Eight Months

I married a good man. A man who worships the ground I walk on, who buys me whatever I want and gives me more freedom than in truth I deserve. Indeed, he treats me like a goddess, but there are times I would sooner be his whore. Even before I was pregnant, our lovemaking was sweet and tender - though admittedly passionate, competent and overall satisfying - but as my belly has swelled with child, so his use of me has been so utterly respectful (and increasingly infrequent) as to have me gritting my teeth with frustration.

My few attempts to spur him to use coarser language, or to lay his hands on me with harsh determination, or to attempt even so mild a perversion as a good ass-fucking (which I was sure that all men loved, though it seems my husband is the exception) have failed. Worse, he has grown reluctant to pursue even the oral pleasures we once delighted in.

A good man. A loving husband. But I am no angel to be adored with such purity of affection. Shame on me, but I am a woman who occasionally needs to be fucked properly.

"If not by my husband, then someone else," I tell Amy, adding guiltily, "Anyone, really."

"Maybe once the baby's out, he'll pay more attention to you," she says.

"Or maybe less. And I'll probably be exhausted from looking after it all day and being woken in the middle of the night. Not to mention I won't be all tight and virginal anymore..."

Amy laughs. "No." She leans over and presses her hands to my belly. It has been three months since we met last. "Is it kicking yet?"

"Sometimes." It's not just my belly that has grown. My nipples are bigger, and starting to leak too.

She sighs mournfully. "I wish I had a cock. I'd give you what you want."

I echo her sigh. "I wish you did too." I kiss her hungrily. "Pussy is sweet, but it's cock I crave."

"I always told you you were too much of a cumslut to ever settle for one man."

I've so far been faithful to my husband - not counting occasional trysts with Amy, that is. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"What's in it for me?"

"Once I've had my fill of cock, you can have me any way you like."

"Mmm." She kisses me, her lips curling with a mischievous grin. "You may end up regretting that promise."

"I certainly hope so..."

*

Nothing makes me melt like my husband's kiss. We've been married for two years, and together (on and off) since school, but being held by his firm hands tight against his muscular frame as his soft, warm lips descend on my neck, his sharp stubble scratching at my cheek... ah, it still does it for me.

That and the pressure of his hard cock through his jeans - except the bump separates us these days, unless he grabs me from behind, which I wish he would do more often. Thirty-six weeks and counting. Much as I love being pregnant, it does have its downsides, from endless aches and pains to moments where I am an ungainly hormonal mess, about as sexy as a block of butter melting in the sun.

I love him. I really do. It's just the sex is so tame. I love that he trusts and respects me, that he's not the sort of man to treat a woman like she's a whore, but there are times like this when I'm like a bitch in heat, when I crave to be treated roughly. Especially now that I'm waddling around like a duck and I'd trade all the kisses from my husband for one hard, urgent, messy fuck.

I push my sweatpants and grotesque knickers down to my knees and push my bare ass back into his crotch. "I need to go," he says.

"Then you'd better be quick..."

He extracts his hard cock awkwardly from the fly of his jeans, and I guide him into me. I'm not as wet as I'd like to be, but not completely dry either. The discomfort of his penetration passes swiftly as my fingers brush my clit and his strokes increase in depth and speed. "Harder," I beg him, but there is no change in his rhythm.

He does come quickly though, shuddering to a finish within me. I am nowhere near done, but I don't mind. "Thanks, honey," I say. "You can go now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Have a good trip."

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" His cock, shrinking rapidly now, slips from me and he tucks it away.

"I'll be fine." I kiss him to reassure him. His baby is in my rounded belly, and his cum is leaking from my pussy.

Two minutes later he is gone, the taxi taking him to the airport. I make my way to the bedroom, spreading my legs in front of the mirror and parting my dark lips to reveal the pink interior. As I stroke my clit, building finally towards orgasm, I pause to scoop up my husband's cum and suck it from my fingers.

*

One ex-boyfriend loved to cover my belly with his cum - back when my belly was toned and flat. I often wonder if it would excite him more now, my belly swollen with another man's child. That had been a weird, secret and shameful relationship, based purely on how much I enjoyed the size and skilful use of his cock, and his fetish for the sight of white cum on black skin.

It wasn't easy growing up the only black girl in school, but I had two saving graces. I was fast and could outrun trouble, and I found a great friend in Amy - the only trouble I couldn't outrun. Together we learned all about sex, with each other at first, then later, away from the village that had limited our choices for so long, with what men we considered worthy of our attention.

The first time I sucked a cock, I was kneeling side-by-side with Amy. Although I had lost my virginity, so to speak, in the back of my future husband's car the year before, I had never before had a cock right in front of my face. There's a huge difference between a hasty, fumbled encounter with a boyfriend and being presented with a relative stranger's thick, throbbing member.

We were at a summer barbecue, invited along as friends of friends, at a posh place in the city, the garden's high walls making it a secluded spot. The smell of burning wood and meat making me dizzy with hunger. It was immediately obvious that this was no innocent occasion, even ignoring the two guys doing coke in plain sight, for not one of the women was clothed, excepting stilettos.

It was like walking into a outdoors version of a strip club. "Um, Amy," I said.

"Relax," she said. "It'll be fun." In this she was encouraged by her friends George and Eduard, who soon had her down to her bra and knickers between kisses and obvious groping. Those last items of lingerie soon joined the pile of discarded clothing.

Being the only woman there still clothed, and lacking the courage to walk out and leave my best friend alone at a very dubious party, I didn't resist as I too was stripped by hands that caressed my breasts and fondled my ass, and that slipped momentarily between my thighs. Never had I felt so vulnerable, or so exposed. So completely at the mercy of so many strange men.

And yet, with their mission complete, and Amy and I removed of all but our high-heeled shoes, we were made to feel welcome, given food and drink, and soon found ourselves joining in conversations and laughing and genuinely enjoying ourselves. It was deeply uncomfortable for a few minutes to be naked in front of so many clothed men, to see them studying me without apparent shame, and for a while I tried to keep my pussy concealed from view, until I realised I was the only woman there acting like a frightened kitten.

Indeed, Amy was actively flirting, sitting with her legs parted as she devoured a burger and chatted easily with her friends. I was startled as an attractive redhead sat down opposite me and I saw she was a trans woman. She laughed as I gaped at her semi-erect cock. "Do you like what you see?" she asked.

I could only nod. This attractive woman had a cock that was both longer and thicker than the only other cock I had seen in real life. My husband's cock is, I would say, average in size, though sufficient for purpose. I couldn't tear my eyes away from this woman's cock, not least because it hardened beneath my gaze until it was erect and throbbing.

Amy's hand brushed up the inside of my thigh. I clamped my legs shut abruptly, but not before her fingers found their very wet target. "Do you mind if my friend and I take a closer look?" she asked.

The redhead laughed again, and spread her legs wide. "Be my guest."

Amy tugged me over - I didn't resist much - and we knelt side-by-side with that cock between us. I watched mesmerised as Amy wrapped her lips about the shaft and sucked teasingly on the bulbous head, sometimes meeting my eyes, sometimes looking up hungrily into the eyes of the woman whose cock this was. I glanced around to see a small crowd had gathered to watch us, but I saw other cocks jutting from open flies, no doubt eager to receive similar attention.

I took over from Amy, taking that thick cock into my mouth and trying to remember everything I'd read and seen about blowjobs. Amy's fingers found my clit and circled it teasingly, making me moan with surprised pleasure, even as a hand pushed my head down onto her. Her cock filled my mouth completely, and nudged awkwardly against my throat, and still there was more of her to take.

"Breathe out," Amy said, her fingers still brushing and caressing my clit, "and just let it slip in."

I did as instructed, emptied my lungs, and gradually allowed that thick cock to penetrate my throat. I made the mistake of trying to breathe, which was quite impossible, and pulled away from her, suddenly nauseous and gasping for breath.

"Sorry," Amy said. "Too soon for that."

I shook my head, recovering quickly. "I can do it." I dived back down onto that still-hard cock, and again let it slip into my throat, enjoying that astonishing feeling of having a cock filling my mouth and throat so completely, my nose pressing into the woman's soft belly as I held position for ten, twenty seconds, until the need for air was too great.

"My turn," Amy said, and took over for a while, determined to show herself at least as capable as me.

The redhead grinned happily down at us, idly caressing her nipples. "I've never had two women blow me together," she said. "Can I come on your faces?"

"Now?"

"No hurry..."

Amy and I took our time, alternating our attentions, making love to that cock with our mouths, kissing each other in between. It was my first ever blowjob and I wanted to make it a good one, but it was also slightly competitive as Amy and I each strived to be the one that brought this woman to her climax.

In the end, though, she did it herself, stroking her cock as Amy and I pressed together cheek-to-cheek, mouths open in a classic porn pose. Even knowing what to expect, I flinched as that first pulse of cum shot out at us - or at me, rather, missing my mouth completely and splashing across my nose and cheek. The next couple were aimed better, at Amy's mouth, but then the rest were delivered straight into mine.

For the first time in my life, I had cum in my mouth. Before I could decide what to do, Amy kissed me, pushing more cum between my lips with her tongue. I was taken so by surprise, that I ended up swallowing all of it while Amy sat there laughing hysterically.

"Thank you, girls," the redhead said with a very satisfied smile. "Name's Sara, by the way."

*

Amy arrives at my house an hour after the taxi takes my husband away. "You smell like sex," she says, grinning.

I roll my eyes, and go to put the kettle on. "Don't you have a job to go to?"

"Nah, not today. Today I'm giving you exactly what you asked for - if you still want it, that is?"

What I asked for... Sex? Hard sex - with anyone? "Um. Yeah...?" I'm suddenly not sure at all.

"Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I don't trust you." Except I do. I trust her to get me into a position I may well end up regretting.

"Oh, well. I'll cancel it." She pulls out her phone.

"No," I say quickly. "Don't..."

She grins and dials. "It's on," she says into the phone, then ends the call.

I'm not prepared at all for this. "I need to wash. Get changed - what should I wear?"

Amy laughs. "You're perfect as you are. Relax."

But how can I? I can't remember ever being so nervous. I'm about to cheat on my husband, who I love, while eight months pregnant with his child. And not just with Amy, whose mouth, fingers and strap-on I am on irregular acquaintance with, but with a man, possibly more than one. I feel like an utter fool, and it's on the tip of my tongue to demand she calls it off, whatever mischief it is that she has planned.

Instead I sip my tea, and marvel at the itch below, the throbbing urgency. It's a long time since I have felt so excited. Amy's right to call me a cumslut. I've survived on the diet of my husband's efforts, but I crave so much more. I want to ask Amy what will happen, whether it's safe, but also I know that if she tells me I may feel compelled to stop now.

Far better to be led blindly into folly, than to be wise and safe.

A vehicle pulls up outside, and a minute later the doorbell rings. "Ready?" Amy asks, her eyes bright with shared excitement.

I nod, not trusting my voice, and we head for the door.

*

Sara, whose cock was the first I ever sucked, was one of my three bridesmaids. We weren't regular lovers or anything, since we both preferred to be on the receiving end of a good, hard cock, but at some point in the middle of my drunken hen night, we had found ourselves together in the Ladies'.

"How about a quickie?" she'd asked jokingly.

"Okay," I said, half-jokingly, and we stared at each other for a moment.

"Okay?" she queried.

"Okay," I confirmed.

Ten seconds later we were locked in a cubicle, me bent over with my short skirt hitched up and my knickers down, my hands braced against the wall, Sara behind me. "Shit," she muttered. "No condom."

"Just do it," I hissed. Condom or not, her cock was between my cheeks, and I wanted it in me.

And then it was, and how wonderful it felt. And it wasn't cheating, not really. I wasn't fucking a man, and I wasn't quite married yet. Wasn't this what hen nights were for anyway?

It was a good, hard, dirty fuck, and over far too quickly, but as we returned to Amy and the rest of the gang, I felt very well satisfied.

*

I did not expect an ambulance. For a few seconds I'm horribly certain that something terrible has happened, but then I recognise the paramedic who is leaning against the side and grinning at me.

Tony. An ex.

It's a real ambulance too. I allow Tony and Amy to guide me into the back, and obey their demand that I strip, before I am laid on the gurney and strapped down securely.

Naked and helpless.

Tony adjusts his package, the tenting of his crotch even more obvious afterwards, and he pats my belly affectionately before stepping out and closing the doors. Moments later the engine starts, and the ambulance sets off - no siren, sadly.

It feels surreal. I can't quite believe I'm doing this.

Amy sits beside me, teasing and pinching my nipples gently as the ambulance rocks gently, accelerating, decelerating, and I soon lose all sense of where we are.

For all I know this could be a real kidnapping. Maybe my husband will return from his trip to find a ransom demand. "PaY up! OR we'll ScreW yOur wiFe INTO subMissiON!"

When we stop, I'm no wiser. The ambulance has stopped in some unloading bay, backing up to doors that lead into a brightly lit space that is entirely white and empty. It looks cold and clinical, even a little sinister, but the air is warm and I obviously won't need to endure the chill of the hard floor for long.

Because in the middle of the room - the only thing in it - is a chair. One of those gynaecology chairs, this one with stirrups that are more like leg rests, but which nevertheless will spread my legs wide and open me to intimate examination.

"Oh, fuck," I say.

"That is the point," Amy murmurs. She smacks me on the bum, propelling me into the room, and once again I allow them to guide me, although there's something a little terrifying about anyone other than my gynaecologist spreading me open in this way.

Because they're not just leg rests, they're restraints, and I'm utterly exposed and vulnerable now, no way to stop Tony staring fascinated at my pussy, no way to stop Amy parting the lips to show him how wet I am.

I mean, it's not like he's never seen it before. It's that I can't do anything to stop him. I'm completely reliant on Amy to protect me, and she's the one tugging playfully on my labia. The temptation to block his view with my hands is tremendous, though I resist.

"Fuck this slut, Tony," she says. "Give her what she's been missing."

With a moan of lust, he thrusts his trousers and boxers down to his knees, revealing a familiar cock that's hard and eager, its tip glistening with precum. He hesitates only to unroll the condom that Amy hands him, before positioning himself between my legs and driving into me.

No foreplay. No gentleness. It's fantastic. Rough and hard. I can't do anything to help, so it's entirely up to him to use me how he wants, and it's savage. Deep and fast, his hips slamming into my thighs, the head of his cock hammering almost painfully against my cervix as if seeking entry to my womb. In just four weeks, give or take, the baby within will pass through that same impossibly tight ring of muscle, and what cruel irony it would be if this infidelity precipitated an early delivery.

"I've missed this tight pussy," he growls.

I've missed that huge cock. I love being fucked by it. But there's something else I want, and I'm sure he wants it too. "I want your cum," I hiss back. "All over my belly."

He whimpers, as if my words excite him more than my cunt ever could. Withdrawing swiftly from me, he whips off the condom and aims the cock he continues to stroke. The first shot goes high, arcing over the mound my belly makes and splashing across my left breast, but the next makes a stripe across that mound, and three or four more follow, pearly white against my dark skin.

*

My husband, of course, would never dream of doing what Tony loves to do. As far as he's concerned, the only time it's acceptable to come anywhere except in a woman's vagina or mouth, is when she lets you fuck her tits. Facials and body shots are strictly an invention of porn and no woman really enjoys that stuff...

Hah! Call me weird, but Tony taught me to love the feel of cum on my skin. I love the look of adoration in his eyes when he sees me marked. I love the way it makes me feel both defiled and blessed, both whore and goddess.

To see his cum pooling on top of my pregnant belly, and feel it oozing down, out of sight, tickling its way towards my pussy... only intensifies that exquisite conflict. I scoop up that errant trickle with my fingers, and lick them clean with a sigh of pleasure.

"You crazy, beautiful bitch," Amy says. She hitches up her skirt to reveal her shaven pussy, wet and utterly gorgeous, and seconds later I'm treated to a close-up view as she straddles my head and descends, filling my mouth with the taste of her even as my nose presses against her ass. "Make me come, slut," she orders, and I'm only too happy to do so.

*

Most of my boyfriends were white guys. Very English. My husband too. It seems strange sometimes that I was born in Africa (Nigeria) to African parents, but I know nothing of Africa. I have no memory of it and have no connection with it. I was raised in England, as an English girl, and find as a result that I have nothing in common with anyone.

Except a dangerous streak of sluttishness that I share with Amy. We would tell each other all the gory details of our adventures, each provoking the other to seek new thrills. Often we even shared men.

Dom was a black guy nearly twice our age, and his reputation as an experienced and demanding lover attracted us both to him. That and neither of us had been with a black guy before and were naturally curious.