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"You're just going back to America and you're going to Princeton and you're never going to see that woman ever again."
"YOU CAN'T CONTROL ME ANYMORE!" I suddenly howled at her, stupidly, uselessly. "IT'S MY LIFE!"
"DON'T. NOT ANOTHER FUCKING. WORD." Mother hissed. "You will never tell a soul about this," she said, her voice barely a whisper now. "Never, do you understand? No one can ever know. Not even your father."
She gave me an awful, unhinged look then, even worse than when she was on the floor and broken with the prospect of losing our family fortune. Mother was trying to deny it, but she knew the truth, deep down. I'd hurt her, betrayed her to the core. She left and slammed the door behind her, leaving me to collapse on my bed, my heart racing, blood rushing to my head, tears heavy in my eyes.
We had each other at an impasse, a bitter stalemate. My parents could recover from a financial crisis, battered and wounded, but they'd rise again. A scandal like this, though? Nothing was more important to Mother than her reputation. It was like a nuclear standoff. I could burn everything down, tell the world, and destroy her. She could cut me off, disown, and destroy me. But Mother had more to lose. I had to hope that this would remain a deep, dark family secret, and just like her paranoid delusions about my father, stay in her poisoned mind. I'd never admitted to anything. In a way, it was a victory over her that she could never take away.
Me, though? I had my life to live, and I wasn't going to live it in fear of her.
I didn't see my mother again before we left -- she was probably medicating herself in her bedroom with Valium and French red and who knew what else. I decided not to tell Maria what'd happened. She didn't need to know or freak out about it in her condition.
I felt terrible going to my dad about my allowance for the trip with everything that was going on, but this wasn't going to work without money. The evening before we left, he was so distracted, so distraught about what was happening that he just opened the safe in his study and started counting out hundreds. Two, five, seven, nine, over ten thousand dollars in cash that he packed into an envelope and gave to me.
"That's for the trip and to settle into Princeton," he sighed, looking worn down, a beaten man on the edge. "Don't tell your mom I gave you this much."
"Thanks, Dad," I forced a smile, my heart glowing with his generosity, even though it might have been borne of sympathy and desperation -- or he was just buying my affection and loyalty over Mother. "Are you guys going to be okay?"
"I'll manage, Champ," he smiled sadly, clapping my shoulder. "I think your mother and I are turning a corner. It's been very difficult for all of us, but there's a good chance I'll land this new Goldman gig in Beijing. Fingers crossed and we'll get back to where we were in a few years. Goodbye retirement!" he laughed bitterly. "It'll be tough, but we'll be alright. And hey, maybe we can come and visit you next year in Princeton. Your mom and I haven't been back in forever."
I gave my dad a big, loving hug. "Thanks Dad."
"Have fun in Hong Kong," he laughed. "Enjoy the handover."
****
The fasten seatbelt sign dinged as the Thai Airways 737 shuddered from sudden turbulence. Maria was sitting next to me as I held her hand, leaning over to softly kiss her knuckles. She was wearing a light aqua empire waist maternity dress that went down just past her knees, quietly kicking her low-top Converse sneakers. Maria had her long, silky black hair pulled up into a ponytail, smiling at my lovingly as she stroked the taut, big globe of her protruding belly, secured with the buckle across her hips and under its swell. She looked radiant and excited, if a little shy at all the luxury and attention we were receiving in the Business class cabin.
Sitting in 7A and B, the atmosphere was a tranquil, gentle retreat from the desperate clamor of Bangkok's Don Mueang International Airport. The mood was tense and security was tightened, but nothing had fallen apart yet. Still, I felt immediate relief once I had her in my arms and we took off, leaving the seething, powder-keg streets of Bangkok behind. The 2-2 configuration seats were spacious and totally unlike the dense, uncomfortable cram of Economy sardine rows stretching behind the cabin's compartmentalizing curtain. Each seat was like a plush throne, wrapped in the deep blue and purple patterned heritage of Thai Airways. Maria had cooed over the amenities, with the generous legroom, fold-out table, and reclining footrest. She was startled when the stewardesses fawned over her with pillows, hot scented towels, snacks, and pre-flight drinks. They all paid her special attention in her deeply gravid state, constantly asking how she was with their Cheshire Thai smiles if she needed anything. While luxury travel was the mundane standard for me, my Filipina lover was starstruck by a taste of Star Alliance opulence. She looked bewildered when we were given a 4-course dinner menu, from canapés to Chilean sea bass to compote.
The cabin's hushed tones allowed for quiet conversation, slowly flowing into the beginning of our multi-course meal. The clink of glassware and the subtle shifting of passengers in their spacious seats soon accompanied the ever-present hum of the engines. Maria was both delighted and fixated by the char-grilled fillet mignon that arrived on a real plate and tablecloth in front of her, served with a rich truffle-infused demi-glace, garlic mashed potatoes, grilled asparagus spears, and cherry tomatoes on the vine. She poked at it and cut off a slice to chew appreciatively.
"M-mm! Not bad," she said with a cheek still full of half-masticated beef. "Need more flavor but really juicy! How they fit kitchen on the plane?"
"Dunno," I grinned, enjoying mine. "Can't believe it's airplane food, right?"
"If I cook it, I use more pepper and garlic," she declared with certainty, wagging her fork.
"Maybe you should start your own restaurant or something," I offered. "Show these guys how it's done."
Maria chatted excitedly through our meal about her homeland and her village while an attentive stewardess collected our used tableware. Another delivered a rich, creamy slice of crème caramel, topping it with fresh strawberries and whipped cream for us. We fed each other bites, so stupidly, wonderfully in love. It was this moment of calm after all the stress of the past few months. We were finally safe. We had money. We had each other and our children. I leaned over to gently kiss Maria on the lips, which she shyly accepted before beaming at me and nuzzling into my shoulder.
"Hey, everything's fine now," I reminded her with a whisper against her ear. "We're free." I stroked my woman's hair, deeply pleased that she was no longer our family's hired help. She was so much more than that, and I was incredibly cosmically fucking lucky that a recovering teenage dipshit like me could have a woman like her.
"Yes," she nodded, relaxing against me as if those were the words she needed to hear. "No more like Cinderella in storybook, ah? Now just Beauty and the Beast!" Maria giggled.
"Yeah, if you're talking about my dick, maybe," I said out the corner of my mouth.
She smirked and kissed me on the cheek, snuggling under my arm and closing her eyes, sighing in contentment. "Mhm. You big beast dick. I wan suck him soon," she purred quietly. "I miss him. I so hot, baby...miss you cum," she whispered in my ear, nibbling at my earlobe and making my cheeks flush hot.
"We're on the plane," I warned her under my breath as she kissed me again.
"We get off plane, mmm, then I suck you big horse-diick all way back to Davao," Maria declared, grinning at me with that beautiful, insatiably mischievous light in her eyes.
I was painfully hard and trying not to squirm in my seat.
My broodmare just laughed quietly at my expression, licking the corner of her lips at my expense. I tried to relax, my cock throbbing, wanting desperately to rut the hell out of her. I contemplated us joining the Mile High club but there was no fucking way we'd both fit in the lavatory with her huge pregnant bump. It'd have to wait. We'd be in the Philippines soon enough.
The lights went out in the cabin and a hush settled. There was the soft glare of reading lamps and the muted glow of screens dotting the darkness, voices giving way to the thrum of the 737's transit. Disposable earphones worn on her crown of jet black hair, Maria watched the in-flight entertainment systems that lowered from the overhead compartments, flickering with a selection of movies, music, and the moving map that tracked our journey to Manilla.
It'd been such a surreal day. It started with me loading Maria's suitcase and bags into a taxi early in the morning, with my dad showing up to see her off. Mother feigned illness up in the bedroom for her absence, which was probably for the best. My father slipped Maria an envelope with some gratuity for her years of service and the impending birth, and she hugged him, crying softly for his kindness. Our own lingering embrace was an awkward, chaste one, before our maid left the villa house forever. I followed in the afternoon after saying my goodbyes -- a slap on the back from my father and a sobbing silence through a locked bedroom door from my mother. Dad had promised monthly wire transfers to my account for living expenses at Princeton, but beyond that, I was effectively on my own.
As my life shifted into unknown territory, that cold, strange thrill in my chest was back. This time, though, it felt good. A little scary, hurtling into the unknown at 530 miles per hour, but for the first time, I wasn't alone. Maria's touch grounded me as much as mine steadied her. Our futures weren't singular anymore.
***
The Boeing 737 banked gently to the right, giving us a view of the sprawling, pulsating metropolis of Manila as we began our descent, its orange lights shimmering below a haze of heat and pollution. For me, it was my first glimpse of the Philippines, but for Maria, it was an emotional homecoming after three years of hardship. She was teary-eyed as she welcomed me to her country with the crush of her lips against mine.
As the aircraft's wheels made jolting contact with the runway of Ninoy Aquino International Airport, Maria was hugging my arm with giddiness, a huge smile on her face. The plane taxied to the gate, the seatbelt sign chimed off, and the cabin bustled with the anticipation of deboarding.
Stepping into the jet bridge we were immediately enveloped in the hot, humid air; a stark, blasting contrast to the cool, regulated climate of the plane. Maria inhaled deeply with closed eyes. It was subtly different from Bangkok's but still a tropical, fetid mix of exhaust and distant jungle. With exasperation, my Filipina shooed away the good intentions of the stewardesses who tried to offer her a wheelchair.
"I walk just fine!" she huffed, a hand on the top of her bulging stomach, another on her back. "Buntis ako, hindi walang magawa! My husbaand take bags. Salamat, salamat!"
Soon the wheels of the suitcases I pulled clicked rhythmically against the polished floor of the terminal, blending with the cacophony of hurried footsteps and the low rumble of luggage trolleys. The cool air provided a brief respite from the persistent heat that clung to our skin like a second layer.
Past the bored bureaucracy of Immigration, the main concourse buzzed with frenetic energy. It felt like the Financial Crisis wasn't here yet. Travelers, from wide-eyed tourists to worldly businessmen, all moved in an unceasing migration of departure and arrival. Voices called out in Tagalog, offering warm welcomes and heartfelt farewells. Stories ended and others began here, all under the vast canopy of the airport's high ceilings -- ours was just one of a hundred thousand that day, but I liked to think it was the most special.
Amidst the ebb and flow of the crowd, I could hear the occasional trill of birds that had found their way inside. Children rode atop the suitcases, eyes bright with the excitement of travel, while parents talked among themselves, interspersed with laughs and the occasional admonition of a straying toddler. Watching them, Maria couldn't help but smile at the sight of the kids, caressing her bump with a tender expression.
"Carl, I hungry," she suddenly announced as we neared the check-in counters for the next leg of our trip.
"Again? Oh, uh...sure," I said as I slowed our train of luggage to a stop, used to her cravings. "I guess we have time."
My woman walked with purpose, with me and our bags in tow. Her arms cradled her swollen belly protectively, barking at people in the crowd who got too close. "Ouiii! Ilipat ito! Buntis na dumarating!"
Maria really stood out as she went down the main concourse, a radiant, sexual beacon that made me proud and a little turned on to be seen with her. Maria looked every part an Asian maternity model as her hips swung with confidence, drawing attention with every step, her feet barely leaving the floor as she wove her way through the crowds, a determined look on her face.
The open area was ringed with eateries, but one in particular commanded Maria's attention: the bright red and yellow sign of Jollibee. The jingle played over the store's speakers seemed to make Maria's eyes sparkle. As we joined a short line of passengers for an 8pm indulgence, I scanned the menu skeptically.
"This looks a lot like McDonald's." I deadpanned, my hand on the small of her back.
"Don't be silly," my lover replied, sniffing as if I was being purposefully obstinate. "Jollibee much better! Their Jolly Spaghetti, wow!"
Maria ordered with the familiarity of an old friend -- the Chickenjoy bucket with extra gravy, a Jolly Spaghetti, two Yumburgers, fries, and a peach mango pie. We found a spot amidst the airport Jollibee's colorful plastic chairs and tables to settle in. Maria unwrapped a Yumburger and handed it to me, urging me to take my first bite and promising me it was way better than any McChicken. I honestly didn't like it that much but tried not to broadcast it. Maria grinned with amusement and dug in with happiness, telling me about her rare childhood trips with her sister to the Jollibee in Davao.
"We don't have this in my village," Maria sighed contentedly, comforting our unborn children with a gentle caress of her pregnant abdomen, so large that it spread her legs while sitting down. "But we have best fish, chicken, pig and sweet mango you ever taste. When we get back to Barangay Alon, we will eat veeeerrrry good."
"All you think about is food," I laughed.
"Because I have hungry babies!" Maria laughed in reply, patting the sides of her swollen abdomen. She bit her bottom lip at me in that sensual, sly way of hers, giving her hips a couple of lewd little thrusts in the food court chair. "I think about sex too. Lots of fuck with my husbaand big white horse diick."
"Yeah, well, you'd better be ready when we get to Davao," I laughed, giving her thigh a firm squeeze. "I'll be in a room with you every night from now on."
****
It was late when we finally reached Davao. A far cry from the capital airports of Bangkok or Manilla, the terminal was an unassuming, low-slung structure of faded paint and weathered brick, filled with a sleepy ambiance and the unhurried activity of its night staff. Dimly lit with fluorescent lights flickering here and there, it was a totally different tempo than the wild, vibrant hustle of Manilla. I could tell Maria was sleepy, but her excitement at being back in Mindanao after so many years of being an overseas Filipino worker, and her joy at having me here with her, kept her chatting exuberantly and jostling around in her heavily pregnant state.
"Davao! Welcome, welcome, ah?" Maria purred at me through a wide grin, practically hanging on my arm. "You see how different here! Don't worry, I take care of you."
Through the sliding doors and into the street, the smell and humid midnight broil of the Filipino tropics hit me -- the earthy scent of rain-soaked grass and palm leaves, lingering jasmine, the acrid burn of diesel, the oily lure of strange food stands, and the faintness of the distant ocean. Past the drab-colored sea of drivers and child beggars, with shouting faces and waving hands, we crossed the busy street to a herd of airport buses, one of them taking us to our hotel for the night.
As soon as the door to our room closed behind us, Maria was in my arms and pressing me against the wall with the jangling thud of our bags hitting the floor. She was pulling me down, lips pressed to mine while her pregnant belly and full tits mashed into my chest. Maria pushed her tongue into my mouth, her soft moans of longing and relief muffled by the kiss. She took my face in her hands to bury it against her pregnant bust, pulling her straps down to bare her shoulders, then her teats with their fat, hard nipples jutting out for me to nurse -- awaiting the attention of my lips, tongue, and teeth. When I came up for air after draining her sweet milk, Maria's hands went for my crotch, her eyes filled with need when she looked into mine, slowly sliding to her knees.
"Oh shit," I breathed, petting her head. "You don't waste time, do you? You're not tired?"
"I no tired," she purred, nuzzling her cheek against my rapidly stiffening dick, a lascivious smirk on her face as she eyed the outline of my swelling manhood in my cargo pants. Maria pulled the waistband of my boxers down to expose my hardening white cock. Maria took it into her eager hand, stiff and hot in her slender, nimble brown fingers, the big head already flushed as I grew harder and longer, quickly throbbing to my full length and thickness.
My lover's greedy mouth was around it almost immediately, a suckling heaven of lewd, unrelenting pleasure shorting out my brain as Maria sucked my dick with all the enthusiasm she'd promised and more.
I stroked the back of my mare's head with both hands as she bobbed slowly, letting her warm, wet tongue work me over and her soft lips stroke me. My beautiful Filipina sighed in contentment at the taste and the fullness of my young cock, her dark almond-shaped eyes rolling up at me with the wanton look she always wore when sucking my dick. Maria loved being on her knees, making her husband happy. I savored the sight of her full, pregnant Asian tits hanging free as she took me in again and again, a hungry look in her eyes. I knew how much she loved drinking my cum but her need became too great as she got distracted, hand between the crouched squat of her legs, desperately rubbing her covered pussy.
"Take your clothes off," I murmured.
With a knowing smile, Maria leaned up from my dick and let it pop free from her mouth, standing with an alluring, sinuous slowness to her motions, swaying her flared hips and making a show of it for me. She slowly lifted the hem of her maternity dress up and over her big pregnant belly and swollen tits. My lover's dark areolae, thick and puffy like eraser nubs, dragged over the fabric as it pulled away.
She reached back to unhook her bra with practiced fingers and let her taut, engorged breasts bounce and fully spill out of the cups. Maria ran her hands along the sides of her large teats, watching my eyes and cock, my manhood twitching and aching to feel the hot embrace of her hairy mare pussy around me.
My woman's hands continued to glide downwards onto her round, full stomach topped with its popped-out navel and the hem of her maternity panties, dark from her leaking arousal. The thin, cotton fabric strained over her prominent labia, pussy so wet that I could clearly see it outlined against her panties. Maria took two steps to the nearest seat, turned, and bent down to present herself to me, a mischievous smile on her face. She peeked back over her shoulder, giving me a full view of her little round pregnant ass and engorged cunt.
