Expecting 1

Sick thoughts. They were sick, sick thoughts. Yet no matter how much he tried to get them out of his head, they came back – whispered to him, tapped on his shoulder like the first wisps of smoke from a building on fire.

Everyday, as he walked into his friendly San Francisco office he couldn't help but notice the curvature of her body. The perfectly packed pout of her round girlish ass. The elegant slope of her forearm to finger. The rosy as red apple sheen to her hormonal skin. And most of all her bump – just three months and growing in her warm, voluptuous oven.

This would be Greta's second child – and he knew that the last thing on her mind was another boy from the office. She had her man. The father of her child and children to be. The one that planted the seed deep inside of her and anxiously awaited it to blossom from her womb.

But still, if she had any kind of sexual radar on in her expectant body she must know. She must sense his body grow weak every time she cozied up within several inches of him. She must have felt the air sucked into his lungs – or a slight change in body temperature whenever he had to glide by her and her ass as she bent over to reload a printer, or unshelve a useful volume for company research.

She was older than him – perhaps even a decade. Her powers of detection must have been strong enough to know.

He was a mess and he was in lust with this girl. And she was pregnant.

And that was life. And it was beautiful.

ROBERT AND KATRINA

Robert lived with his girlfriend outside the city in an urban neighborhood.

At 27 he had developed a fairly disciplined but fulfilling life. His girlfriend Katrina was two years younger than him, and she had brought the cat, and the plants, and the love into his life.

She was shorter than him too, and had a fondness for old jazz records, childlike poetry, kids, and riding her bicycle.

She was kind of a blessing for the lonesome dreamer Robert – who was more of a writer/poet/musician type – although what he really didn't mind doing was getting his hands on a box of pastels and drawing. Big colorful messes of art – some of which he deemed 'worthy' and others he kind of crumpled up or disregarded. On a Sunday before work, Robert would sit in the window of the couple's loft, look out into the courtyard, and just let his hands talk.

This particular Sunday he felt compelled to draw in peaches and reds. He picked up and tried each pastel before holding it at the top of the paper and then arcing his wrist and pulling the line down, until it resembled something like a half moon. It really felt good to just let go, and he kept picking Earthy colors and making the arches.

It was springtime and outside he could see the leaves starting to bud and the flowers starting to turn their many colors. The pollen was in the air and he was a bit drunk on the whole moment.

As he picked up a sea blue he got this image in his head of that arch he kept drawing. Except it wasn't blue but burning red. He could almost touch it in his subconscious, but was afraid to – like he might get an electric shock or something. It was full, and light red, and smooth – just like Greta's belly at work. 'Oh,'he thought, semi-deleriously yet enraptured. 'What an image.'

To honor her arch he delicately rubbed in the rest of the image. And then sat back and looked at his art – to see if it did her and her arch any justice.

He breathed heavily. An ocean of a breath. And just then he felt a body get close to his.

'Hi honey' said Katrina. 'I brought you something to drink.'

She handed him a lemonade. 'Nice moon, Robert,' she said in a half-mocking, half-appreciative way.

'Thanks' Robert said dreamily. 'I really like this moon.' Katrina started to run her hands through his hair, and Robert suddenly felt a wash of warmth spread across his inner thighs.

'Mmm, you love me, don't you?' he said to Katrina, extending a hand to ample bosom in a light spring dress.

'Not so fast,' she said. 'You have to drink my lemonade.'

'Very well then,' Robert said, removing his hand.

He sipped the lemonade, and they discussed their plans for the week. Katrina had arranged for them to go see a comedy show that her friend was appearing in North Beach. It was actually in the basement of an older church called St. Agnes.

As he put down his finished glass Robert looked out the window at the trees.

'What's wrong?'Katrina asked her preoccupied mate.

She ran her hand over his head and kissed his brow. Her sweet air made him awake once again and he began kissing her wet, feminine lips. She removed her eyeglasses and pushed herself into the moment. He felt her young body close in on his frame and he let one hand fall to her buttocks as he groped her bosom and kissed her deeply.

The two bodies hovered over to the couch, and he felt all the muscles in the insides of his thighs tighten as he began to thrust his body on top of hers. She whimpered slightly and kissed him back, then let her soft white hands undue the top of his trousers as he hiked up her skirt and laid his palm on her magnificently hot and wet vulva, which was now crying through her panties for attention.

Pulling the white cloth aside he let two of his fingers slide into her abyss, nudging each one in up to the knuckle, and then daring to let a third hang down to tease his girlfriend's little sensitive asshole.

She really liked it when he did that – and he began to push more aggressively against her parts as she rocked her soft comforting body against his on the couch.

'Robert' she moaned. 'I love you.'

'I love you too honey,' he said, wrenching his spry, long dick free from his boxers and guiding it towards her hungry cunt. The first kiss of her wet pussy on the head of his cock sent convulsions of pleasure throughout his abdomen, and he felt the sudden pressure to fill her up – to fill her completely up – and to deposit all of his spunk deep in her core.

He angled his pelvis to push her legs apart as she wrapped her arms around him and spread her thighs, and he inched his member down her vaginal tract, bit by bit, deep inside, spreading her hot labial flesh and causing her to naturally bring her knees up to her chest and rock back and forth in a reflex to fucking.

As her body quieted down and got used to his thick size she began to feel her muscles tingle, then tighten. 'Don't stop' she breathed. Don't stop.'

He quickened his pace, lightening his jimmy in and out of her, feeling the pressure build inside of him each time his balls slapped against her round ass.

'Oh Robert, fuck me," she whined pornographically.

He heaved heavy air like a horse moving forward and he felt her hole tighten as the beads of sweat began to glisten and run off his back.

Her whole body began to tighten and spasm, and she began to climax on him – squeezing uncontrollably tight, digging her nails into his back and fucking every one of his deep thrusts back. As he felt her cry out and peak he decided to let go and reached for an image that would send him over the top. He pictured himself in a black room with a woman – with Greta – thrusting in and out of her little ass. The streams of cum started to mingle in Katrina's cunt – and Robert began to give in at her urging. He grabbed the back of her head and pulled it into his chest as he rocked harder and harder and deeper until he spasmed and his thick load shot out on her insides. His body kept moving quick, but he instantly felt cooler and felt a sort of numbness spread like a mild ice cream headache from the bottom of his spine to the front of his brain. His body relaxed and he knew he had peaked. The two of them lay there on the couch on a Sunday afternoon in the euphoric glow of post-coital conquest. 'Oh shit, 'Robert said. 'Oh shit.' She ran a hand across his chest and teased its hair and nipples. They were in love.

GRETA'S ITCH

Greta spent most of her mornings behind her desk, dutifully working.

She was a Dutch girl from Utrecht, and she took her job pretty seriously. But every now and then she clicked over to a Dutch women's forum to read up on other women and their bumps. Most of the topics were standard – about hormones and the nesting instinct – but one caught her eye.

'Does your pregnancy make you insatiable?'it read in Dutch. She went on to explore the list and read the testimonies of many different Dutch women who found themselves not only with morning sickness in the first trimester, but craving physical attention from their husbands.

Though she would blush to admit it to anyone in the office, these women were right. She had never felt (or it seemed looked) as sexy as she did when she was pregnant.

Her ash brown hair looked alive. The early wrinkles under her eyes seemed to heal up.

It must be a girl she thought – for all of these female hormones to be exploding all over her body.

'Oh my God – it's so sexy' she thought. She thought of her husband Max fucking her the way he did. He was a really good lay – and he had a nice sized dick. Just the thoughts of sizing up her husbands elephant trunk exciting her and she thought she really just had to go pee to cool herself off, and let some of that hot piss satisfy her for now.

She got up from the desk and started to walk towards the door when Robert came in.

Robert was about 7 years younger than she was, she reckoned, and he was the cutest boy at work – the one that was a little shy, but with a sweet side. The one, who if stuck on a desert island with, she would have no problem using to continue the human species.

'Good morning, Robert,'she said in her soft Germanic accent. 'Good morning, Greta'he replied. There was something so comforting in his body – she thought. Whenever she had to get close to him in the office it was as if every muscle relaxed. Sex signals, she thought. Radar. She was no twit. Buts she had a date to go the restroom and to ease her itch.

In the restroom she guided herself towards the last stall and sat down. There was a newspaper on the floor and she began to read on about those funny Americans Jessica Simpson and Angelina Jolie – as her naked finger snaked its way up and down her ravine.

She looked down and she liked what she saw. She loved her vagina – and she loved it more now that she was pregnant. She loved tracing a signature over her pink lips and relished pushing her clit ever so slightly. She began to work her slender fingers and developed a sort of groove or rhythm as she read on about the news. She knew she really shouldn't get off in the ladies toilet, but her finger kept its rhythm and so she began to squeeze her leg muscles and rub her flesh.

She began to think about Max and his big muscle and how it filled her box up. She really enjoyed the late night fuckings they had had. But she knew that not just Max could get her off in a quick way so she would have to go a little dirty. As she toyed with her wet flesh she began to envision another man – a bit silent, a bit dark, but handsome and warm – with a long body, and a long penis.

As he guided her to the bed in her fantasy she opened herself to him and let him have his way with her. She enthusiastically sucked him and let him have her ass and her face and finally her pussy - yes her pussy, where he would shoot his thick hot load. Mmm. The pleasure.

She continued to itch at herself – building a rhythm and embracing the strong man of her fantasy who took her ass, who took her everything, who used her like a rubber and threw her away.

Christ he was big. He stretched her with that big cock... GASP. When you withhold a loud orgasm the one that comes is a bit different and Greta essentially felt her body implode. It was like that idea of seeing stars. She felt a bit delirious and her body began to chill and convulse. Cold sweat built up on the back of her neck. She was light headed but then reclaimed her sense of place

'Ah,' She thought. 'Now that is what English-speakers call 'the big O.''

After she had calmed her pink pussy lips in the ladies, Greta returned to clarity. She remembered that Max was having a show that Thursday night in a comedy production in North Beach.

She had promised him to get as many of her coworkers to come, and so she dutifully announced to her coworkers when she got back from the ladies that they should all come and spend $5 to see Max and his colleagues perform at the church.

'I'm going, Robert' said matter of factly. 'My girlfriend's sister is in that show.'

Robert looked cute, Greta thought in a relaxed way. Maybe he was her mystery date in the ladies. 'Oh,' Greta smiled from behind her work station. 'See you there.'

BARE AS A BODKIN

City Thursdays in Spring sometimes were wet and moist, sometimes were cold and windy, but on special occasions were humid and warm a prelude to summer.

Bars filled up after work, and all the good looking city people got together to drink beer, shoot pool, and engage in ancient courting rituals.

While Katrina and Robert needed neither spirits nor atmosphere to get their grooves on, they decided to have a few beers before catching her sister Lila in the show at St. Agnes.

The performance was called "Bare as a Bodkin" and it was some sort of raunchy take on Shakespeare. As they walked to the theater the two began to hold hands.

'You know some people from work might be here tonight,' Robert said trying to make small talk.

'Oh yeah, who?' asked Katrina. 'Well, I know that Greta's husband Max is performing, so I guess we'll see Greta.'

'Oh' said Katrina. 'That's cool.'

Robert could tell that Katrina was a bit jealous. The truth was she knew that he probably liked her – she knew her boyfriend's postures, his language, the way he said a woman's name. Sensing his girlfriend's apprehension he decided to proclaim her lack of accessibility to him.

'Yeah, she's expecting,' he said.

'Oh yeah?' Katrina said, returning from her analytical detachment. 'How far a long is she?'

'Three months, 'Robert answered.

When they got to St. Agnes they saw that it was going to be a big show. The line was out the church's basement door and all sorts of hipster kids were outside smoking and joking.

Katrina and Robert waited in line, and slowly worked their way to the table where two young women, dressed as nymphs out of A Midsummer Night's Dream, took their $10 and stamped their hands. They then proceeded into the main chamber, which was entirely black and surrounded by bleachers. Katrina and Robert worked their way up to the top of one side and got a good seat.

Robert strained to recognize any of the guys from work, but couldn't see anybody. Then out of the corner of his eye he spied her shape across the stage and at the front row. She was dressed in a dark velvety dress and had on black heels. She looked SEXY.

The bleachers began to fill up until the whole room was heavy with breathing and anticipation – when one of the nymphs came on stage and launched into a very risqué sonnet. The audience laughed, but Robert was preoccupied with the mass across from him. He thought about her bump and he felt a noticeable twang in his penis.

There were several men on stage, but Robert couldn't tell which one was Max. He assumed he was the bigger guy – but who knew. All he knew is that he just wanted to keep sneaking glances at his coworker Greta, and he did until she got up about half an hour into the show – just about the same time he felt a pressure on his bladder from the beer he had had earlier.

He asked one of the non-acting nymphs to point him towards the restrooms and she instructed him to go through a series of doors towards the back of the church, behind the kitchen. He almost got lost, but finally wound his way through the maze to the men's restroom where he let go of his huge burden. He cleaned himself off and buttoned up and turned around to leave, all the time thinking of Greta and her legs and her bump, and her smile. He 'must have a crush'he thought, hoping that if he classified his emotions they would go away.

But then he saw her coming the opposite direction. In her gorgeous medieval outfit. Their eyes met and he felt like he had been shot with 120 volts of energy.

'Hi Greta.'

'Oh – it's so good you came,' she said. She seemed cheerful and less industrious than her normal workself. They exchanged a bit of awkward body language but then Robert blurted out 'You look really nice tonight.'

'Thank you, so do you' she said. This was terrible he thought. He had to do something. He had to say something, and the alcohol in his system just let his true thoughts slip out without warning.

'I think you look really nice – especially because you are pregnant,' he said.

'Oh you are not the only one who has noticed,' Greta replied with a grin. 'I have noticed too. I think I am having a girl because of all this estrogen in my body. 'She reached down and touched her bump and moved closer to him.

'Here, feel,' she said. 'Feel my bump.' She pulled her nervous hand closer and put it on her belly.

The bump felt somewhere between soft and hard. He was nervous to touch it too heavily, but felt calmed by the bump. She looked up at him, a kind of deep glare in her eyes and breathed heavily. 'You know Robert,' she said with a hysterical tinge to her voice.

'I really want to kiss you. Will you kiss me?'

he leaned forward and kissed her forehead and then her nose, and then...my God...her mouth. 'I just feel so sexy since I have been pregnant,' Greta said sensitively, wrapping her arms around his tree trunk of a waist. 'I just feel so aroused all the time.'

They began to kiss and Robert felt like a 14 year old in the middle of his first time. The air seemed so cold and he felt afraid because he was kissing another man's wife, and afraid because she was pregnant, but overwhelmed by whatever pheromones escaped from her body and deeply in love with her scent, a scent he had breathed so deeply.

'Please come with me' she said, leading him down a hall way through a door to a dark room. She flicked on a switch and there hung many robes worn by priests and lay people.

'Here' she said, 'help me take this thing off.' Robert helped her lift the skirt off her trim body revealing nothing underneath but her angelic form – her tiny, yet swollen breasts, like a 15 year-old's, so soft they would fit perfect in his hand. And of course her tummy, which started at the base of her rib cage, and protruded out in a natural arc just like he had thought of – perfect, hot and growing.

'Can I?,'Robert hesitated. 'Can I kiss it?' She planted hot kisses on his cheeks and guided his face down to her bump. He kneeled before her and began to plant little daisies of kisses along the lining of her skin, hiding them in her pelvic valleys, and stopping to feel her curly black pubic hair tickle his chin.

She looked so gorgeous in the cloakroom light and he felt a bit overwhelmed down on his knees. But he stood up and she began to unbutton his shirt and pants. They soon were both completely hot and naked and she decided to take advantage of the situation.

'Robert – I want you to fuck me'she said. 'I want you in every orifice of me'she said as she guided his cock towards her thigh. She then slowly kneeled down and began to plant kisses along his rod, looking up to savor the feeling of another man's big dick in her palm. Robert, as she expected, was quite long and thick and engorged by the sight of her angelic body. She felt so hot as she let his big thickness come into her mouth. She toyed with his p-spot as he grabbed masses of her hair and stood at attention and continued to bob her head up and down on his big dick. He mumbled and a certain giddiness began to spur in his testes as the night air hit his shaft as she savored him. He thought about where he would fuck her, in her throat, in her puckered little ass, that tight little ass, and finally deep in her mystic oven, where the next generation was brewing.