Anything You Need

The next day came with another request of a favor from Heather. She had another OB-GYN appointment upcoming and was now having a hell of a time getting around her belly to shave her crotch. The idea of being examined sporting a hairy pussy embarrassed her. So, she required some help. We decided the shower was the place to do it. She'd stand, I'd kneel in front of her to get the job done. She hadn't developed a ton of hair down there: it was little more than stubble. A safety razor and some shaving cream easily got the job done.

Being in such close proximity to the pussy I so lusted after gave me all sorts of dirty ideas. As I finished shaving her, I decided to go with one of these ideas. I abruptly put my mouth on her pussy, tongue thoroughly exploring her slit. Once I found her clit I stayed there, sucking and tonguing to a cacophony of surprised-sounding moans from Heather. She leaned against the wall of the shower as I went, one hand grasping a tit and the other rubbing her belly right near the navel. I had both my hands on her bubble of an ass, pulling her crotch tightly to my face. It only took a minute or so for me to bring her to orgasm. I couldn't get enough of the feeling of her cumming around my mouth. Her convulsions reverberated through my head, pussy tightening directly onto my tongue. It was, yet again, glorious.

I was hooked on pregnant pussy. There was no denying that. It was all still going in the one direction between us, but I just could not get enough of sexually servicing Heather. Though, she was performing a service for me just by letting me get into that pussy of hers on a daily basis. I don't know what I would have done without it at this point. One of the questions hanging in the air, then, was for whom we were doing all this. Was I still helping a preggo work out her sexual frustration? Was the preggo catering to a burgeoning lesbian? What needs were there in this relationship, and who was doing what to meet them? I was undeniably doing most of the manual labor, but Heather was undeniably generous with her beautifully swelling body.

When she was about 31 weeks along, Heather went for it and finally got me off. I was going down on her and she suggested I swing my legs to get them around her head. It didn't immediately occur to me what she was intending, but it certainly didn't occur to me not to give her exactly what she wanted. My head still at her crotch and legs now spread around her face, Heather pulled my pussy juice-soaked underwear off me. I was surprised, barely managing to continue sucking her clit. And just as abruptly as she'd removed my panties, Heather's mouth was over my cunt.

Her methods were rough but she was clearly enthusiastic, truly seeming to be caught up in the horny moment. It took her a while to settle on the clitoral stimulation that would most easily get me off: she explored my labia and vaginal opening extensively before getting there. She was smart enough to use the volume of my moans as an indicator of pleasure, though, so once she happened upon my clit she pretty much stayed there. I was distracted by my own pleasure, barely managing to do much beyond keeping my tongue pressed against her clit. This did prove enough to bring her to orgasm eventually. Before I finished her she got me off twice, less by skillful technique than by the extreme arousal triggered by the mere fact of being eaten out by a pregnant lady. A lady had never before performed cunnilingus on me; I very much hoped this first time wouldn't be the last.

Things progressed swimmingly from there, Heather apparently having enjoyed returning the sexual favor. We basically lived with each other's cunts in our mouths. Finger-fucking while eating out was a regular part of the festivities, too. Sixty-nining was the most efficient way to both get off. It wasn't that we tended to be in a rush or anything, but pleasing and being pleased all at once was a great deal of fun. Heather usually liked to be on top in this arrangement, able to control how much pressure she put on her increasingly hanging belly.

She'd grown so much in the time that had passed. By 37 weeks into the pregnancy, the word "gravid" barely did her justice. Her belly had "dropped" as they say, the baby getting into a lower position in anticipation of delivery. The bump mostly eclipsed her pubic region, now requiring one of us to lift it up and out of the way if we wanted decent crotch access. I was more than up to overcoming this particular complication, never complaining about an opportunity to get up close and personal with Heather's big beautiful belly.

At 39 weeks along, Heather surprised me by introducing a new element to our fucking. When I entered the bedroom following a shower, she met me fully nude and wearing a thick, realistic, 8-inch strap-on dildo. The sight of her nearly made me swoon. I hadn't gone full-on lesbian or anything; I remained very much into cock. The image of my new preggo infatuation sporting my historically favored genitalia is one that won't soon leave my masturbatory repertoire.

Heather had me get on my bed and position myself on all fours, pussy close to the edge for easy access. She got behind me and rubbed my pussy for a moment to ensure I was wet and ready for entry. Oh boy, was I! Before she could comfortably get the dildo in me, she had to lift her drooping bump and place it atop my ass cheeks. I nearly swooned once more over the divine heaviness as it rested on me. She continued, working the tip of the hefty sex toy into my slit then proceeding to give me the entirety of the shaft. I moaned deeply, almost comically protractedly; we both chuckled at my exaggerated noise.

She fucked me slowly, deliberately. I felt my pussy lips stretch pleasurably with the substantial girth of the dildo, the top of it rubbing my clitoral region and bringing me alarmingly close to cumming very prematurely. With every thrust into me I grunted; with every withdrawal out of me I moaned. Between her regular humping and my vocal and vaginal noises, we made a delightfully filthy sort of music together. My hips even started swaying a bit to the rhythm without my consciously intending they do so.

Every aspect of getting fucked by the pregnant Heather was incredible. I loved the feel of her weighty belly rocking back and forth atop my ass cheeks as she thrusted. I loved the sound of her heavy breathing as she wore out her easily-exhausted, gestating self. Most of all, I really loved the perverse fact that a preggo with a big fake cock was screwing me from behind. That majorly did it for me. We used the strap-on plenty over the remaining days prior to the birth; I definitely think Heather got her money's worth.

At just under 41 weeks along, Heather went into labor. Her broken water was the last of the many liquid messes I cleaned up during her pregnancy. She'd asked me months prior if I'd be her "comfort person" during the delivery: she wasn't particularly close to any female family members and I was her closest friend. The soon-to-be fathers would be in the room, too, but less for her benefit than their own edification.

This experience was a slightly odd coda to all the sexual fun we'd been having lately. I was there for Heather as a supportive friend, sure, but I was also at some level her lover. So, her exposed-for-everyone-in-the-room-to-see crotch meant slightly more to me than just the place the baby was imminently going to emerge from. I couldn't keep my eyes off it, even in this medical context. Her pussy looked great to me (I had very recently shaved it!) even as it stretched and bled in active childbirth. There were, apparently, no limits to my depravity.

Even after the baby was delivered to its rightful parents, the whole pregnancy thing wasn't really resolved for me. Had my lusty feelings for Heather just been a byproduct of pregnancy, or had I just happened to fall for a lady while she happened to be expecting? Would our romantic exploits continue now that she was no longer pregnant? Did she still need anything from me? And, most importantly: how long before Heather could act as a surrogate again?