Plague & Pregnancy

I had semi-anonymous unprotected sex at about the worst possible moment, it turned out. The timing was such that my morning sickness began the day before the COVID-19 lockdown, the pregnancy test came from Amazon on the second day of quarantine, and I mustered up the bravery to take the test on the fifth day of being profoundly alone in my home. The test was, of course, positive. Being someone with a very strong sex drive to begin with, I was nervous that once the puking stopped I would be hit hard with pregnancy's horniest hormones. If this lockdown lasted too long, it could really interfere with my need to act slutty. It was mostly conjecture at that moment; but I eventually learned quite thoroughly that I was completely correct to have had such concerns. This Coronavirus was indeed a major cockblocker.

FIRST TRIMESTER

I spent my first trimester of pregnancy alone and puking. That pretty well summarizes it, I think.

Living in a new city my job had taken me to at the end of the previous year, I'd have had neither family nor friends around me even without the quarantine in effect. So, there was really no chance of support during my most ill-feeling weeks of pregnancy, COVID or not. I was, inescapably for the foreseeable future, in a bubble that consisted solely of myself. Goddamn it.

SECOND TRIMESTER

Four Months

After 7 or 8 weeks kneeling in front of a toilet, I found myself at the start of my second trimester. My midsection's engorgement could no longer be mistaken for bloating or fat: I now looked unquestionably pregnant And I loved it. I was hornier than I'd ever been in my life and had a sudden burst of energy that allowed me to take care of my sexual needs. 

Or, take care of them as well as I could all by myself, anyway. The safety regulations for seeing anyone outside one's bubble had not yet been established, never mind COVID-safe strategies for casual fucking (still waiting on those, CDC...). 

So my collection of toys would be put to good use, I figured. I started with a modest collection: a few dildos, a few vibrators, a few vibrating dildos, and a nice and heavy steel butt plug. My urges were out of control, the need to cum just about constant: I quickly tired of my limited selection of sex toys and started ordering new ones online, three or four per week minimum. I got a dildo the size of a large man's fist. I got a vibrator I could discreetly leave inside me in public, controlling the intensity of its stimulation via an app on my phone. 

I got many fun things, but I found I could never get enough. The simple fact was that I needed to get properly fucked, though that still seemed impossible at this virally dangerous moment in history. My best option, it seemed, was a machine that could fuck me. This was the most advanced toy I could find. It had some sort of motor or...something. I have no idea how it worked, honestly, but if I positioned myself correctly in relation to the machine, it'd fuck me with whatever dildo I attached at my desired pace. I'd have it thrusting in and out of me regularly for hour-long sessions, cumming innumerable times while I supplemented the machine with clitoral and nipple stimulation using my freed-up hands. 

Good as the machine was, it was no replacement for real, cum-shooting cock. My newly burgeoning bump was just about screaming for a load to be shot onto it. I was left unsatisfied regardless of how ornate and efficient my semen-free masturbatory setup became. I'd need to figure out how to safely enjoy some dick lest my horniness drive me positively insane.

Five Months

I updated my Tinder profile with a pic showing off my still rather modest baby bump, not wanting to mislead any potential sex partners. And, more importantly, wanting to attract any fetishists out there that might find my pregnancy appealing. That sort of pervert would almost certainly be pretty desperate to get with a knocked-up girl, hopefully enough to brave an ongoing plague.

I pretty quickly matched with a nearby man, Scott, on the "dating" app. He was very much into my expectant condition, it turned out; he admitted unembarrassedly that it was, in fact, the entire reason he'd swiped right. He'd always been sexually curious about pregnant women and jumped at the chance when he came across my maternal pic.

He was quite gun-shy about getting together during these early days of COVID, though. Or, nervous about contracting the virus, at least. Scott was fine with meeting up, but not fine with physical contact between us. We could occupy the same space, but for his comfort and safety we would remain masked, use lots of hand sanitizer...and never touch each other.

After some back-and-forth deliberations, we decided we'd basically engage in socially-distanced nude staring and parallel masturbation. He was interested in sharing the same space with a naked preggo even if he couldn't do all that much beyond that. While it seemed like it might just end up being self-inflicted teasing, I too was pretty into the idea of spending time with a naked guy (especially the cock part). If I couldn't figure out how to get a dick in me at present, at least I could look at one for a while. And the dick pic I insisted he send me suggested it was going to be a very nice dick indeed.

We met in a cheap hotel room, neither of us particularly eager to host the other in our respective homes. Our masks were never removed; but at least I knew I found Scott attractive based on his Tinder pic. Hand sanitizer was utilized every 5 minutes or so like clockwork, both of us staying about as clean as humanly possible. The room we'd rented had two queen beds: one for each of us. Without much ado we both stripped down until we wore only our masks, then stood naked near our two beds.

I used both hands to rub my small baby bump and pregnancy-swollen tits, hopefully seductively. He rapidly stroked himself hard as he watched me perform for him. My tit-gripping hand gradually drifted downward as I watched him jerk off, settling on my crotch once it arrived down there. I quickly tired myself out by standing too long, breathing through the damn mask, and having to reach around my belly to reach my cunt. Standing and masked masturbation isn't all that easy for a pregnant girl, apparently. I laid down to continue the act lying on my bed, my eyes never leaving Scott as he also continued masturbating.

Once I'd assumed the supine position, Scott sat on the edge of his bed to keep stroking himself while relaxing a bit more, all along watching me massage my bump and pussy. He jerked himself slowly, deliberately: he clearly wanted to prolong the encounter as much as possible. We'd rented the room for an entire hour, after all. I got myself off within 5 or 6 minutes, continuing to touch myself through and past my first climax. I'd occasionally been multi-orgasmic even before I was impregnated; now, I could keep masturbating pretty much indefinitely, orgasms usually arriving every couple minutes as I went on and on.

So, I kept at it well past my first climax. It was really doing it for me to watch Scott continue slowly jerking off. It was also driving me crazy: there was a hard cock in the same room as me, and its owner would definitely have fucked me under slightly more favorable circumstances. Goddamn COVID. I could more easily fantasize about taking his dick with it in easy viewing proximity, though, so I at least attempted to take solace in this fact.

Right as I moaned my way into my second orgasm, Scott shot a load of his own. He kept stroking throughout, flecks of cum visibly shooting up into the air and falling back down onto his body and bed. Most of the load dripped down the backs of his knuckles, pooling substantially in the pubic hair waiting below. I wasn't too surprised, then, when he hopped in the dingy shower once he was completely spent.

Desperately and irresponsibly, I wanted to get in that shower with him so he could fuck my brains out standing. It wasn't just about me, though: it was about keeping Scott and my unborn child safe. There was a lot to consider in the midst of a pandemic, not just one's own comfort level. We left our room after about 30 minutes, only having used half the time we paid for. There was only so much parallel masturbation folks can engage in before it gets a bit tiresome.

Rather than quenching my lust, this experience had further fanned the flames of desire. Even after climaxing several times, I returned home hornier than I'd left.

I'd gotten a taste for exhibitionism from having Scott stare at and masturbate to my pregnant form. I found it very arousing to be the object of desire, and I deeply wanted more of this feeling. To satiate my craving, I opted to go out in public with my belly fully bared a few weeks after my Tinder encounter. While I certainly read as pregnant by now, at 5 1/2 months along I wasn't the biggest pregnant specimen people would've seen. I would, though, be showing a lot more skin than is generally publicly acceptable for a preggo, and thus would be quite a sight for any lucky onlooker.

I went to the supermarket, a place where even most of us hiding out from the plague had to go occasionally. Social distancing was very much in full effect, but plenty of strangers would still be well within staring distance of me. As long as my belly drew some eyes, the experiment would be a success. I'd soak up some much-needed attention then retire home (or, if I was feeling less patient, retire to a bathroom stall) to masturbate.

I drew innumerable stares throughout my time in the supermarket, much to my delight. Though I needed to pick up quite a few things while I was at the store anyway, I opted for a hand basket rather than a full shopping cart: it would defeat the entire purpose of the expedition to have my bump hidden behind a damn cart. No one spoke to me or got closer than the recommended 6 feet distance from me while I was there, but every eye that noticed my belly was positively glued to it. It was quite the gratifying experience, knowing I could pull so very much attention.

All it really did for me in the end, though, was to make me want human contact even more. I masturbated profusely to thoughts of all these people staring at me, sure, but I was still left wanting greater things. I had to figure out how to get another human being to touch me. Preferably with his throbbing cock.

Six Months

I took to Tinder again to try to make a safe physical connection happen. My belly was bigger now, so I used a newer and thicker pic of myself to better advertise my pregnancy to any perverts with the preggo predilection. It didn't take long to get a substantial number of matches. Based on initial communications, most of the guys I found wanted to go further than I was willing to in the midst of the pandemic: generally, they wanted to sleep together sans any sort of personal protective equipment. I was not okay with this and had to turn down a number of potential "suitors" over it.

Eventually, I did find a guy who wanted to play things as safe as I did. Erik wanted to have intercourse, much as I did, but didn't want to do anything so dangerous as kissing. Not only did he not want to remove our masks while we were together, he even insisted we both wear gloves the entire time. He was a bit more extreme in his protective instincts than I was, but I was happy to comply with his conditions in order to get myself well and properly fucked. We'd have as little skin-to-skin contact as was possible, partially by utilizing the protective services of the condom, of course. I desperately yearned for a creampie, but that had pretty recently gotten me in the family way and could potentially have far more severe consequences in this new era of disease.

Erik didn't mind having me over to his place, so I agreed if only to be thrifty. Maybe this wasn't the wisest decision for a vulnerable single pregnant lady, but you have to admit I was being careful in a bunch of other ways. Not that that necessarily makes up for another error in judgment, but whatever. Fuck caution, at least in this one particular, hormonally-supercharged scenario.

He opened his apartment door wearing a black KN95 mask (same model as I wore!), a full plastic face shield, and latex gloves. Additionally, his long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans left no skin visible besides that on his face. Very considerately, he handed me a pair of gloves before he even said "hello." This guy may not have been a charmer, but he was willing to screw me and that's all that really mattered at the moment.

Erik didn't want to have any flesh exposed until absolutely necessary. He didn't care that much if I wanted to get naked (I very much did, besides the requisite mask and gloves), but he insisted upon only taking his cock out through the zipper of his pants and otherwise staying completely clothed. There would be no foreplay today, I quickly realized. So be it.

Once I got fully nude in his bedroom, Erik started robbing his dick through the crotch of his jeans. I could see his erection developing in his hand; once he was fully hard, he unzipped and took his cock out from the front slit of his boxers. I laid down on my back, pussy flush with the edge of his bed. He could fuck me from here while he stood, the height of his mattress such that he wouldn't even have to strike an uncomfortable posture.

As he approached, he took a hold of the back of both my thighs with his gloved hands. He entered me unceremoniously, the tip of his dick hitting my pussy lips the first inch of his flesh to make contact with mine. I was not very wet, despite having touched my own nipples for a minute to try to get a bit excited. It didn't really work; it was rather painful when he first got inside me.

The fucking felt impersonal, cold, and kinda creepy. Lucky for me, I'm a huge pervert! I got off on how awkward it was, on the desperation of needing to be screwed so badly that this sexual travesty constituted a decent lay in my book. He had a good rhythm to his humping, to say one nice thing. It was steady and just the right velocity for my tastes. The fucking lasted about five minutes before he came. I came shortly before this, my fingers working my clit (and careful not to touch his precious flesh) as I took in Erik's dick. There was no moaning from either of us during our respective climaxes: that would've been far too familiar for his tastes, I figured.

Once we'd finished, Erik pulled out without so much as a word to me, pulled off the cum-filled condom and tossed it in the trash can. "Get dressed," he instructed as he zipped his cock back into his jeans. What a goddamn gentleman. This had been maybe the worst hook-up I'd ever experienced; I was just happy I'd managed to sorta trick myself into an orgasm.

Having taken a condom-sheathed dick and lived to tell the tale, I set my sights on a bunch of other dicks: a couple weeks later, I decided to seek out a glory hole. Once a dick came through the hole, I could put a condom on it before doing anything else. If that was a dealbreaker for the perv on the other side of the bathroom stall, those were the breaks. That'd be my condition for getting them off, and I figured most guys would still jump at the chance for a free and anonymous orgasm.

I bought my big value pack of condoms for the occasion and hit the closest hole the internet could locate. It was a real shithole of an establishment, in all honesty. That felt appropriate and well-deserved for the sort of perversion in which I was about to engage, so I didn't care all that much. I walked around the sordid place a bit before heading into the bathroom, hoping to catch some flirty eyes. If I was hit on out here, I'd direct them to my upcoming session in the bathroom.

And, yeah, I was hit on quite a bit. Chalk it up to my fully bump-revealing crop top, maybe. Then there was the fact that I sensually rubbed my belly nonstop as I paced the joint. Or the short skirt that so grandly showed off my pregnant ass. Maybe it was the fuck-me eyes I shot every guy I came across. Whatever I was putting out there into the perverted universe, it was very much being rewarded. By the time I made my way through the entirety of the bar, I had a line of about half-a-dozen men following me to be first in line as I worked the hole.

I got into position and got down to business. I hadn't worn any underwear, so I could easily reach into my shirt for nipple stimulation and/or below my skirt for fun with my cunt. The first cock to come through the hole was waiting and eager, already hard and sticking into my stall once I was ready to start my servicing. I quickly slid a condom on it and got to jerking and sucking, all the while thoroughly rubbing my clit. This guy shot his load after 3 or 4 minutes, the entirety of his condom turning milky white. I removed the semen-filled prophylactic before he withdrew his cock: I wasn't yet sure what I was going to do with it, but I had a perverse distaste at the thought of wasting a single drop of the precious fluid I coaxed out this evening.

Cock followed cock followed cock. Et cetera. I'm not sure exactly how many guys I got off over the course of the two hours or so I spent in the stall of honor. I suppose I could've counted the spent condoms I was collecting, but I didn't think of it at the time. Once I'd gathered a fair amount, I got completely nude and poured all the cum from the condoms right onto my tits and belly. Most of it was still deliciously warm to the touch, much to my delight. By the third or fourth condom I emptied onto myself, I looked like an over-iced bakery item with rivulets of frosting roughly dripping down its curvy sides. Bit of a shame I was putting on such a show without any audience.

I just kept going, my abdominal skin far from being able to absorb this much thick liquid. It coated my tits and belly completely and dripped onto untold other areas of me, as well as much of the bathroom stall's floor. Once I'd finished bathing in the stuff, I got back to working cocks. While I did, I kept rubbing my cunt using all the cum as a filthy, mediocre lubricant. Despite all the protective gear and condoms, I was acting very recklessly. I just found myself incurably cum-hungry and had to do all I could to satisfy myself. I had no regrets. I still have no regrets.

THIRD TRIMESTER

Seven Months

I'd developed more of a taste and a hunger for irresponsible sex during my shift working the glory hole. It was officially time to turn to the internet's fetish community and locate some reckless fetishists. I opted for a keyword-searchable dating app, creating an OkCupid profile that employed such terms as "pregnant," "preggo," and "pregnancy." Perverts could now easily locate me and slide into my DMs on their way to sliding into my waiting hole(s).

And quite a few of them did get in contact with me, in remarkably short order. Within 12 hours of posting my profile, I had over 30 messages. They were from people as far as an 8 hour drive away from me, frequently willing to travel great distances just for a shot at my impregnated ass. It was pretty flattering, honestly, especially in the midst of a pandemic that made getting from point A to point B so much more challenging and potentially dangerous.

Stephen was my first "date;" he drove just over two hours to come to me (and cum on me...but more on that shortly). I asked him what level of physical precaution he wanted to use during our meet-up; he seemed surprised by the question, telling me he just wanted to have an entirely normal, pre-COVID-style date. His question in return was whether it would be okay, since I was already knocked-up, to do everything bareback. That was fine by me, of course, as I was specifically looking for irresponsible sex in the first place. No personal protective equipment of any kind? Sign me the hell up. I even opted to have this complete stranger come over to my actual home.