tagChain StoriesF3 Wallpaper

F3 Wallpaper

bypatientlee©

(Author's note: This story is an entry into the third Friendly Anonymous Writing Challenge (FAWC). The true author of this story will be kept secret until Wednesday, November 20, 2013, when the author will be revealed in the comments section following this story. There are no prizes awarded during FAWC; this is simply a friendly competition.)

(Inspiration for this and all FAWC 3 stories was taken from a single picture, which can be found here)

(The tags for this story are FAWC, pregnancy, female masturbation, male masturbation, pregnant, blow job, pregnant sex, pregnant wife, pregnancy fetish, anal play)

* * * *

32 Weeks

"Find your Peaceful Place," the nurse said again in her calm, soothing voice.

My ass was numb from sitting on the floor. I leaned a little bit toward my wife's ear and whispered, "My Peaceful Place is in the recliner, in front of the game."

"Shh. I'm relaxing here. And don't lean forward. You're squishing the baby." She was sitting between my legs, leaning back against me, just like all the other pregnant women in the big circle. The guys across from me looked even more miserable than I felt. On the first night of childbirth class, Deanna staked our claim to one of the coveted spots along the wall. At thirty three, we were one of the older couples in the class, and she let everyone know that we were entitled to the back support provided by the cinder block wall.

"Peaceful Place," Nurse McCarthy repeated, looking pointedly at me. I got the hint, and shut my mouth. The guy across from me smirked at me. He kept reminding everybody that he was nineteen, but he looked like he was in junior high.

This was our first baby, and thank god this was our last childbirth class. I was all for having a Peaceful Place and all, but the thin industrial carpet did nothing to cushion my bony ass from the concrete floor underneath.

"Remember, Coaches. You need to be an active participant through the stages of labor. It's your job to keep Mom in her Peaceful Place." That soothing tone was going to drive me frickin insane. "Labor progresses much quicker if Mom is relaxed."

"Deanna, continue to relax, and tell us all about your Peaceful Place," the nurse told my wife. Deanna took another slow, deep breath before she started to talk, keeping her eyes closed. I felt her body tense up between my legs. We had flown under the radar for the last five weeks, and we thought we had dodged the "sharing" bullet. Shit.

"My Peaceful Place is the resort in Tahiti where we stayed on our trip last February."

I knew she wouldn't get away with that.

"That sounds very peaceful, Deanna. Tell us about it. What color is the water in your Peaceful Place? Are you on the beach or floating in the pool? Breathe... In... And out... In... and out..." The teenager across from me snorted out loud, and the rest of the guys snickered a little.

"Oh, grow up," snapped the teenager's young baby mama. The rest of the moms started shushing their men too, and for a second, I thought Deanna was off the hook.

"Deanna. Describe it for us. Share the peace you find in this place."

Not off the hook. Shit.

She tensed up again and said quickly, "We stayed in one of those little huts over the water. It was green and clear and beautiful. I spent hours just floating on the water while Derek read his book and drank beer."

"There you go," the nurse crooned. "Focus on the peaceful feeling of floating on the water. Keep breathing. Your Peaceful Place will be very helpful during a long labor. Relaxing your whole body will allow your cervix to open right up and let your baby out."

If I never heard the word "cervix" again, it would be too soon.

The nurse finally moved on to someone else, and once again, I whispered into Deanna's ear, "How come you didn't mention the part about makin' the baby? That's the best part. You remember. You watched the fish swim by while my sperm swam inside you." I felt her giggle, and then relax, and I rubbed my hands over her swollen belly. After a moment, I was rewarded with a swift kick to my left hand from our little munchkin.

Another of Nurse McCarthy's victims was describing an idyllic little spot in the forest where all you could hear was the tweeting of little birdies and the rustling of the foliage. A glance at the other fathers told me that most of them were thinking what I was thinking—that would indeed be a Peaceful Place, if you were in a tree stand holding a shotgun.

My mind started to wander, thinking about the last buck I had gotten, three years ago. It was an eight-pointer with a twenty inch spread. Not the biggest I've ever bagged. I got a ten pointer once when I was a teenager. His head was hanging on the wall in my father's basement.

"... cervix continues to dilate." Crap. There was that word again. I tried harder to pay attention.

Nurse McCarthy started again. "As we saw last week, transition is the most painful stage of labor, but the good news is that it is the shortest."

I felt Deanna suck in a deep breath. We had talked about how she was planning to manage the pain. The thought of a needle in her back made her want to puke, so an epidural was out. I had a feeling that she'd change her mind when that "transition" hit, but I kept my mouth shut. The can of pregnant-lady whoop ass was as big as her belly these days. I didn't need her opening it on me.

Both of our mothers were pressuring her to "say no to drugs". Her mother had natural childbirth for both of her kids, and she was putting a little extra pressure on Deanna. My mother had C-sections because both of her kids were breech, so she felt it was important that her grandchild be born the natural way to make up for it. I didn't care whether she had an epidural or not, as long as my son or daughter came out OK without killing her. And if her friend at work bragged one more time about being in labor for a day and a half with no meds, I swear, I was going to...

"Your Peaceful Place will keep you relaxed and help you continue to dilate through the transition stage. You don't want to panic, that just makes it harder," Nurse explained.

"Coaches, this is where your Peaceful Place Wallpaper homework assignment comes in. Remember last week, I told the coaches that it was their job to find a photograph that would put Mom in her Peaceful Place and set that as the wallpaper on both of your cellphones. Let's see those cell phones now."

Shit. I didn't do that. Thank god I took some of the pictures of that trip on my phone. I found the one of Deanna swimming near the lounge hut, and set my wallpaper before Nurse caught me. There was some guy in the picture, but I knew that Deanna's Peaceful Place was in the pale green water. I could always crop the guy out tonight when we got home.

"Your contractions are coming less than a minute apart. You feel like you're starting to panic. Like you're not getting a break before the next contraction starts. You might be starting to feel like you need some pain relief. That's OK. It's too late for an epidural, but don't forget the other options we discussed.

"Coaches, keep an eye on Mom. Remind her to breathe deeply. Reassure her. She'll probably tell you that she can't do it. Remind her that she can." Her voice was grating on my last nerve, like an elementary school violin player.

"And now it's time for the Peaceful Place Wallpaper. Give Mom your phone. Now... Mom, look at your Peaceful Place. Are you there? Breathe in... and out... In... Out..."

* * * *

If you've lived with a pregnant woman, you already know this, but let me tell you. Pregnant women are horny creatures. I mean, I'm not an expert, and I only have this one experience to draw from, but my wife has been horny for months now. I'm not complaining or anything, but I'm not eighteen anymore. Some nights I'm just too fuckin' tired to have sex.

Deanna slept in the car on the way home from that last class, so she was awake and refreshed when we got home. While she ate her required two scoops of mint chocolate chip, I hurried to get ready for bed before she finished.

I almost made it.

Just as I relaxed and closed my eyes, Deanna slipped into bed next to me. Not only was she horny, she wanted to talk.

"Derek, do you really think it makes a difference to the baby if I have the epidural. It grosses me out, but I can't wrap my head around this amount of pain. I mean, how bad could it really be? If I just keep in mind that the pain is temporary and that it's actually helping the baby to be born, I'll be able to do it, right?"

"And your mother is just driving me crazy with all of her crunchy-granola ideas about breastfeeding and organic baby food. I know she thinks I have to deliver without drugs. Even my own mother keeps telling me about all these people that she knows that had back problems for weeks after the epidural. She watches way too many of those baby shows. I don't know what to do."

I fought to stay awake while she rambled.

"I wish I knew, Babe. I've never given birth before." I didn't add that she has no tolerance for pain, so I thought it be a freakin' miracle if she was able to push this kid out without some kind of pain meds.

She switched gears to horny, pregnant-lady mode. She propped herself up with her mountain of pillows, facing me. She reached under my t-shirt and rubbed my nipple for a moment. Her fingers started to trail south, tickling her way down.

"Babe, I'm sorry. I have to get up early in the morning, and I'm exhausted. Can we finish this tomorrow?"

She glared at me for a moment before she spoke. "Fine," she said as she tried to roll away from me, obviously pissed.

"I have to get up in the morning. You can sleep in. I'm sorry." Not the right thing to say, but I could hardly form words, I was so tired.

"I have a meeting online at eight. Just because I work from home doesn't mean I sleep all day, you know."

She was silent for a moment before she tried another tactic.

"How 'bout I give you a blow job?"

Oh my god. She was desperate. I figured my best option would be to say yes. I'd get off with no effort on my part, and she wouldn't be able to talk with her mouth full of cock. Win-win.

I pulled off my boxers, kicking them to the floor. As I rolled onto my side, my soft cock flopped down toward the bed.

"Got your work cut out for you, Babe. I'm not even hard."

"Mmm... I love it when you get hard in my mouth. I don't get that too often." She struggled to turn onto her side.

One thing I had recently learned about the pregnant body was that the baby bump was pretty solid, and it didn't have much give to it. I had always assumed that pregnant women moved awkwardly just because their bellies were heavy. Deanna had finally gotten me to understand by demonstrating with a basketball under my shirt.

"Now try sitting up," she instructed, as she held the basketball tightly against my stomach. I flopped like a fish. "See how the ball doesn't give? It doesn't redistribute like fat does? It doesn't bend with you? It just pushes into your stomach."

I had nodded. At least I could still move my head. "Now imagine the ball bigger and on the inside and with arms and legs pushing on your internal organs. Do you get it?" I just about did.

I helped her turn around so that her head was toward the foot of the bed, and she was on her side in line with my cock. This pseudo-sixty-nine position seemed to work well for both of us.

"I don't expect any reciprocation from you tonight, you know." She had her pajamas on, so I hadn't even considered giving her any oral action. I nudged her lips with my cock, hoping it would make her stop talking.

She stuck out her long tongue, and licked the tip of my cock. Her tongue was warm and wet, and it got my attention. She closed her mouth over the head and licked at the slit, trying to coax some pre-cum out of the tip. I took a deep breath, feeling a stab of pleasure shoot from the tip of my cock, down deep into my balls as I began to stiffen.

My wife could give a blow job. That was for sure. She took me in, all the way to the root of my cock and began to lick from the base to the tip. Deanna gave a throaty chuckle as I hardened fully, filling her mouth. Up and down, over and over. She moved her head toward my pelvis and began fucking me with her mouth. My cock slid in and out over her tongue as she started to swirl it, just under the head. She traced circle after circle right on my sweet spot, her rough taste buds rubbing heat into my privates.

I was so tired, but my cock was wide awake. I tried to unbutton her pajama top, but didn't have the coordination. "Take your shirt off," I mumbled, unable to say much more through my haze of fatigue and lust. She worked the buttons with her left hand as she cupped my balls with her right. Once her top was open, I put my hand on her breast, lightly brushing the nipple. First one, then the other. She moaned, but kept licking my cock as she sucked.

The hand on my balls inched back, her long fingers reaching between my legs to the spot between my balls and my asshole. I felt another surge of intense pleasure shoot through my balls, up to the head of my cock. I tried to spread my legs a little bit to accommodate her hand.

She rubbed and tickled for a moment, and then pulled her hand out. She took my cock out of her mouth long enough to tell me how swollen I felt against her tongue before slipping her middle finger into her mouth. I knew where she was planning to put that finger.

Again she put her hand between my thighs as she resumed the suction on my rod. I tried to relax and concentrate on what her mouth was doing. I felt her finger slide back to my anus, and she applied pressure before I could decide to stop her. As the finger slipped inside, I took a deep breath and tried not to tighten up. I knew that once her finger was all the way in, I would come like mad, but I always felt some initial revulsion as her finger snaked into my rectum.

Her tongue licked and swirled, faster and harder than before, almost distracting me from the clinical feeling of her long finger. Her in-and-out technique was certainly different from my doctor's prostate exam, but the stretching of my anus and the intrusion of her finger gave me a mixed rush of thrill and embarrassment.

She paused for a moment, sucking very gently on the head of my cock, leaving me trembling a little bit with anticipation. All at once, she slammed my cock to the very back of her mouth and pressed that long finger, just in the right spot. Her tongued lapped in circles as her finger traced circles inside of my rectum, pressing against my prostate.

I didn't even warn her. My orgasm exploded into her throat, and she swallowed over and over, getting every drop of my cum. She sucked me until my balls were empty, and I collapsed back onto the bed causing her finger to fall out of my ass. My pelvis twitched when her fingertip passed through my anus. I started to fall asleep even before she pulled away from me, and I was too far gone to realize that she was having trouble getting up.

The last thing I heard before I succumbed to slumber was her quiet plea.

"A little help here?"

33 Weeks

"What's this?" Deanna asked when I slid the gift card across the table. We were waiting for the cheesecake to arrive. Our favorite restaurant was a little Italian place on Long Drive. It was on the expensive side, so we didn't go very often.

"You have an appointment tomorrow morning for a massage. You know, those special ones for pregnant women."

"Really? Why? It's not my birthday or anything." She was delighted. I knew she would be.

"I know you're getting uncomfortable. It's not fair that you get all the back pain and stuff, so I thought this might help."

She squealed a little bit, and I knew I had hit the mark. It made me happy to see her so excited. A couple's massage used to be one of our hot dates when we first got married. As much as I wanted to have my own massage, I wanted her to understand that this was just for her—my love, the mother of my child.

"Are you coming too?"

"Nope. I'll drop you off and go get myself a haircut. It's just for you because I love you."

"You're the best," she said, a little teary. I'd be willing to bet that she hadn't cried so much in her whole life as she had since she got pregnant.

"So, what are you thinking now? Boy or girl?" I started the same conversation we'd been having for months.

"I'm feeling like it's a girl these days. I keep dreaming about pink things. Last night I dreamt that I was eating pink cupcakes. They were delicious," she added. "What about you?"

"I can't get a feeling either way. Maybe we should just let them tell us at the ultrasound."

"No. We decided we wouldn't find out. It was your idea, for crying out loud!"

"OK, OK. You're right. It was my idea," I agreed. "I'm just so curious. I wanna know, but I can wait, I guess."

"Good," she said, as our cheesecake arrived. She had won this battle.

* * * *

We had just walked through the door when my mother called. This was her first grandchild, and her calls were coming almost daily as Deanna's due date approached. As I picked up the phone, Deanna shot me The Look.

"Hi, Mom."

"I just called to tell you that I bought you a breast pump. The deluxe model, so don't go putting that on your baby registry."

"What the hell do I need a breast pump for? I don't even have breasts." Deanna's eyes widened and immediately narrowed to slits. I just shook my head.

"For Deanna," my mother went on, as if she thought I was serious. "She can pump mother's milk to leave for the baby when I babysit. You know, so the baby doesn't have to have any formula."

"Mom, Deanna isn't even sure that she wants to breastfeed."

That was a lie. Deanna was dead-set against it, and the toe she tapped on the floor underscored her feelings.

"Derek." Mom had that tone again. "This is your baby too. You have to convince her that breast milk is what's best for your baby."

"Yeah. I know. I'll talk to her," I said, but quickly mouthed, "No I won't." I motioned for Deanna to get me off the phone. She walked out of the room, leaving me fend for myself.

"Look, Mom. I gotta go."

"Talk to her, Sweetie. You're gonna be such a good father," she crooned.

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, Sweetie."

I hung up and took out the garbage, if only to delay the fight with Deanna.

* * * *

I'm a Mama's Boy. I tried to explain this to Deanna before we got engaged, but I guess she didn't believe me. My mother was still cooking my meals and washing my clothes the day before our wedding.

Two weeks after our honeymoon, Deanna and Mom had their first big blow-out.

"So Deanna, what would you like to bring for Thanksgiving? Do you have a specialty?"

I got my first-ever "Look" from Deanna.

"It's only April seventeenth," Deanna said to my mother, frowning a little bit.

"It's better to plan early, don't you think?" my mother said, nodding as if that would convince her.

"I'll think about it and let you know," Deanna said. She didn't sound as annoyed as I knew she felt.

"When?"

"When what?"

"When will you let me know, Dear?"

I knew I'd pay for it later, but I didn't know what else to do.

I went to the bathroom.

* * * *

I was right. Deanna was pissed. She unleashed her fury with a slam of the car door.

"Why the hell would she just assume that we're going there for Thanksgiving? My mother makes Thanksgiving dinner too. Does your mother just think I'm writing off my family now that I'm married to her son?"

"Babe, I don't know what she's thinking. I tried to tell you that I'm a mama's boy."

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