Anything You Need

ANYTHING YOU NEED

My roommate, Heather, was an enterprising young woman. When she heard her friends Christopher and Nathan were looking for a woman to donate an egg and carry a child for them, she volunteered to do it for half as much as they were prepared to spend on a more qualified, traditional surrogate. Most surrogates have to take a pregnancy of their own to term prior to acting as a professional surrogate. Chris and Nathan liked the idea, though, of spending $15,000 rather than $30,000, and, hopefully more importantly, they liked the idea of receiving genetic material from their close (and undeniably beautiful) friend Heather. And so it was decided.

My name is Jenny, by the way. Heather and I were both 20 years old at the time, juniors in college who had just moved off-campus a few months before the start of this adventure through pregnancy. As I said up top, Heather was very enterprising, a real go-getter. She liked the idea of doing a favor for her good friends who couldn't do it for themselves, and she loved the idea of rather passively making a bunch of money. To boot, she felt that her drinking days had pretty much run their course by 2+ years into college; it would be no great loss on that front. I made a point of questioning her regarding her feelings about pregnancy itself; she shrugged and said "Everyone does it." I suppose to her that suggested that it would be easy. Personally, I was under no such misconception. Naturally, though, I wanted to support my friend and roommate.

"Anything you need, just ask," I told her once the whole thing was set in stone. In spite of her idea that this all would be a cakewalk, she seemed very happy to have someone close in her corner. I'd be a support person sleeping in the same one-bedroom apartment as she, a tangible comfort to her. I was very happy to do this: I loved Heather, and thought she was being remarkably brave and generous.

Heather underwent hormone treatments in preparation for IVF treatments. She was an emotional nightmare for about 2 weeks. I promised her I wouldn't write too much about that brief period of time, though. The first attempt at egg retrieval and fertilization was successful; she was pregnant a mere 6 weeks after hearing of her friends' desire to become parents.

Another 6 weeks later, morning sickness began. Heather seemed somewhat complacent during her first month-and-a-half of pregnancy, borderline arrogant about the fact that she had been impregnated and felt completely fine. Morning sickness acted as a brutal reality check. This was the point at which Heather began taking me up on my offer of help. "Anything you need..." I'd promised. That guarantee would certainly be tested.

The "morning" label was a real misnomer: Heather was sick nearly 24/7 for weeks. I cleaned vomit from most of the surfaces in our apartment. I dispensed saltines and ginger ale multiple times daily. I regularly guided her to the toilet when she couldn't do anything but momentarily delay puking. I'm not regularly squeamish or particularly germaphobic, but it was kind of a lot of vomit to deal with; I cleaned our place obsessively.

Another early pregnancy symptom was Heather's breasts swelling. I thought I'd noticed her usually modest rack becoming a little more substantial; she confirmed it, complaining of their increased tenderness as they grew. One morning, I watched her massage them in the early morning light while she thought I was still sleeping. When she took her bra off, I could only assume the level of contrast between her bosom's skin and the color of her nipples was another pregnancy byproduct: it was quite the extreme difference. I watched her massage her newly-grown chest and gently rub her darkened nipples for a solid 5 minutes.

I just could not seem to avert my gaze, risky as observing my exposed friend may have been. The view gave me certain feelings toward Heather with which I was heretofore unfamiliar. They were mostly localized to my crotch, it seemed. I was alarmed by the whole situation, never having had so much as a twinge of lesbian feeling prior to observing Heather rub her pregnant tits. What did all this suggest about me, about my relationship with my roommate? I managed to watch extensively and escape uncaught, luckily. So, I'd at least be able to sort through these new feelings of attraction on my own.

Heather's belly began to swell at around 15 weeks into the pregnancy. It was hard to keep my eyes off this physical growth, too; they were usually glued to her burgeoning midsection whenever I thought I could get away with a stolen glance. For her part, she couldn't seem to keep her hands off her growing bump. She rubbed and played with her new belly near-constantly; I was somewhat envious of this, desperately wanting to get my own hands on it. I would soon get my opportunity.

My roommate complained extensively about her developing soreness, located especially in her swelling belly and strained lower back. On one pained moan-filled morning, Heather finally asked for my help in alleviating the discomfort. She sat facing away from me on the couch and pulled her shirt up a bit so I could rub her bare back. I focused on the lower part just as requested, stopping just short of the butt crack Heather wasn't aware she was flashing me. The moans escaping her lips quickly turned from pained to pleasured. "Oh my God, Jenny," she managed with what breath remained, "that feels so amazing." I kept going, and she kept moaning. It was...intriguing, let's say. "Would you mind..." she began after a few minutes, stopping just short of making another request.

"Whatever you need, Heather. What were you going to say?" I prodded.

She paused for a moment. "Well, it's a little familiar, maybe, but...would you rub my tummy for me? It's so sore these days, it might really help..." I was thrilled to be asked, and wasted not a second. I went for it immediately, slipping my hands around her sides to get to the bare belly facing the direction opposite me. Her skin was soft but the feel of it was rather firm when pushed in upon. It was delectable all around, and I explored it comprehensively via this rub.

I was glad Heather was facing away from me, as she couldn't see in my face just how arousing this whole thing was for me. The feel of the belly had me seriously hot and bothered, soft smooth skin covering a burgeoning firmness within turned out to be a total turn-on for yours truly. Her moans of relieved pleasure at my massaging didn't reduce my increasing arousal, that was for certain. In the bathroom once the rub was over, I found that my panties were soaked through with my juices. This did not surprise me in the least.

Proceeding from this successful first instance, my massaging Heather became routine. Belly rubs remained consistent items on the menu, much to my continued delight. The most comfortable orientation we discovered for this was laying next to each other on Heather's bed. She'd lean her head against my shoulder as I rubbed her down, frequently using baby oil. I absolutely loved how shiny and silky her skin was after I applied the oil; I never missed a chance to suggest we utilize the gentle moisturizer. There wasn't a single instance of me being the one to end a belly rub: I'd just keep massaging, prodding, and exploring till my friend tired of the activity. I just never seemed to get sick of it, no amount of time ever satiating my hungrily rubbing hands.

Heather asked me to attend an OB-GYN visit with her about halfway through the pregnancy. The examinations she underwent at these appointments were intrusive and embarrassing, and she felt she really needed a support person with her. I was happy to oblige, of course: I was fascinated by just about every aspect of what she was going through and was eager to learn even more from a doctor.

While we sat in the exam room waiting for the doctor to enter, Heather had to disrobe and don the paper gown typical of such a situation. At her suggestion I turned away to allow her some privacy, but I happened to prematurely glance back in her direction just as she was arranging herself laying down on the exam table. Thus, I got my first brief glimpse of her exposed genitals. I'd never seen them before, but I imagined they might be pregnancy-swollen like so much of the rest of her was. Her pussy lips seemed exaggeratedly puffy, whatever the reason. She was still managing to shave down there, apparently, as she was completely free of pubic hair. The whole thing was quite the attractive sight to behold, that hot and bothered feeling in my loins immediately returning. I was too distracted thinking about the crotch I'd seen to pay attention to much of anything the OB-GYN ended up telling Heather. It was my bad.

One evening a week or so later, I went out drinking with some other, non-expectant friends. We had a nice time; it felt good to blow off steam with an activity I hadn't engaged in much lately. When I returned to the apartment, I found Heather lying in her bed and moaning softly. "Are you all right, sweetie?" I asked over-loudly, drunkenness overwhelming my ability to speak at a quiet, preggo-calming volume.

"Oh, Jenny, I'm so glad you're back," she replied. "Would you be a dear and come rub my tummy for me?" Yes, I most certainly would. I applied the baby oil without bothering to ask, still approaching things more clumsily than usual in my intoxication. I rubbed every square inch of her belly, exploring Heather's pregnancy even more comprehensively than usual. My hands drifted lower and high than usual, too, occasionally brushing against her upper pubic region or the bottoms of her breasts. After one of these instances of making brief breast contact, I drunkenly went for it; I fully grabbed her right boob through her tank top.

A moan escaped her lips, not the first of the evening but deeper and more protracted than the others had been. Wordlessly, she pulled her tank top over her head and tossed it to the floor. I squirted some more baby oil into my palms and got to work on her beautifully plump, dark-nippled titties. Her breasts were massaged extensively, nipples pinched gently whenever I got the urge. A look of gratitude flitted across her face when our eyes briefly met; we didn't hold the gaze for more than a moment. It was a bit too intense and intimate feeling for me, at least.

I could only guess at what Heather was feeling about all this, though. The intensity and escalated level of sexuality freaked me out a little bit and turned me on more than a little bit. What were Heather's motivations in presenting her breasts for a massage? Was it just to relieve the pressure and soreness resulting from rapid growth? Was she into me sexually, waiting for a chance to escalate things just as I had been? We didn't discuss these matters, so I couldn't be at all certain.

I accompanied Heather on another preggo errand, this time to Motherhood to buy some maternity apparel when she was about 25 weeks along. She'd been tightly hanging on to the pre-pregnancy wardrobe that was proving less and less capable of covering her growing belly. This was more than fine with me for around the apartment, but was a little less than dignified for Heather whenever she had to venture outside. A knocked-up college student receives more than enough public stares without flashing all that bare underbelly. So, we went shopping.

She modeled numerous articles of clothing for me; it was a real treat to watch. Blouses with extra room in the belly, jeans with stretchy maternity panels, form-fitting bodycon dresses, clingy leggings that fully covered the bump: Heather tried it all. She ended up buying two pairs of pants and three tops, just barely enough to keep her belly covered when she had to go out in public. I ended up rubbing one out in the Motherhood bathroom; as I did, I couldn't help but wonder how many other perverts had masturbated there following maternity fashion shows. The thought really did it for me.

The next night, I awoke around 2 in the morning to Heather sitting at the foot of my bed. I sat up, yawned, and asked if everything was all right. "Umm, yeah, everything's all right," she replied, sounding rather nervous. "I just need...your help, if that's okay?" I nodded; she continued. "Remember when you said 'anything you need,' when I first got pregnant? Well, I need something...intimate. I'm very frustrated, Jenny. Like, sexually frustrated? And I don't really feel like I can go cruising for guys in my current condition. So, I was wondering if you'd at all be willing to help me...help me...get off."

Her hands nervously rubbed her belly in little circles through her thin tank top. I wondered briefly why she didn't just masturbate like the rest of us did when we felt sexually frustrated. But I didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, of course, and wasn't about to pass up this beautiful opportunity. Things were finally progressing between us, as I'd lately fantasized they might.

I had Heather take off her tank top and shorts and get under the covers with me. Even in our dark bedroom it was a thrill to get just the briefest glimpse of the gorgeous, fully nude, quite pregnant Heather. Her gestation-darkened nipples were jet black in the dark room. There were several inches of separation between breasts and belly, but you could tell the former were being pulled down and the latter was taking up more and more space in every direction: they'd meet in the middle at some point in the near future. The bump was pretty adorable, rounded but still quite muscular-looking given Heather's athletic physique.

Once she was in the bed with me, I couldn't help but get my hands on that soft-yet-tight belly of hers. I didn't bother pretending the frequent contact my hands made with breasts and pubic region were incidental: we were now well past the point of feigned accidents. The pretext of this being yet another simple belly rub only lasted for a minute or two; then, I conspicuously shifted my focus to tits and crotch.

I used both hands, simultaneously squeezing a hard nipple and firmly rubbing the area just above her pussy. Everything I touched felt positively divine. My hand quickly drifted its way down from this pussy-adjacent area to her pussy itself. Heather was wet in anticipation of my touch, moaning as soon as I made full-on contact. I'd never before touched a pussy that wasn't my own. I can't say I didn't love it. It felt so warm, so welcoming to my fingers. Its intricacies were wondrous to explore: a round clit to rub, fleshy folds upon folds to flip through, an inviting hole to get a finger or two into.

I started with just the one finger in her once I got down to her opening, but transitioned to two within a few seconds. It was amazingly tight and wet in there, a real pleasure to finger-fuck. In and out I went, satisfying sounds escaping both from down there and from the lips around her mouth. While the left alternated between belly and tits, my right hand kept at it vaginally. I didn't want to stop the finger-fucking, though I knew more clitoral stimulation would probably be a necessity if I wanted to get Heather off. So, both hands went down to her crotch, the left positioning her round clit between its index and middle fingers. I kept at it in this fashion for about five minutes, Heather's moans consistently increasing in volume. She really must've had some pent-up sexual energy: her climax was super intense, rocking her body and producing a host of involuntary vocalizations. The dark room was filled with the horny, wet sounds of our actions; I loved every moment of it.

Even after this dalliance, though, I had no real idea where Heather and I stood. Had we engaged in such sexy play merely to satisfy the physical requirements of a needy pregnant woman? Was this a little favor akin to giving up one's seat on the bus, or something more than that? And what was this for me, exactly? A lesbian thing, a pregnant thing, or some combination of the two? I couldn't tell exactly what I was feeling, never mind where Heather's head might have been.

I'd been up most of the rest of the night just thinking about what all this meant, just as Heather slept next to me in my tiny bed like a conjoined twin. Finally, as Heather stirred herself out of sleep around 8 in the morning, I made my move. My hands went down into the bed we were sharing so I could remove her panties. Her eyes widened dramatically upon opening; she shot me a huge smile. So far, slightly enlightening: it seemed she was still into this in the light of day, so it hadn't been a mere middle-of-the-night impulse. I started to rub her pussy once her underwear was off, though this wasn't the end goal of my actions this morning. I had to escalate things beyond what she'd suggested the night before, see if she was into my advancing things.

After pulling the blankets off us, I slowly but surely slid down to the foot of the bed to get my face aligned with Heather's crotch. Hand stimulation was one thing, I figured; going down on her was an entirely different, far more intimate proposition. I maintained eye contact as I got into position. She maintained her gaze and her smile, definitely seeming excited by what I was about to do. I received some type of encouraging message from this, adding to the gusto with which I performed my first attempt at cunnilingus.

I gripped her bump with both hands above my head as I started with my lips and tongue. She tasted sort of acidic, just a tad sour; not unpleasant in the least. I worked her outer folds first, working my way inward to the wetter and warmer parts. My tongue flicked into her hole briefly before I moved up to suck her clit. Her moans were many and voluminous. I used my teeth to occasionally and gingerly pinch her clit, my tongue to massage it in tight circles, and my entire mouth to produce some gratifying suction. The suction especially did it for Heather, I could tell from how loud her vocalizations got when I did it. I got her off twice in about five minutes, impressing myself (and, presumably, her) with my enthusiastic rookie technique.

I loved going down on a woman, it turned out. A pregnant woman, anyway. And Heather was clearly quite aroused and pleased by the whole thing. I wasn't sure what labels should be applied to each of us or the two of us as a pair, but I at least knew there was something blatantly sexual going on: these weren't simple platonic favors I was performing.

I felt hot and bothered throughout the day following our morning session. Neither of us seemed to have much time for further fooling around at the moment due to an influx of schoolwork. By the evening, I was driving myself crazy thinking about Heather's beautiful pregnant body. I wanted to rub her belly, grope her tits, go crazy with her pussy. I wanted to experience her fully. Instead of professing the extent of my desires and trying to do something about it with my roommate, I opted to masturbate once our lights were out for the night.

I waited until I could hear the soft, rhythmic sound of Heather's sleeping breath. Once I felt safe in her no longer being conscious, I began working. One hand massaged a nipple, the other worked my clit with a small vibrator. It was just how I liked to treat myself. My fantasies and the pleasure of the act got a bit away from me, my grunts and moans insistently increasing in volume. I saw Heather stir slightly at one point and paused until I felt sure her sleeping state was resumed. Again, though, I got carried away with the sensations and the sexually explicit fantasizing, getting louder and louder as I continued. My eyes happened to glance in Heather's direction; she was silently sitting up, flagrantly staring in my direction.

I made the split-second decision to continue the show she was apparently enjoying. I kept working my cunt with the vibrator, nipple-rubbing hand now down at my crotch to get two fingers into myself. I went and went, borderline shrieking by the end of the performance. My first orgasm came after six or seven minutes of clitoral stimulation; I kept on going, getting off again within another two or three minutes. I'm not sure I'd ever cum twice that close together before, but I'm also not sure I'd ever been this aroused before. I finished, finally, after my second shuddering climax fully subsided. Still wordlessly, the two of us relaxed back into our respective beds in tandem. I slept like a baby for the rest of the night.