Down in the Dumps

No, this story is not about a homeless guy who lives at the city landfill. It is about two people whose lives had been turned upside down and who were sure that their marriages would crumble. I, Lincoln Ford (yeah, my parents had a sick sense of humor, but at least everyone calls me "Link" and not "Lincoln"), was one of them.

Most spouses who start receiving disrespect from their mate aren't able to pinpoint the time that it started, or why it started. I didn't have that problem. The disrespect started after we had been married about three years when a new guy started working at my wife Mandy's workplace; his name is Bill Self. When I met him I immediately thought that the name was appropriate since "self" is what he is all about. I think that he is directly descended from the young Greek man named Narcissus who fell in love with his own image reflected in a pool of water.

I will say that Self is good looking, and probably smart and athletic since he has a degree in business from NYU and played varsity volleyball; plus, he's glib. But why women can't see how shallow and narcissist his personality is confuses me.

Shortly after meeting Self, Mandy started pinging on me about things that I thought were illegitimate, and started acting haughty. At two of her work events that I attended she acted like a star-struck teenager around him. Her attitude really started to bother me because during our entire relationship I have been somewhat insecure because I always felt that she is significantly better looking than I am even though friends or family members who sensed my feeling unsuccessfully tried to disabuse me of that notion.

One particular week seemed to trigger the culmination of my malaise. Mandy was going on a week-long business trip - with Self. She maintained that others were also going but it was impossible to pin her down about exactly who the "others" were. She was too tired, or not in the mood, for sex Saturday and Sunday nights despite the fact that she has an above average libido, and over the weekend seemed to think that I was her personal slave rather than her spouse based upon the number of "tasks" that she ordered, more than asked, me to perform. At least I did finally put my foot down when she asked me to confirm Self's flight at the time that I confirmed hers.

The perfunctory kiss she left me with on Monday morning when I dropped her off at the airport was disturbing as was her last comment: "Don't try and call me because I'll be busy; I'll call you at night when I have a chance."

The coup de grace was when on both Monday and Tuesday night she called for no more than two minutes then said "I've got to run, Bill and I need to get a quick dinner; bye." No "I love you," or any other term of endearment.

I was down in the dumps Tuesday night, and when I woke up after a fitful sleep on Wednesday morning I felt lower than a snake's belly in a wagon rut. I called into work "sick;" I really was sick; heartsick. I felt not only unloved but unlovable, devoid of charm, class, or ambition; simply put, life sucked.

I needed to do some serious thinking; I had never been so down in the dumps before in my life and I wasn't equipped with the emotional fortitude to deal with it. So, after a quick breakfast where I barely tasted my toast and eggs (which came out too wibbly, and I almost couldn't eat them without retching) I decided to take a long walk in a local park, the largest in the city.

As I moped along on a fairly isolated trail in the park I saw a pregnant woman on a bench, who appeared to be softly crying - unless she had really bad allergies. Somehow seeing someone who might be in as much pain as I was intrigued me rather than causing me to turn tail, which I might have done under other circumstances since I normally don't like to get emotionally involved with other people's problems. As I approached the softly crying woman I realized that I knew her; she was Lizbeth Wharton.

Lizbeth Wharton was not really a friend, but an acquaintance. We had seen each other in a number of places over the last three years, although I don't believe that I ever talked with her one-on-one, certainly not for more than a couple of minutes. I found her pleasant but somewhat intimidating. Why intimidating when her pre-pregnancy size was 5 feet 4 inches tall, 110 pounds (or so I surmised) and I'm six one, 185? She is intimidating because she is one of only a handful of women I had ever met in my life who I thought was better looking (in every way) than Mandy.

Although there is no doubt that any heterosexual male would find Lizbeth attractive, to some guys - including me - her exotic looks are almost overwhelming. The times that I was around her I felt my face flush and spontaneous activity in my nether regions. I found out the probable source of her exotic looks when in a group of five people (I remember them all) Justin - a guy without a filter between his brain and his mouth - inappropriately asked "Lizbeth, you have a very unusual look; what's your ethnicity?"

I was embarrassed for her, but she might have had this question before so she took it completely in stride and immediately replied "According to the results from major DNA testing companies I have dealt with, roughly averaging out their findings, I'm - in descending order of frequency - 19-26% Dutch, 14-21% German, 10-16% Cherokee, 9-15% Armenian, 8-12% Ashkenazi Jew, 7-10% Vietnamese, 6-9% Moor, and somewhat less than1% Neanderthal. Want to know my bra size, religion, and favorite sexual position too? She said with a sneer" Then she smiled broadly.

"Uh...thanks," idiot Justin said. Then Lizbeth turned to others in our conversation group and ignored the idiot as he slinked away, at least with the sense to turn red.

I have to say that Lizbeth's looks were a blend of all of the best features of all of the ethnicities in her DNA; she would be in the top 1/10th of 1% in looks for every single culture that she represented.

"Uh...hi Lizbeth; remember me, Link Ford," I quietly said as I slowly approached her.

She blushed and wiped away a tear and said "Oh...hi Link; of course I recognize you. What brings you out here on a workday morning?"

"Uh...apparently the same thing that brought you here; I'm having an emotional time and I needed to get my head straight. Sorry to bother you..." I continued as I made a move to leave.

"No Link...don't leave," Lizbeth said, obviously recognizing that I was about to bolt. "They say that misery loves company; have a seat," she continued, patting the bench next to her.

"I don't want to intrude," I replied.

"You're not intruding; maybe talking to someone will help us both out - that is if we can pledge each other to secrecy," she smiled as she wiped away the last visible tear.

"I'm as closed-mouthed as a spy," I chuckled, pretending to zipper my lips.

"Great; me too," she chuckled back.

And so began a series of heart-felt revelations, first hers, then mine, then hers again, then mine again, finally devolving into just conversation when all of the emotional revelations were given.

Her situation was similar to mine, compounded by the fact that she was more than seven months pregnant and now on maternity leave. Unbelievably her husband Derek had been putting her down for months before she got pregnant and even though he initially pushed for the pregnancy now was at best lukewarm about it, and treated her - according to Lizbeth - "like a cow." In several different ways she expressed that she was losing self-confidence and felt like "the cow that Derek treats me like." Derrek, like Mandy, was on a business trip but he was to get back mid Thursday afternoon, Mandy late Friday afternoon.

I assured Lizbeth over and over again that she was one of the three or four most beautiful women I had ever seen in my life; and that she looked great pregnant. I was absolutely being completely truthful with her because aside from her belly and tits being larger she looked just like she did before pregnancy - namely awesome. I think that I finally convinced her that I was being 100% honest when she got a shy grin and blushed.

Lizbeth also buoyed up my spirits telling me time and again that I was as good looking as Mandy (I didn't believe it, but it was nice of her to say it) and that any woman should be proud to have me as a husband (I didn't believe that either, but again was grateful that she made the effort to convince me).

We talked so long that by the time that I looked at my watch we had been chatting for more than two hours and it was now past noon "And time for me to empty by increasingly smaller bladder," Lizbeth giggled. I asked her to lunch, she accepted, and after she made a pit stop at the park pavilion we went to one of the best diners in the city.

Our mutual pep talk - along with much other interesting conversation -continued during lunch. I didn't really want the day to end so after I paid the bill and we walked outside I said "Say - you know what always picks me up? Going to the zoo; want to come along."

Lizbeth smiled but coyly said "I'm not sure that I can walk around the entire zoo; my feet and back will hurt and I'll be preggo tired."

"How about if I rent you a wheelchair?" was my retort.

After a second delay she said "OK - I'm not too proud if you are sure you can wheel around my lard ass."

We went through the entire zoo, talking, laughing, (making several preggo pit stops), eating ice cream cones, and busting completely out of our malaise. By the time that we were ready to leave it was after 5:00 p. m.

"Wow, time flies when you're having fun," I grinned as we turned in the rented wheelchair and walked back to my car. "It's almost time for dinner; I'd love to treat you if you can stand me a while longer."

"Silly...I'd love to," Lizbeth replied as she pushed her pregnancy-enhanced mammaries into my side, "but I need you to take me to my car at the park, then I need to go home and shower and change clothes. Why don't you pick me up at 6:30 at my house, 4 Canyon Court?"

"Sounds like a plan," I replied feeling almost giddy.

*****************

Lizbeth was even more beautiful once she cleaned herself up and got into a flower print dress and wore jewelry; she almost took my breath away.

The restaurant we went to was high end, and had a dance floor. After we were done with a very pleasant and tasty meal - which despite my protests she insisted on paying for - she said "I can't believe how long it's been since I went dancing. I feel good enough for four or five dances if you're not embarrassed to be seen with me.'

I laughed "You are kidding right - I'm already the envy of every man in the joint," as I held my hand out to her and led her onto the dance floor.

Even twenty five pounds heavier than her normal 110 pounds she was an excellent dancer; better than I am, although I'm no slouch. After four fast dances, where she really seemed to be enjoying herself, a slow song started. I took that as my cue to lead her off the dance floor but she resisted and murmured "Just one more, Link."

It was really painful slow dancing with Lizbeth. She pushed her oversized mammaries and belly against me and put her head under my shoulder (she had flats on and since I'm six feet one her head didn't quite reach my shoulder) and I immediately sprouted a boner. The entire dance I was afraid that she'd feel my boner and one of the best days I'd had in more than a year would come crashing to a halt. Either she didn't feel it, or it didn't bother her, because she just smiled as the dance ended, and after she made another pit stop I drove her home.

When we got to Lizbeth's house she said "Why don't you come in for a drink, Link," mildly cackling at her rhyme. "Plus, I have a couple of manly tasks that I need you to perform and another one that I might get the guts to ask you," she smiled.

When we got into her house she asked "You want a drink first, or should I put you to work beforehand?"

"Whatever you want, your wish is my command," was my corny reply.

There were a couple of things that she wanted moved around and in her pregnant condition did not want to take the chance that she might hurt herself or her fetus, and one picture that she had knocked off the wall and needed to be re-framed (which she had the materials for) and re-hung. Those tasks - which she was right at my side for - took about twenty minutes then she asked "What's your poison?"

"Actually, I'd just like seltzer or club soda - same as you," I smiled.

She brought us both seltzers in a glass and sat right next to me on the sofa, in contact although there was plenty of room for her to sit spaced from me. I was getting a little uncomfortable either feeling or staring at her tits while we sat next to each other, afraid that I'd sprout another hard-on and embarrass both of us; when suddenly she put down her drink.

I have no right to ask this - Derek doesn't do it, or if he does it's only with a complaint, or he does a perfunctory job - but can you give me a foot rub. My extra twenty five pounds is really hard on my tootsies.

"No problem," I replied, happy to have any type of body contact with this goddess.

I don't think that I ever pleasured a woman more in my life - without sucking her clit or fucking her pussy that is - than I did by giving pregnant Lizbeth foot massages. Her expressions of contentment were so spontaneous and sincere they couldn't help but buoy my spirts. Plus, I got a good look at her boobs and even a couple of looks up her dress while she was purring with her eyes closed.

After I had massaged each foot about ten minutes she gently pulled her foot away and said "Thank you so much."

"I enjoyed it," I replied. "You were really appreciative and that made me happy."

"I think that something else besides my appreciation made you happy," she giggled. "I can see that you're enamored by my pregnancy-enhanced tits, Link; don't be embarrassed about it. They use to be a C+ but now are a DD; and they leak colostrum almost every day."

"Uh really," I replied, suddenly getting uncomfortable and sure that sweat was starting to form on my brow.

"Tell me Link; do you have a younger sibling?

"Yes; I have a brother about three years younger than I am."

"Did your mother nurse him?"

"Uh...uh...yeah" I stammered/

"That explains why you really are turned-on by my pregnant body..." she started out.

"No...uh...no," I started to stammer in denial, although it was true.

Lizbeth put a finger over my lips and said "Again, don't be embarrassed. I could feel, see, or sense your hard-on several times today. It's normal for an older brother who saw his younger brother being nursed to have at least somewhat of a pregnancy fetish."

"Really?" I genuinely asked, never having heard that before.

"Absolutely; if we have time later I'll show you a discussion about it in a psychology textbook. But now that I've confirmed that you're attracted to my pregnant body, and since you've been so, so nice to me today - nicer than anyone else has ever been, Link - I've gotten up the nerve to ask for yet another favor."

"Uh...what...uh...is...uh...it?" I gulped.

"Well; this is embarrassing; I haven't even seen my crotch - except in the mirror - for quite a while, and don't have the dexterity or guts to shave it. It's like a jungle down there, and I normally keep it either trimmed or bald. Would you shave it for me?"

I was certain that I hadn't heard right, so my initial reaction wasn't shock; I just calmly asked "I didn't catch that. Can you repeat it?"

Lizbeth smiled. "I think you heard it, but it just didn't register. I can't shave my crotch myself since I can't see it, but it's bugging me it's such a jungle. Would you please shave it for me?"

I was dumbstruck. I don't know how long I just stared at her without responding. She later told me that it was a full minute before with an evil grin she said "I need an answer. I'll let you see the colostrum leaking from my DDs if you will."

I apparently at least gave the impression that I said "Yes" because she smiled, took off her top and bra which exposed a pair of truly delectable honkers with a little white liquid shining on one nipple and then said "We have a really big tub in the master bath. Let's do it there."

I was like an automaton as I followed the topless pregnant goddess into her bathroom where she disrobed the rest of the way, got out a razor and shaving cream, put some warm water at the bottom of her large soft bathtub and spread her legs. From in the tub she looked up at me - I'm sure that I was glassy eyed, trying to stare at her tits and crotch at the same time - and said "You don't want to get your clothes wet so you better take them off.

I did take my clothes off, although it was difficult since my cock was as hard as it ever has been in my life. I climbed into the tub, put shaving cream on the top part of her pubic hair, and got to work. I was more careful than I had ever been before in my life. She really did have a significant jungle but with her pleasant coaxing and coaching - and after figuring out where to place my dick so it didn't get in the way - I was actually concentrating on the task at hand and doing a good job.

When I was done her crotch was hairless - but now my stiff dick problem was even worse because her pussy was beautiful, with full lips, a bright pink interior, and causing me to hallucinate that her labia were trying to reach out to grab my cock. My train of thought was broken when she said "Help me out of the tub - I want to look in the mirror and see if you did a good job."

I surprisingly was able to help her up without spontaneously cumming, and led her to a mirror. She smiled as she inspected my handiwork. "Wow - you did a great job Link," she gushed.

Then she turned toward me and almost moved into contact with my stiffy. "Today you've made me feel alive, self-confident, and beautiful again Link; I think that it's only right to show you what a beautiful man that you are and do something about your blue balls." With that she pressed her belly and tits into me, pulled on my neck, and planted a scorching kiss on my lips.

I'm not exactly sure how we made it from the bathroom into her bedroom, but suddenly I was staring at her beautiful pussy, ass, and thighs while she was on her hands and knees on her bed. "Please be gentle with me," she moaned as I ran my fingers over her pussy and asshole. There was no need for much foreplay because her pussy was already soaking wet (and not from the water in the tub) so I grabbed her hips and slowly inserted my impossibly hard cock into her pussy, causing her to emit louder and louder moans as each centimeter of cock invaded her vagina.

The combination of what seemed to be an unusually tight pussy, the baby in her tummy, and her beautiful asshole which seemed to be begging for me to enter it with a finger - which I gladly did - caused me to erupt like a volcano after no more than half-a-dozen strokes in her snug cunt. My ejaculation was way too early, but to my surprise she started cumming after about the third squirt, and her head and arms collapsed onto the bed as her orgasm started to crescendo.

After what was one of the most intense ejaculations in my life subsided we were both hit by a few truly delicious aftershocks, where Lizbeth had minute long contractions during our sexual afterglow, each causing me to moan in pleasure like a wild beast.

After we finally came down from our post-coitus highs, we lay side-by-side smiling at one another. I took this opportunity to play with the large, fun, appendages on her chest, including by sucking on her nipples and getting a little colostrum in the process.

"What does it taste like?" she giggled.

"Why don't I keep some in my mouth and you suck it out?" I playfully replied.