Cocktail Hour

I was refilling water glasses when the DJ switched things up and put on "Drop it Like it's Hot." The white girls went nuts and flocked to the dance floor, and when I glanced over at Emily she was talking animatedly to her friends. She held out her hand and one of them helped her to her feet. I thought she might be going to the bathroom, but she was waddling to the dance floor.

Emily's dancing was goofy at first, big exaggerated moves as she giggled with her friends. And that was good enough for me. I watched her hips shimmy and her boobs shake as she wobbled, awkwardly moving her weight from foot to foot. I stared as she rubbed her belly and people laughed. But then something changed. She stopped being a dorky mom dancing for laughs and I saw her as she'd been at my age, a carefree college girl who knew how to shake her ass. The ball and chain wasn't around tonight, and Emily was getting down.

She bent over and pushed out that huge ass and shook it. She put her hands on her hips and gyrated, crouching down, getting low. Her whole body bounced with the rhythm. The dumb smile disappeared and I saw the face I imagined she made when she fucked-- she was huffing and puffing and sweating with the effort, but it only added to the effect. If this had happened in the Internet era, ten people would have had their phones out filming, and PREGNANT MOM GETS LOW would have gone viral. I've wished, in the years since, that I had a video.

I forgot to even pretend to do my job. As I stood there gaping at her, the water glass I was refilling overflowed all over the table. I caught myself before the pitcher was empty, but I never took my eyes off of Emily. And just when I thought it couldn't get more unbelievable, she looked over her shoulder, met my eyes, and shook her ass right at me.

It wasn't a mistake. She was sending a message, and I was dumb but not that dumb. The only question was whether she was just having fun teasing me or if she had something in mind. At that moment I didn't care. My heart was racing and I was as hard as I could ever remember being.

She was still going for it, giving all the younger, skinnier women a run for their money. My eyes were filled with her: bouncing tits, jiggling ass, flashes of thigh as she pulled up her dress to move more freely. Her belly wobbled back and forth, looking heavy and solid and alluring.

Too soon, the song was over. People applauded for Emily. She shuffled back to table nine and gulped down the rest of her water; that was my cue. When I topped her off I was close enough to see the sweat on her forehead and chest. Close enough to feel the warmth of her body. She took another sip. Then, not looking at me, she whispered.

"Hey, how old are you?" Her voice was a little ragged. She hadn't caught her breath.

"Uh. Almost 21."

She still wasn't looking at me. "You remember that room you showed me?"

"Yeah."

Without responding Emily took her big purse and waddled away. I didn't realize what had happened until she was gone. When I was finally able to move my feet, I felt unsteady. But nothing could stop me from following Emily to that storage room. I was pulled there as if by a magnet, rehearsing my best lines in my head, imagining just what I was going to say and do to her.

It was dim inside, but there she was. Sitting on that folding chair, hands folded over her stomach, looking at me like she was wondering what took so long. I closed the door, wishing it had a lock.

"So I guess you noticed me checking you out, huh?" I asked. She said nothing, just kept looking at me. It was hard to read her expression, so I stepped closer. "I thought you were beautiful, the second I saw you."

Emily still said nothing. I blushed. Did I sound stupid? Shit, was this not what I thought was happening? I moved closer, looking down at Emily, my eyes falling into the deep valley of her cleavage. She reached up to adjust her dress.

"Hey, is this... I thought you..." I stammered. Emily's blue eyes were wide as she looked up at me. What was her expression? Serious? Seductive? Her lips tightened into a smile as I struggled.

There was a little zipper hidden in her dress, over her right boob, that I didn't notice until she was unzipping it. My heart jackhammered in my chest, the anticipation killing me, as a gap slowly opened in the green fabric and revealed...

Gray fabric. Her bra. Emily clocked my disappointment and smirked; she was playing with me. She opened the left-side zipper next, pulling back the material of her dress and leaving me looking at several inches of bra-covered tit on both sides. I gave up trying to talk. I could only stare.

The bra, too, had hidden flaps. Emily casually pulled down the one on the left and tugged out a wad of white material: a pad to soak up milk if she leaked. And then there it was: the biggest, most tantalizing nipple I'd ever seen in person. It was as long and thick as a fake nipple on a baby bottle, and so red it looked like cherry candy, set against the creamy white of her breast. The areola was as big around as a drink coaster.

I'd seen my share of boobs, but I'd never ever seen a nipple like that, and I wanted it bad. I wanted to pinch it and pull it and play with it. I wanted to suck on it and tease it with my tongue. I wanted to drink from it. And, a moment later, when Emily revealed its right-side twin, I wanted to do all the same things to that one. She casually tucked the nursing pads into her bag and got to her feet. That part wasn't casual, it involved some grunting and straining, but I was deer-in-the-headlights frozen and didn't help her up. All I could do was watch those partially-exposed tits jiggle.

We were so close now that Emily's massive belly grazed me when she stood. Her nipples pointed to either side. "Well?" she asked. "You want to touch them, don't you?"

My hands shot up and cupped Emily's tits, which were warm and firm and dense under the layers of clothing. My thumbs found her nipples. I was gentle, like I was afraid if I moved too quickly I'd wake up back at home. At least, my hands were gentle. My cock was lurching and bucking against my underwear, struggling for release, and my balls were aching and heavy. I'd been wanting this all night.

Emily closed her eyes and let out a magical sigh as I played with her nipples. My attention wasn't on her face, but I still noticed when her skin became flushed and her breathing got faster. I massaged her tits, my hands unable to wrap all the way around them-- and I have big hands! My whole body was tense and ready. I wanted to yank up her dress, bend her over and bury myself in her pussy.

"Unzip me," she said, her voice firm but quiet. When I was too dumb to figure out what other zippers could be unzipped, she pointed to her back. With one hand full of tit, I reached around, my fingers brushing her neck, feeling downy hair and soft skin on the way to the zipper. I tugged. It was tough; the dress was tighter than it looked. "Use both hands," Emily instructed. "Don't break it."

I did as she said, both hands around her now. The big solid mass of her bump pressed into my stomach. I could smell her. My shaky fingers got the job done and the zipper inched down, exposing smooth white skin and the band of her bra.

Emily glanced at the door, then tugged down her dress and bra, getting rid of all that cumbersome fabric between me and her chest. She was still mostly dressed, all the extra material bunched up on top of her stomach, but now her boobs were out in all their glory.

"Oh my God," I groaned. Emily could play cool and silent, but I couldn't. The image of those tits was instantly seared into my brain. Freed from the nursing bra, they hung lower, one on either side of her belly. But they still looked comically inflated and full, like the cartoon boobs I used to draw for inspiration in the days before the internet. I saw silvery stretch marks on their upper hemispheres and veins under the skin. The right one was noticeably bigger.

Emily's smug little smile told me this was the reaction she'd been hoping for. I hadn't been able to keep my eyes off those things when they were covered; now that they were out I was actually avoiding blinking so I wouldn't have to look away. I hefted Emily's boobs in my hands, my dark skin contrasting against hers. I wasn't prepared for how heavy they were. It took effort to lift them. I squeezed slowly and my whole body shuddered. I mashed them together and created cleavage that would put the Grand Canyon to shame. Then I kissed that canyon.

After all that dancing her skin tasted of sweat. I kissed again, pressing those boobs around my face, then licked up and down, tasting salt. Emily didn't seem to mind, so I kept kissing, down and down that massive breast, until I came to her nipple. I licked all the way around it and Emily groaned. I licked around the other nipple too. My hips were thrusting, out of my control. My cock poked at the underside of her stomach.

She grasped the back of my head and pushed me to her nipple. I took it in my mouth, amazed at its size. While her fingers curled in my hair I lapped around the big fat nub, teasing it from all angles. I heard gasping above me, felt Emily's hot breath on my forehead. I sucked.

After a few hard pulls my mouth filled with warm, sweet milk. I made a surprised sound, even though I'd been hoping for this. My lips formed a smile around Emily's nipple. I swallowed and sucked more out of her, unable to believe what was happening. While I drank Emily's milk I gave her belly a nice, slow rub. It was incredibly firm and tight, actually feeling ready to pop. I wondered when she was due. Yesterday? I found the bump of her bellybutton with my palm. I'd spent years fantasizing about pregnant women, and somehow this was even better than I'd dreamed.

For a moment her hand covered mine on her belly, then she moved it to my stomach. She slid down to undo my belt. It was her turn to unzip me. I shuddered when she caressed my bulge through my pants. When she slipped her fingers through my fly and retrieved my cock, I groaned through a mouthful of tit.

It jumped out like it was on a spring, as hard as it had ever been. I opened my eyes, looking for Emily's reaction. She seemed happy with what she'd found. I always thought I had kind of a weird dick; it's quite long but very skinny. But it was young and hard as steel and that seemed to be all Emily cared about. I released her nipple, a drip of milk running down my chin, so I could see her small, soft hand trying and failing to wrap around its whole length: another image I'd never forget. The diamond ring on her finger glittered even in the dim room, and I wondered where good old Todd Mitchell was, and what he thought his wife was up to.

She played with my cock slowly while I held on to her tits for dear life. It was ecstasy. Emily looked like an innocent mom but she knew her way around a dick; lots of girls my age seemed to be trying to rip it right off or, otherwise, were afraid to handle it. Emily's fingers expertly caressed the underside of my shaft, applying just enough pressure, then came up to tease my tip and harvest my precum for lube. Within moments I totally forgot we were in public, and I grunted and groaned until Emily put a finger to my lips and shushed me.

She took a step back and let go of me, and for a sad moment I thought the fun was over. But Emily just sat down, that metal folding chair creaking under her weight, and went back to work. I spread my legs for leverage. My dick was right in her face and she watched it intently as she jerked me, building up some speed now. Looking down and seeing that look of concentration-- not to mention her boobs bouncing back and forth on top of her belly as she really put her shoulders into it-- made me twitch and buck in her hand. When she added her other hand, grasping the root of my cock, my toes curled.

I'd leaked plenty of precum but things went dry down there. Just before it started to hurt, Emily leaned in and ran her tongue along the underside of my shaft, as casual as if she were licking her thumb to turn a page in a book. She did this two or three times, until I was whimpering, then took my dick in her mouth.

It was hot and heavenly. Just a few hours ago, I'd watched her eat a mac and cheese ball and been excited by the grease on her lips. Now she was full-on slobbering on my cock, taking about three-quarters of it. Again, her experience showed. No fumbling, no teeth, just the right amount of suction. I've had pussy that didn't feel as good as Emily Mitchell's mouth. Fuck Todd, I thought. A woman who could make you feel like this should be treated like a goddamn princess. It felt so fucking good I thrust forward, hitting the back of her throat, trying to get it all inside.

"Mmm-mm," she admonished through a mouth full of dick, looking up with angry eyes and pushing my hips back. So that was a no-no. Okay. I was happy to do things however the fuck Emily Mitchell wanted.

"Sorry," I whispered. She paused just long enough to punish me, then started bobbing her head again. Her hand moved down to cup my balls, hefting them the way I'd hefted her breasts, appreciating their weight. When she put just the tiniest amount of pressure on them, I realized I was about to cum.

"Wait, slow down," I begged, now trying to pull my cock back out of her magic mouth. I still had grand visions of bending her over and fucking that pregnant pussy, giving her what her husband wouldn't. If her mouth felt this good, I had to get inside her. I had totally forgotten about my job, my responsibilities.

Emily just sucked harder. She was smiling. She was no sweet pregnant suburban mom. She was a devil woman. She bobbed her head up and down, up and down, ignoring my protests and whines, bringing me right up to the point where my balls raised and I could feel the cum starting to bubble up my shaft--

--and then she stopped. Let my dick pop out of her mouth and hang there, soggy and cold. I groaned in anguish. Some of her golden hair had escaped its fancy updo; she pursed her lips and blew it out of her face. Her smile said it all: well, do you want me to keep going? Or do you want me to stop? I'm confused.

"I wanna fuck you," I panted, answering a question she didn't ask.

"Uh-huh," she responded, wrapping her soft fingers around my shaft again. My balls were sore, badly needing release.

"Yeah," I said, as she jerked me faster, my dick shining with her spit. She was working up a sweat again. "I wanna fuck you hard."

"Uh-huh." Emily cupped my balls again. She didn't seem tempted by the offer. I realized I was going to cum this way whether I wanted to or not. Especially when she snuck one finger behind my balls and pressed into my taint; why the fuck did that feel so good? She was putting her all into it, her breathing almost as heavy as mine was, her nipples flailing back and forth as her boobs shook. I could see a drop of milk and I knew I was done for.

My face contorted in agony. I gasped and groaned, the whole lower half of my body seizing up and shoving forward. I tried to warn her. "Hey, I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum..."

"I know," she said, and it happened. A jet of warmth rocketed through me, my eyes clamped shut and I saw stars. I felt Emily's hand guiding my cock down. I could hear the cum hitting her, one spurt, two, three, four... I realized I had both hands clasped to my mouth to muffle the sounds I was making, and when I was able to look I saw I'd painted Emily's magnificent breasts and cleavage with my spunk. I opened my eyes just in time to see her milk out the last dribble, letting it hit x-marks-the-spot right at the top of that canyon.

I gaped, slack-jawed, gasping for breath. Aftershocks shook my body. I didn't know if I could keep standing. This happened maybe fifteen years ago, and sometimes when I jerk off I still picture Emily Mitchell smirking up at me from her folding chair, her full pregnant breasts plastered with the biggest load I'd ever produced. Cum disappearing down into her cleavage and running down to her fat nipples.

"Oh God," I croaked, my head swimming. "Holy shit." While my brain was off who-knows-where, Emily matter-of-factly took a package of baby wipes out of her diaper bag and cleaned herself up. I watched as she used four or five wipes to remove the jizz, careful not to get any on her dress. Her boobs were glistening and clean, still rising and falling with her breaths. She used two more wipes to gently clean my shrinking shaft. She squeezed out the last pearly drop, wiped off the tip and tucked my dick back in my pants. She had gotten what she wanted. She was done.

Of course, I didn't realize it, or I was in denial. "I can go again in a couple minutes," I told her, my voice sounding less confident than I wanted it to. "I still want to fuck you."

But Emily was already pulling her bra straps back up and tucking her boobs away, placing new pads in her cups. Her dress looked just fine as she got it back over her shoulders. "Zip me up?" She asked. Even though I was crushed that it was over, I did it. I would have killed someone for her.

She got herself to her feet, adjusted her dress once more, and shook out her arms like she'd been working out. She picked up her bag, stuffed the cum-soaked wipes into it, and left without another word.

When I collapsed into the metal chair, it was still warm from her ass. I stared at the closed door for a while. When I'd entered the storage room only five or six minutes ago, I'd been pumped up, full of swagger, ready to take charge. Now I was spent, unsure of what had happened, feeling used but in the best way.

All these years later, I see that Emily probably didn't feel that same spark I felt when I first laid eyes on her; she didn't lust after me. Probably she'd just noticed the weird kid staring at her tits all night and seen an opportunity to take out her frustration with her husband. It wasn't about me. She'd proven to herself that she was still young, still sexy, still worthy. At least, that's what I imagine.

When I finally staggered out of the storage room to find out what I'd missed, I caught a glimpse of Emily leaving the bathroom and going back to the dance floor. And Marta caught a glimpse of me realizing my fly was still down, but that's a story for another time. Not long after, Emily left with her friend, the woman she'd been whispering to, and didn't even look my way. Did the two of them laugh about the whole thing on the way home? Did Emily do an impression of me, open-mouthed and brain-dead? Or did she just smile quietly to herself as she was driven back to her unappreciative husband?

These are questions I still think about. Since that night, I've grown up a lot. It took a while, but I got my shit together and went back to school and got a better job. Somewhere in those years, social media became a thing. Emily Mitchell is a pretty common name, but I did manage to find her on Facebook. She keeps her profile private, but I can see that she lives on the other side of the country, and her profile picture is her and her two kids, teenagers now. No Todd. That could mean a lot of things. I hope she's happy.

I know I am. I dated plenty of girls, and eventually I married one the best one. It was with her that I finally got to live out my dream of having sex with a pregnant woman-- another story for another time, but it was as good as I'd always imagined. I told my wife about Emily, before she was my wife, before we decided to have kids. Sometimes she still teases me about it. To her, it's a funny, embarrassing, coming-of-age story. And I guess it is to me too. But sometimes I'm at the store and I pick up a package of baby wipes, or I'm in the car and "Drop it Like It's Hot" comes on the radio, and I get hard out of nowhere, and it all comes rushing back to me.