I'm Tricia Martin. At the critical point in this story I was twenty eight years old.
I always considered myself an average girl/woman in the looks department. I made up for my average looks by excelling in athletics, especially track and field, and getting good grades though they may have been due more to hard work than innate intelligence. I always tried to be kind to everyone, so I got asked out on dates a considerable amount, especially considering my average looks. From the time that I was eighteen until I got married to Brian Martin when I was twenty four, I had my share of sex.
Like most people, I did really enjoy sex – however, even when married I have to say that I never had a completely toe-curling, banshee screaming, comatose-inducing, session; just basically rewarding oral and intercourse. I had what I considered to be an average libido, and Brian did too; we were very compatible in that regard, and in most other ways.
I actually think that I would have been considered much sexier than average except for three things; I had a significant – not puke-inducing, but hard to cover up with makeup – case of acne; I had small boobs; and I had a flat ass. Most guys that I knew prized a nice complexion, at least medium sized tits, and a bubble butt. I did have really nice legs, due in part to my athletic achievements, and tried to emphasize them in my dress. I also always tried to have a smile on my face to expose my perfectly straight and pearly white teeth to distract from my acne.
Starting right after college, Brian and I both had decent jobs and made more than decent money. While we were not tightwads, and did enjoy life, we were careful to put a significant amount of our earnings away to buy a house when we ultimately had kids. I worked for a big company that made tons of money, and had an excellent health and family leave plan, which is one of the reasons I accepted the job offer there when I had others to choose from that paid more money.
After about three and one-half years of marriage Brian and I decided that it was time to start a family. We were happy with the upscale garden apartment complex that we lived in, and felt no rush to get out and into a house before the baby was born. Our plan was to find a suitable house and move when our first child was maybe ten to fourteen months old. I would get four months with pay for pregnancy and post-pregnancy leave, and could take three more months without pay but without jeopardizing my chance for advancement if I so chose.
We had nice neighbors in our garden apartment complex; most were married couples with one or two kids, or plans to have them soon. Our next door neighbors were a very good-looking couple named Kurt and Brittany Swanson. They were about our only friends that didn't seem to be on track to have kids, at least not in the near future, but that was not an impediment to us, or our other friendly neighbors, getting along with them. Kurt ran a successful on-line business from his apartment, and Brittany was a buyer for a big department store and travelled quite a bit.
Kurt and I got along particularly well because of our athletic backgrounds. He threw the javelin in college, and was even the alternate on the 2012 U S Olympic team. He also ran the 400 meter event in college, an unusual combination. I too ran the 400 and was conference champion in the long jump in college. Once in a while we went running together. Though we were friendly, our relationship was strictly platonic and I never even imagined it otherwise especially since Brittany had a perfect complexion, beautiful face, likely a D cup rack, and a truly shapely ass, and Kurt was twice as good looking as any guy I had ever dated.
I had my IUD removed a few months before my twenty eighth birthday and got pregnant soon thereafter. Some strange things happened when I did; well maybe they're not all that strange in moderation, but how dramatic they were certainly was strange. By the time that I was just short of seven months pregnant:
-My acne cleared up completely. I wasn't even left with a pock-marked face. The few blemishes remaining were easily covered up with makeup.
-My boobs got a full two cup sizes bigger, and my nipples got proportionally even larger.
-My ass filled out. While not truly a bubble butt, it was much rounder and more pronounced than it ever had been before.
-My libido increased considerably, so that I thought about sex at least three times as much as I ever had before.
-My energy level decreased significantly. When I exercised – which I continued to do, but only exercises approved by my OB/GYN – I felt good while doing so, but afterward got so tired I often drifted off immediately after a shower, and napped for at least an hour.
-Of course my belly also got bigger, although the doctor said that I was gaining just the right amount of weight, so that the baby would be healthy, but so that I would not have too much difficulty getting back in shape once he or she was born.
The reaction of males in all walks of life to my enlarged state was sometimes amusing, sometimes off-putting, sometimes suggestive, and oftentimes just plain puzzling. There were essentially zero guys who had no reaction at all, however.
Brian's and Kurt's reactions were particularly puzzling. Brian was very tender, and treated me kind of like a china doll, but seemed to have a decreased interest in sex, which oftentimes left me wanting. Kurt was wide-eyed whenever I saw him, and without fail would ask me to exercise at the same time that he did, promising to tone his workout down to accommodate my condition. Kurt also – normally asking permission first – loved to rub my belly; Brian seemed almost afraid to touch it and did so only when I asked him to.
I started pregnancy leave as soon as I hit what my OB/GYN predicted was the start of my seventh month. I busied myself around the apartment and shopping getting everything ready for the little bambino, but not being at work gave me more time to think than was healthy for me. What I thought about was sex, and for almost the first time in my life I wasn't getting enough to match my libido. I was embarrassed at how preoccupied I was with sex, and that I needed daily masturbation sessions.
Shortly after I took my leave from work after I had already masturbated and was still fixated on sex, there was a knock at the door. It was Kurt, smiling and dressed in jogging shorts, a tank top, and running shoes. "Hey sexy preggo," he started out the conversation – the first time that he had ever referred to me as "sexy" in the two years that I had known him – "join me for a jog. Then we'll get our suits on and swim a few laps at the pool; it's going to be a warm, sunny day."
"I'll so slow you down," I chided him, "and I'd gross everyone out with my big-bellied body in a swim suit," I chuckled.
"I've got a minor twist in my ankle so our speeds will be the same, and I assure you that no one with a significant amount of testosterone will find you anything but sexy," he replied with a big grin.
Having a hunk like Kurt say that to me caused a series of twitches in my crotch.
"OK – if you'll move the crib I bought yesterday out of my car and put it in the second bedroom, I'll change and join you," I responded.
"Where are your car keys?" he asked. When I handed them to him he rubbed my belly – without asking permission this time but with an even bigger grin – and said "don't be long."
By the time that I changed into my exercise duds and packed my preggo bathing suit and a change of clothes in a bag, Kurt not only had the crib out of the car, but set up in the second bedroom and the box that it came in in the complex recycling bin.
