PREGNANT & PAMPERED: A DAY IN THE LIFE
MORNING
I opened my eyes right around 9:30, right arm curled around my sizable seven-and-a-half-month baby bump, hands already rubbing my pussy and my belly. My bump proved round and firm upon inspection, still riding nice and high despite its size and shape: gravity had not yet taken its toll. Stretch marks were still at a minimum, but I expected them to pick up any time now. I slept nude: by this point, no one here batted an eye at the sight of a naked pregnant woman.
Two or three minutes after awakening, I got off for the first time that day. Many more orgasms were to follow, as they did every day. Getting myself off had me pretty turned-on, so I used the intercom system to ask for a male thirty-year-old virgin to come up and watch me rub one out again. Even that specific a spectator was a modest request here, watchful eyes one of the easiest body parts for them to deliver unto me.
Growing up I hadn't even wanted children, to be perfectly honest. Then, when I was in high school, my country began pretty much worshipping pregnant ladies. Birth rates were deemed to have "dangerously decreased," triggering a huge cultural push for childbearing in order to maintain and/or grow our population. Suddenly, special government-funded homes for the knocked-up appeared. They were mansions, more accurately. Giant bedrooms with giant beds. 24/7 catering by fantastic chefs. Every need and whim seen to: my sexual ones especially, in my typically horny expectant condition. You truly couldn't do better at this moment in this society than as a pregnant woman. So, I gave in. This is my second such stay at one of these pregnancy homes. It turns out I quite like being a parent, to my great fortune, especially if I can be pampered throughout the entirety of my pregnancies.
This morning I ordered three pounds of lobster tails for breakfast, plenty of drawn butter on the side. This was a frequent culinary request of mine. I wanted to make certain I had enough protein for my growing body and baby, after all. It was a lot to ask for, but there was never any pressure to finish every ounce.
After eating, I requested a visit from one of the home's lotion specialists. She arrived quickly, her retinue of skin care products in tow as usual. On this occasion, I opted for a baby oil rub-down. I had her work every part of me that was swollen: my whole body, basically. Face, neck, shoulders, breasts, sides, butt, thighs, calves, ankles, feet: they all received careful, satisfying attention.
The belly, though, was the natural focal point of the massage. This shouldn't be too surprising: the specialist did cater exclusively to pregnant ladies. Maybe it was the regular moisturizing routine my bump underwent that had kept me free of stretch marks and other blemishes to this point. She really worked the belly comprehensively, every square inch getting a thorough rubbing. Her focus tended to drift toward my newly popped-out belly button: that isn't a complaint, just a little preference of hers that I've happened to notice. She also seemed to enjoy pushing in on the firmer parts of the bump, quite possibly mapping out where the baby seemed to be located within me at the time of our massage treatment.
Once she'd finished achieving maximum oiled belly shininess and slickness, it only took one word to get her to move on to my next desire: "Lower." This was her cue to move down to my genitals and provide me with a happy ending, as it were. I'd cum once so far this morning, and it had left me wanting much more of the same. Her hands still nice and oily, they glided along my folds and lips effortlessly; my own personal lubrication provided additional support. One of her hands ultimately found my clit, the other my hole.
She circled my clit with two fingers while three from the other hand entered me rhythmically and repeatedly. After more than seven months working together, she knew just how I liked it. My own hands gripped my big bouncing belly, a pregnancy habit I'd settled into whenever I was being serviced: I loved the feeling of my bump jiggling as the help worked my pussy. The lotion specialist got me off expertly and quickly, this stage of our time together lasting well under five minutes.
Cumming got me in the mood to cum yet again. As the lotion lady exited, I made my next request over my room's intercom: I wanted a visit from the man with an eleven-inch cock. It was easier to book a session with him in the morning. Otherwise, he was quite difficult to get a hold of. It was no mystery why he was so popular, of course: he was very well-endowed and knew how to wield that giant appendage of his quite expertly. He was my favorite fucking partner, just as he was for a great many of the women here.
As I waited the few minutes for him to arrive, I got into position in my special doggystyle chair; it was my first time out of bed this morning since getting up to pee when I first awakened. This delightful piece of furniture had been specially designed for preggos wanting to take a dick in this particular position. It softly supported your arms and legs as you kneeled into it, and even more softly supported your hanging belly. A pregnant girl could hang out in this comfy chair for an hour or more with ease; I'd done just that numerous times while a resident here.
My special date arrived once I'd been waiting in position for a few minutes. He entered the room hurriedly but took his time in entering me. "How are you doing this morning, Lexi?" he asked in a tone that suggested he really cared. We made small talk for the couple minutes it took him to disrobe and arouse us both with his hands. My pussy had been wet and waiting since before he'd arrived; he was a thoughtful sexual partner to make sure of my preparedness all the same. Though I was quite sure he'd just finished fucking another preggo down the hall, he got himself hard and ready in remarkably short order. The man seemed to have very short refractory periods in addition to his monster cock.
He finally got that thing inside me, slowly but surely. It kept going in and in and in, the shaft feeling indefinitely lengthy as he took his time to let me feel every millimeter while I took him in. My friend gripped the sides of my belly as he humped, a most pregnancy-affirming sexual technique that always got me going. His rhythm started out extremely slow but soon began to accelerate; within two or three minutes of this, his crotch was audibly thwacking against my ass with every thrust. I loved the sounds created by our colliding flesh. I managed to hold myself up with one arm for a minute or two in order to massage my clit and get off that way before my partner got me off vaginally. In time, he got me off twice in addition to the one orgasm I'd racked up with my own fingers.
He shot his load inside me, the feeling of his huge cock convulsing in my cunt a real joy as it was each and every time. The guy fucked until he was limp, letting his cock fall out of its own accord rather than pulling out once he'd climaxed. "Anything else?" he asked with heavy breath once he'd exited me.