I never had any obsessions in life until I turned thirty three. Sure I played too many video games when I was a pre-teen; sure I was preoccupied with football, and not just during football season, when in High School; sure I partied too much in college. But I never felt that I wasn't in control.
At thirty three I was basically happily married to Marie, childless, and had a mostly normal between middle class and upper middle class life in an exurb of a big city, with a manageable mortgage on our two story four bedroom house, a decent job, and mostly good friends and relatives. Marie and I were compatible in many ways; if I had a "type" she was it. I'm six foot three inches tall, 215 pounds; she's five ten, 150, with big boobs. I always liked tall, substantial (but not fat) big-boobed women.
For some reason our house was a gathering place for friends and relatives, maybe because it's on a nice lot, far enough from the city to be quiet (and affordable) but not so far that there is any trouble getting there, especially since it's near an Interstate highway. There are only two of the frequent visitors that I need to describe - Gail and Winston.
Even though Marie is only four years older than Gail, supposedly Gail is her niece. Marie does have two living older siblings, and a much older brother who died in the armed forces, who supposedly was Gail's father. No one ever specifically talks about this situation, but since Gail doesn't look much like Marie or her siblings, and I've never met Gail's mother, maybe she's adopted. Anyway, Gail is almost exactly a foot shorter and 100 pounds lighter than I am, obviously not "my type."
Gail is definitely not beautiful; however, she is the epitome of "cute." I guess maybe the way to describe it is a da Vinci painting is beautiful and something to be admired, while a puppy is cute and something to be cuddled; given that analogy Gail is the very definition of cute. She has tiny tits, a decent sized ass, nice thighs, and shiny brunette hair, but she isn't going to turn all heads with her figure.
I have always gotten along well with Gail in the six or seven years that I've known her; she is fun to tease, and gives as good as she gets, she can yuk it up with the guys as well as any woman can, yet she is clearly feminine, with a good sense of humor. She's very athletic, can beat me in tennis, and loves to play touch football and show up all of the teenagers in our family and in our group of friends.
Winston is the guy that Gail is married to. I've never liked Winston. The only thing he has going for him, as far as I'm concerned, is that he's good looking. I think that he's a pompous humorless ass, and for the life of me I don't know what Gail sees in him.
Enough background - now to my fixation.
**************
Surprising as it may seem, at thirty three I had never had close regular contact with a pregnant woman. I never even realized that until one night when during a gathering at our house Gail refused all alcohol gleefully announcing "I'm PG." We all gave our congratulations, enthusiastically to Gail, insincerely to Winston.
While Gail was effervescent, Winston seemed almost glum. "Maybe it was an accident and he isn't into it yet," I said to myself - but since I didn't really give a shit about Winston I didn't think too much more about it then.
We saw Gail at least every fortnight, and the changes in her were easily visible and quite dramatic. Once she started "showing," and her boobs started enlarging, she always seemed to have a warm glow or aura about her. She cautiously reveled in the fact that she never got morning sickness and felt as good as she ever had - although she got tired much more easily. "When it hits 10:00 p. m. now I usually pass out and don't stir until seven the next morning," I heard her say on more than one occasion.
It was about her fourth month of pregnancy that I started to look at Gail differently. I noticed a tingling in my nether regions when around her, and found myself looking at her more and more - to the extent that I was probably staring.
About Gail's fifth month of pregnancy I was no longer staring at her - I was ogling her; and I was thinking about her several times a day even at work, and dreaming about her at night. My dreams weren't about simply interacting with her - they were about fucking her.
Never having had a fixation before, and finding it more and more difficult to control myself around Gail, and having physical manifestations in the form of sweating, stuttering, and coughing, I did something that I had never done before. I went to see a psychologist.
I have a very good health plan through my work, and my company even has a respected psychologist on retainer, so I went to see Dr. Connie Albright. After five minutes of chit-chat, Connie got right to the point.
"So what can I help you with Blake?" she asked, removing her frameless glasses, crossing her legs, and staring at me.
"I'm what I have thought, and hope, is happily married. However, my wife's niece, who's only five years younger than I am, and who I've known for six or seven years, I suddenly have become uncontrollably attracted to," I semi-stammered, trying to avoid eye contact.
"Has there been any recent change in her or you or your circumstances that brought that about?"
""Uh...well, she's pregnant; between five and six months now I believe, and that seems to be what has changed the way I look at her."
"Have you ever had close contact with a pregnant woman before?"
"No...no...not that I recall," I hesitantly replied after thinking about it.
"Do you have younger siblings?"
"Uh...yes, a brother about three years younger than I am."
"Did your mother breastfeed him?"
I found this line of questioning bizarre, and was about to object but then thought better of it. "Yes, she did."
"Then you have a pregnancy fetish or obsession. It is extremely common - in fact more common than not - for a male who was 3-6 years old when his mother was nursing a younger sibling - especially a brother - to have a heightened desire around a pregnant woman, especially if the woman is someone who you know and like," she said as matter-of-factly as possible while putting on her glasses and re-crossing her legs.
"What?" was my intelligent reply.
Dr. Albright went on to report the results of three different studies, only one of which did she need to look at a binder on a shelf in her office to provide details about, proving the very thing that she told me.
I was glad that I wasn't a freak, but knowing that I wasn't abnormal didn't solve my problem. "So...well...what do I do about it?" I gulped.
"Well like any infatuation, there are things that you can do to that can help. Not all of them will be right for your situation, but I can give you some things to do and avoid," she continued.
