Dreams of Maternity Pt. 16

Bedrest

My wife was 38 weeks along and on doctor-ordered bedrest for the remainder of her pregnancy. She was...demanding. Not that I minded, really; it was just a remarkable amount of work to tend to all her gestating needs. I gave her a little bell to ring whenever she needed anything, and it felt like its chime reached me every three minutes.

I heard her ring for me and headed up to the master bedroom. "Eat me out." We were well past pleasantries by this point; she was sick and tired of being the pregnant one, and I was completely at her command. So, I did as I was told. Her bump was huge, soft, and liberally stretch-marked. I had to lift it with both hands to get any sort of pussy access, but I was well-practiced and ready for such a challenge. Much of the weight of her belly could be supported by my head while keeping one hand on the gut, the other hand spreading her pussy lips for the best possible mouth-to-clit connection. She was pretty much always horny and thus incessantly wet, making my job easy and fun. I got her off in two or three minutes and was dismissed from the bedroom for the time being.

The bell rang again, what felt like immediately after I'd taken a seat in our living room. This time she required olive tapenade and crackers, which were luckily plentiful in my dream kitchen. I didn't even manage to sit down again before she rang again, this time for coffee ice cream. My mind-freezer was filled with it: not a problem.

I got a few minutes reprieve, then a more active request: her breasts were painfully milk-filled, and needed draining. She got on her hands and knees (a serious undertaking when one's on gravidly pregnant bedrest!), her tits positioned above a very farm-y metal bucket. As I alternated between squeezing streams of milk from her left and right nipples, it was impossible not to be reminded of milking a cow. Her moans even started sounded like mooing after a few minutes. Strange stuff.

The bell ring that came a few minutes later was very much to my advantage, as she wished to blow me and swallow. I provided my dick and she did the rest. A few minutes later I oiled her bump. A few minutes after that I lotioned her bump. Another few minutes passed, and I was invited to feel how very much the baby was moving in her belly. That was a nice, magical Mother Nature-y moment. A nice repertoire of different activities had started to develop!

I was eager to see what was next when I heard the bell again after feeling the baby move. She wanted to be fucked, and she wanted my load shot directly onto her bump. Done and done. Dismissed after cumming, I didn't even reach the bedroom door before she rang again: I had to rub the cum in for her. After the rubbing, I barely turned away from her before the final chime of the dream: she demanded I lick the shiny mess off her entirely.

Overall, pretty fun demands. Lot of work, but she was worth it.

Filled

My bump was so taut it shined, breasts so full they were leaking. Additionally, there were the dozen or so other parts of me that felt swollen to their limits. Almost every cubic inch of me was full and swollen. Almost...

I had a few holes I could fill more fully. A sizable, weighty butt plug went right where you'd expect. I managed to fist my already-engorged pussy. Finally, I had my husband fuck my mouth. The feeling of complete fullness was divine; I just enjoyed my perfectly swollen and fully-occupied form for several minutes before the dream ended. It's a lot of fun to test the limits of the human body.

Rapid

I was female but not evidently pregnant as I found myself in a crowded movie theater. On the screen was a scene more unwholesome than one would ever be likely to see in (what at least felt like) a mainstream multiplex. It was fairly vanilla man-on-woman sex, but shown in close-up with penetration and sounds that would be a lot more at home on Pornhub. I was instantly aroused, fighting the urge to touch myself so as not to create too awkward a situation with the people sitting mere inches from my left and right shoulders.

Steadfastly, I kept my fingers intertwined just under my breasts so as not to indulge any perverse instincts. In alarmingly sudden fashion, I started to feel a swelling under my hands. My tight white tank top (sans bra) hid nothing, and I was visibly pregnant in seconds. Was I knocked up just from getting horny watching the sex on the screen? That seemed to be the dream-logic at play at the moment.

I felt my seat tightening as my hips widened. Looking down, my breasts were visibly expanding, too, and my nipples had already become dark enough to stand out under my tank top. Belly continuing to swell under my hands, I knew I had to get out of this confined situation before it became physically impossible, and I was not pleased that my seat was pretty close to dead center of my packed row. I already looked 5 months along and my expansion had only been going on for a minute or so. It didn't seem like I could count on my growth stopping at normal pregnancy proportions; I knew I'd be in serious trouble in another minute or so.

I stood up, folks on either side of me looking confused as to my sudden condition. Ignoring their gawking, I excused myself repeatedly as I tried to make it to the aisle to my right. It felt nightmarishly slow-going, my bump shifting my center of gravity and seriously fucking up my proprioception; the rapidly ballooning belly smacked into at least four faces on my way out. My tank top, which had been tight and pretty damned cleavage-revealing to begin with, could no longer contain my breasts, the right one flopping out completely for a moment. I quickly pulled the top up to cover it, only to realize both breasts were excessively leaking milk, making that area of fabric translucent and the nipples clear as day to anyone who cared to take a look.

By the time I hit the aisle, I was about 11 months along, I'd estimate. As I headed for the exit neither breast was containable in my top, full tits completely exposed. Just as I reached the door I was hit by an intense contraction. I grabbed my tightening bump in pain just as I was jolted awake. It's been a while since I've had a dream experience with such qualities of a nightmare. Still a risk, it would seem, despite how well-practiced and generally in control I've become with my lucid dreaming.

Escorting

Eight months along and I was still escorting. This dream version of myself didn't see what the big deal was, in all honesty. From my end, why stop? I was having a very healthy pregnancy and knew sex wasn't a risk to my baby's development. From their end, what made me so special? I understand the extra curves, signs of fertility, all that stuff the fetishists are eager to explain to me. All that doesn't really explain it to my satisfaction, though, especially seeing how central regular old tits and pussy remain to the whole sexual enterprise. They do like rubbing my belly and LOVE cumming on it, but I don't really see how that translates so readily into extra money for me.

Once I started showing, demand for what I was selling skyrocketed; I doubled my rates to no objection whatsoever. Now that I'm deep into my third trimester, I've tripled my pre-pregnancy rates. Still, this particular subset of folks was far more grateful I'm still offering my services than they were appalled by my inflated rates. A decent percentage of my current clientele just wanted me to lay passively while they rubbed my bump and their own dicks; then, of course, they finished on the bump. For this, I was going to be able to pay off my student loans five years earlier than previously planned. Incredible.

Last night's client paid for an hour and only stayed 15 minutes before he seemed to feel too uncomfortable with the whole "paying for it" thing, about which some guys truly seemed to feel awful about themselves. Nothing to be ashamed of as far as I was concerned, but if it got them in and out quicker, they could shame themselves all day long. This guy had been very up front about not having much sexual experience, exactly none when it came to pregnant girls.

He didn't know what to ask for at the start, so I got nude and laid down, assuring him he could touch me wherever he wanted. Straight for the belly, to no one's surprise. He stayed clothed at first, but I could tell he was getting incredibly aroused within about 30 seconds. If I hadn't initiated further activities, he would've shot in his pants given another minute or two of bump access.

His description of himself as "pretty inexperienced" was almost certainly a euphemism for having been a virgin. Few paying customers cum so early in an hour-long session; it's really just the virgins that tend to go that way. He lasted between two and three minutes, if the motel room's clock was to be believed. After finishing on my bump, he asked me to rub it in. I rubbed it in for another three or four minutes; then he got the ashamed look in his eye I've seen from a great many clients.

He'd been excited about the experience, obviously, but felt like a scumbag in the harsh afterglow of the male refractory period. It was a seriously expensive quarter-of-an-hour for him. I hoped for his sake that he'd get over the shame and enjoy the memories...but I got paid either way.

Escorted

Consecutive nights of lucid dreaming, and a most interesting role-reversal! Two nights ago I was the escort; last night I was the client at the very same rendezvous. It was the night I lost my virginity, though I'd told my "date" I had a bit of prior experience. I didn't want her to think I was pathetic, after all. I had told her that she'd be the first pregnant girl I've slept with. It was incredible to me that I'd manage to pull off a preggo as my first sexual experience; I didn't care that it was a few times more expensive than most escorts charged. A pregnant escort was exactly my personal type of unicorn, money be damned.

The motel she'd suggested was pretty gross. Not ideal, but I guess some degree of disgustingness was to be expected in hooking up with an escort. At least I didn't have to spring for an expensive fancier hotel room. She was a gloriously gravid 8 months along; I spent the first 10 minutes of the hour I'd paid for just rubbing her grand bump. After all that massage time, she suggested we get to the sex. I think I'd turned her on pretty thoroughly. We had sex in a sort of missionary position, her legs hanging off the edge of the bed and spread as far apart as they'd go. She had to lift the belly out of the way, but other than that minor inconvenience it was easy enough to get my rock-hard dick into her engorged pussy.

It was the best eight or nine minutes of my life. I'd made sure it was okay to cum on her bump before we started fucking, and shooting rope all over her swollen midsection was the (obvious) highlight of the experience. Spur of the moment, I asked if she'd rub it into herself for me. She seemed intrigued by the idea, and agreed readily. I spent another 15 minutes or so just enjoying watching her rubbing my load all around until she had an opalescent white sheen bump-wide. Cum distributed evenly, she kept rubbing her sticky belly. It was hypnotizing. Finally, she seemed tired after about 35 minutes of our hour together, and I decided to do a preggo girl a favor. 60 minutes worth of pay for just 35 minutes of play seemed like a pretty good deal. I'd have paid twice as much for this experience.

By the Gallon

We were together in an approximation of my real-life bedroom, both nude on the bed. Her tits were big, but not ridiculously so. She'd given birth a few weeks prior to our hook-up, and her breasts were now painfully swollen with milk. They looked as engorged and spherical as they could possibly get; their nipples just about called out my name as they demanded I relieve some of the pressure. I latched on to comply.

I sucked and sucked and sucked, swallowing an intense amount of milk. After a few minute of sucking, I felt pressure in my abdomen building. I assumed I was just getting very full in a had-too-much-to-eat way. The reality, though, was that my belly was literally filling up...and out. Placing my palm on my midsection to try to rub away what I thought was just mild discomfort, I could feel my belly get bigger and bigger. I kept sucking regardless.

When it felt and looked like I was about midway through my new pregnancy, I switched from her right to her left breast. Remarkably, her right seemed no less swollen after producing half a pregnancy in my belly. Her left completed my swelling, eventually going well past the full-term singleton look. I had one hell of a hairy torpedo belly going, and I kept drinking and swelling until it looked like I had triplets weighing a good 10 pounds each. She managed to reach under the absurdly large bump to grab my hard dick, only needing to stroke for about a minute before I came in the dream and in my boxers. Fun times.

IKEA

I was only at the IKEA for a few wall-mounted shelves to store my movie collection. And maybe for a bit of people-watching: there are few places I've encountered in life at which I've seen more pregnant ladies than at IKEA. I chose to go on a weekday early afternoon, choosing smaller crowds at the sacrifice of a certain percentage of observable preggos.

There were still plenty to see, of course. It was a warm day and tight tank tops seemed to be the hot clothing item of the moment. I saw one woman well into her second trimester, another probably just a few weeks from giving birth. Fantastic asses on both, to boot; not to mention the fantastically tank top-assisted racks. Pleasant sights abounded.

The one that really caught my eye, though, was walking with her husband through the store's arrow-marked layout at roughly the same pace as I was moving. She was a very good size: 7 months along, as I'd find out shortly. She and her husband were bickering profusely, attempting to keep their voices down but frequently failing. Towards the end of the store I saw her sitting alone in an area filled with padded rocking chairs that looked way too nice for real-life IKEA. I couldn't help but take the chair next to hers and inquire as to the genesis of her displeased expression.

"Marriage" was her one-word response. I dug a little deeper, discovering details that fit so very many couples' IKEA nightmares. She was there, for instance, more for the minimalist aesthetic than for the bargains; his purpose was the reverse. So, naturally, they fought over just about every item they needed for their incoming baby's nursery. She'd finally told him to "fuck off and buy the cheap shit," taking a seat and leaving him to do the rest of the shopping on his own.

"Oooohhhh," she smilingly sighed as she finished her story, grabbing one of my hands and placing it on her nicely firm bump. The baby was indeed kicking pretty hard, which was awesome to feel. "Isn't that so cool?" I could only nod in agreement, amazed and speechless at my luck. "My husband would beat the shit out of you if he saw your hand on me, baby bump or not." She said this, but she neglected to release my hand from its position on said bump. Glancing behind us at one of the store's fully-furnished and -decorated faux-rooms, a mischievous look came across her face.

"He'd REALLY hate this." Finally removing it from her belly, she used my hand to pull me up as she stood herself. We went into the fake bedroom behind us, which rather inexplicably (yay dream!) had a solid wooden door we could close. Privacy was attained, and she had stripped nude within seconds; I was right behind her, cock rapidly hardening. Her heavy, milk-producing tits hung right down onto her sizable, smooth, egg-shaped bump. I couldn't see a stretch mark anywhere on her: this lady knew how to moisturize.

We made out as we fell together onto the (surprisingly comfortable!) bed. I touched her all over and it was awesome, to put it succinctly. She was pretty handsy herself; I was fully erect in short order. We moved on to oral, 69ing with her on top; her bump hung down onto my abdomen in a very arousing, weighty fashion. Finally, she rode me hard, cowgirl-style. I was able to keep both hands glued to her firm belly, thus my only lasting for two or three minutes before I came.

She came right along with me; we were both pretty loud, further turned on by one another's audible pleasure. We dressed quickly, suddenly both nervous that we might be caught for making a ruckus despite the visual privacy we knew we had. Opening the door a crack, I peaked out to see no one in the immediate vicinity. We'd gotten away with it all, miraculously enough. She kissed me on her way out: "I'd give you my number, but...well, we'll always have IKEA."