licking and probing as he pushed her to the edge.
Meanwhile, I finally finished my work and reached out, only to find my calls unanswered. Then came a video: her phone facing out as he thrust into her from behind. Her voice, husky with pleasure, said, “You wouldn’t fuck me, so I found someone who would.” Another clip followed, the same position, “And by the way, he’s way bigger than you.” His hand slapped her curves, the video cutting off as my pulse raced. Shock and desire crashed over me in waves. We hadn’t planned any new boundaries post-conception, and though stunned, I was wildly turned on. My hand moved to my aching cock beneath the desk.
More messages arrived—his perspective this time. No condom, thick cock sliding deep inside her, thumb teasing her ass, words dripping with anticipation: “I think I’m going to cum in your wife, bud.” Her pussy gripped him fiercely, stretched beyond limits, craving more. Watching this stranger ravage my pregnant wife ignited something I hadn’t expected. Another clip zoomed on her swollen, leaking pussy, dripping with his cum. Seeing her so filled, parted and hot, I came hard, overwhelmed by the rawness.
A tender photo soon followed—naked, entwined on his bed, her head resting against his chest, lips locked as his half-hard cock lay teasingly against her belly. “Might take a quick nap here,” she texted with a devilish smile, “He made me cum so hard now I’m sleepy.” The image left me trembling with desire; my cock hardened again as I stroked myself, lost in fantasies.
Then another video surfaced: her wrapped around him, oral surrender, “I think she wants round two.” Following that, she bent over a floor-to-ceiling window, his belt grazing her neck like a leash, his hands marked vividly on her ass cheeks. The last clip showed her bouncing on him, moaning, her juices flowing as he pounded deep. “Gonna cum one last time then send her home,” he murmured.
When she finally arrived, she wore an oversized shirt—his shirt—barely covering the swell of her belly and the succulent curve of her ass. She’d declined her sweaty gym clothes, and just like that, she was a vision of temptation. I joked, “Hope you didn’t go anywhere like that.” Her mischievous grin was answer enough: “Had to get gas.”
Later, she recounted how at the gas station, an older man watched her brazenly. After filling her tank, she “accidentally” dropped her keys and bent over purposely, the shirt riding up to reveal every inch of her nakedness. She stood, caught his stunned gaze, smirked, and slipped away—leaving him frozen and her hungry for more.
I begged her to let me taste her, to share in her lust, but she fixed me with a captivating stare and said, “No. You had your chance and said no. Now I’m sore and satisfied. No pussy for you tonight.” She peeled off his shirt and handed it to me: laundry duty for the unlucky man. I watched as her naked, glistening ass—still marked by his hands—disappeared into our bedroom. I was left aching, consumed by the delicious torment of knowing exactly what my pregnant, insatiable wife had experienced today.