The Barefoot & Pregnant Stepsister

It wasn't incest. I just want to be clear about that right up front. It would generally be frowned upon by most decent folks that I seduced my stepbrother, sure...but it wasn't incest. The "step" in our relationship to each other is important for everyone to hold on to, as is how little we knew each other. We were more passing acquaintances than siblings, really. My name's Elisa, by the way. I was 23 during the adventure I'm recounting, just a few months older than Greg. Greg's father married my mother when we were both already in college and living away from home. We both found ourselves back living with these particular parents not long after finishing school and entering a truly horrendous job market. I had just about nothing in common with Greg; we remained borderline strangers despite living in the same house for months. Eventually, though, he did start to show a bit of interest in me...

Right as I started to show in an entirely different manner. To put it bluntly, I got myself knocked up. I'd gotten jaded and less-than-careful in my frequent hook-ups, the result of which didn't come as all that huge a shock to me. With a shitty part-time job that paid just above minimum wage and no partner in the picture, it took me a few weeks to decide whether I wanted the baby. I'd always wanted to be a mother and decided I didn't want to waste this opportunity, regardless of a few inconveniences that would most likely prove trivial in the grand scheme.

THE ANNOUNCEMENT

None of my housemates seemed to pick up on my condition during the morning sickness-filled first trimester. Around 12 weeks, the daily puking subsided and my previously rather flat stomach began to bulge. I wore loose-fitting clothing for a few weeks to delay the inevitable, then finally told everyone I was pregnant during a dinner we shared one Tuesday evening, 15 weeks in. Everyone was surprised but supportive, to my great relief. I guess I expected some of my unshakable internal shame at being an unwed preggo to be reflected back to me; luckily, those around me were a bit kinder towards me than I was towards myself.

That very evening of my admission, I caught Greg's gaze lingering on my midsection at least half-a-dozen times within about an hour of the announcement. After dinner I'd changed from a loose-fitting Slayer t-shirt into a much tighter, lower-abdomen-revealing tank top. It was time now to display what I was working with. The end of my nauseous trimester had ushered in a new period of feeling quite well...and quite horny. So very horny.

My usual bar scene was off the table as a visibly pregnant woman, and I didn't particularly care to socialize within my usual circle given my embarrassment at my maternal condition. Greg's apparent interest would have to do for now, I decided. Thus, tight clothes around the house and purposefully sticking out my nascent gut in a provocative manner.

It took me maybe half that first evening to decide I was going to seduce Greg. I wanted to be fucked and he was the most convenient party, and apparently quite intrigued by me. His eyes were glued to me instantly, and I quickly found I loved the attention, pregnancy hormones apparently inspiring a heretofore unseen degree of exhibitionism in me.

I noticed he was alone that night in the family room around 9, watching TV. Arching my back before I even got through the door, I entered the room with my belly as far out as it could possibly go. His gaze quickly shifted from the screen to my midsection, just as I'd hoped and expected it would. He was sitting on the left side of the couch; I took my place on the right, just a few feet separating us. I pretended to watch the television even as I could see his head turned conspicuously in my direction from the corner of my eye. After letting him stare for a solid 2 or 3 minutes I turned and met his gaze, giggling softly in faux-embarrassment and covering my modest bump with both hands. "Am I that much of an eyesore?" I asked with an exaggerated groan and a coquettish glance.

He blushed deeply and stammered extensively before managing to string his sounds into any coherent words. "I-I-I...n-n-n-n...It's not a-an eyesore, n-no...So are...you...feeling okay?" You could just about cut the awkwardness with a knife. He was trying (rather pathetically) to make friendly, pregnancy-typical conversation. Even with my intention of teasing him it was almost unbearable to witness.

I took pity on him and decided to play nice...for that first night, anyway. "Yeah, thanks, I've been feeling pretty good the last few weeks. Lots of morning sickness before that, but it's pretty much over now." I looked down at my belly and put on a frown. "Just getting fatter and fatter now."

He took the bait. "No, no, you're not fat, Elisa! It's...perfectly natural, right? And it doesn't look bad on you, honestly."

I felt my cheeks redden despite myself at the mild compliment. And now I knew he wasn't explicitly turned off by my growing form, at the very least. "Well, thanks Greg. I appreciate that. I'm really exhausted: another pregnancy symptom! I think I'm heading to bed. Goodnight, Greg." I got up and exited the room, feeling his eyes on me as I moved.

Smiling as I headed to my bedroom, I felt I'd made pretty damn good progress for my first few hours after revealing my pregnancy. I'd slowly turn the heat up in my interactions with Greg, hopefully to the sexy result I was hoping for.

A DISTINCT LACK OF MATERNITY APPAREL

Pregnancies are kinda long, and I was only about a third of the way through mine when I started my slow seduction of my stepbrother. Thus, a lengthy phase of teasing proved necessary. My strategy was simple: I wouldn't be buying any maternity clothing just yet, at least not for around-the-house wear. As far as covering my belly went, I definitely already needed it: the pre-pregnancy clothing I'd continue wearing would show an increasingly good deal of my baby bump. Which is exactly what I wanted in order to gradually tempt Greg.

I continued wearing the lower abdomen-revealing tank I'd worn the night of my announcement, for one. My swelling belly got appreciably bigger by the week, this article of clothing managing to cover less and less of it. By 20 weeks along the tank top couldn't even cover down as far as my navel. Greg and I were frequently home alone at the parents' house during the day, during which my exhibitionism could truly rage.

I did my daily yoga exercises in the centrally-located family room, unavoidable as my housemate went about his household business. My yoga outfit was skintight and showed off my entire bump with its sports bra-like top. The stretches in which I chose to engage tended to curve my back dramatically and stick my belly out as far as it would go. A particular favorite of mine for the moment had all hands and feet on the ground, facing up with back bent: my bump thus became the highest point of my body, the true focal point for any onlookers. Or, for one onlooker in particular. And he just could not seem to keep his eyes off me.

I reveled in the attention, of course. I majorly got off on it. It felt as though my time was roughly equally divided between performing for Greg and retreating back to my bedroom to rub one out. It wasn't too difficult to position myself in his peripheral vision while he was watching TV, eating a meal: anytime, really. The trick, I was finding, was to convert my peripheral position into the focal point of his attention. I could catch his attention from the corner of his eye, sure, but my real goal was for him to turn his eye directly on me.

This wasn't terribly hard so long as I kept dressing as skimpily as I'd lately gotten used to. Leggings gave way to short shorts gave way to underwear, at least when we were home alone together. Similarly, tank tops gave way to sports bras gave way to run-of-the-mill pre-pregnancy bras. It very much felt like I had my stepbrother's attention by this point of parading around the house just wearing non-maternity undergarments. There was no apparent end to my shamelessness, horniness, or exhibitionism. I was having a great time, masturbation-filled and masturbation-fueled.

Around 25 weeks into my pregnancy we had a particularly warm spring day. I made sure I was properly shaved downtown and donned a tiny, particularly revealing bikini to wear while lounging around the backyard pool. And to wear around the house for the entire day, too. "Go for a swim with me later?" I asked Greg that morning when he ran into me in the kitchen, already in this state of undress. He wordlessly nodded, not seeming to realize his jaw was hanging open at the mere sight of me.

We wound up hanging out at the pool together around 11 o'clock. Thinking about the sexiest way to display myself, my mind kept coming back to exiting the pool. Dripping wet, displaying my curves out of the water, adjusting my bathing suit: yeah, making frequent exits from the pool was probably my best bet for maximum attraction. I settled on using the diving board repeatedly as a suitable pretext for making these frequent departures from the water.

Greg stared at my body for the entirety of my performance, just as I'd hoped he would. I tried to be as obvious as I possibly could be without fully stripping in front of him. "God, I'm really stretching this bikini out, aren't I?" I'd muse as I walked between pool steps and diving board rubbing my bump. Or, "I'm sorry I'm showing so much skin: I guess I need some maternity clothes soon, huh?" These little check-ins with Greg left him completely speechless, eliciting little more than nods in the way of response.

He was a stunned observer, still not quite sure what to make of all my performing. To clarify my intentions, I'd just have to involve him in my shenanigans a little more directly.

THE RUB

It was officially time to further escalate things. I waited for him to be watching TV alone in the family room and sat next to him wearing just pre-pregnancy bra and panties. I loudly slapped my hands against my 26-week belly, immediately gaining his attention. "Greg, would you do me a little favor?" His eyes widened at the sight of me and he nodded his head quickly. "Rub my belly for a minute? It's really uncomfortable right now..." I arched my back and angled my hips toward him, bump dramatically pointing in his direction.

He gently placed both his palms on my swollen midsection. My eyes closed despite myself: it genuinely did feel amazing to be touched, no acting or subterfuge required. His rubbing started out slow, in a pattern of concentric circles centered around my not-quite-popped navel. Occasionally he'd push in on my flesh a bit, overcoming my layer of fat to feel what was firm underneath the flab.

I forced my eyes open in order to keep an eye on his crotch. It wasn't so hard to get someone to rub your belly as a pregnant woman. People liked doing little favors for the expectant. What was less in my control was Greg's reaction to the rub. So, I watched to see if our activities were producing an erection. He was wearing jeans at the moment, unfortunately enough, so there was an obvious thick-fabric barrier to overcome. But, boy, did he overcome that barrier! His penis was unmistakably straining against the fabric of his jeans' crotch, fully erect by the look of it. I closed my eyes again to more fully enjoy the rub, letting him continue for another several minutes. I now had the information I required: he was definitely sexually attracted to my swelling physique.

Greg rubbed my belly on several similar occasions over the ensuing weeks. He got slightly more brazen as things progressed, rubbing closer to both breasts and pubic region as he approached the upper and lower reaches of my abdominal area, respectively. He seemed particularly taken with being able to feel or otherwise sense the activity inside my belly. After asking permission, he would put an ear to my bump to try to hear the baby's movements within me. Progressively more time was spent on the rubs as we continued, too; he was soon rubbing for a solid fifteen minutes each session.

Throughout all this he was popping a multitude of erections, of course. His arousal was demonstrated over and over again, building my confidence for what was to come next. I was 28 weeks pregnant and we had been doing dry bare belly rubs for two whole weeks. It was time to introduce lotion to the equation. And maybe touching in the other direction as well...

I left a bottle of cocoa butter-based belly balm on the end table next to where I typically sat for our rubbing sessions. The next time we were home alone and I found him in the right position, I sat with him half-undressed and grabbed the bottle. "Mind if we use lotion this time?" I asked as if the idea had just suddenly occurred to me. He assented and I squirted some into his hands before he placed them on my swollen midsection.

This massage, lubricated by the lotion, was much smoother than those that had come before. His hands glided over my belly, rubbing in rhythmic circles with the creamy aid. Greg was wearing sweatpants this time and his hard-on was particularly glaring through that particular material. As he kept his hands on my center I snuck a hand over and placed it on his clothed cock. He was shocked, his mouth beginning to make some stuttering noises of protestation. My non-groping hand went to his lips, a vertical finger silencing him.

I only had to stroke him through his pants about a dozen times before I felt him start to tense up then pulse in climax. It seemed he'd been seriously primed to cum. He shot in his sweatpants, the resulting large dark stain apparent even on the black fabric. Greg's cheeks reddened dramatically: "Y...you...you can't..."

"Shhhhh," I put a finger to his lips again. "It's okay, Greg, don't worry about it. I saw you were a little worked up and we took care of it, no big deal at all." I got up from the couch, not wishing to further push my luck. "See you around, hon." Was that too much, too forward to call him "hon"? Should I have consulted with him before jerking him off? I had some doubts about my behavior as I retired to my bedroom to masturbate.

A few hours later he came and knocked on my door. "Can we talk?" he asked upon my opening up. I agreed and showed him in. He declined my offer to sit on the bed with me, opting instead to sit in my desk chair several feet away. "So...earlier," he began. "That can't happen. I mean, it did happen, obviously. But it really shouldn't have. And shouldn't again. I'm...Well, I like...You're..."

"...attractive, maybe?" I attempted to finish the thought he was having so much trouble articulating.

He blushed. "Yes, you're...attractive to me, yes. I don't know what it is exactly. Well," he nodded toward my bump, "I guess I do kinda know what it is. Sorta strange to be attracted to a pregnant woman, but it is what it is, I guess. And it seems like you might be into me just a little bit?"

I smiled and nodded, trying to make friendly eye contact. His gaze broke away from mine after an uncomfortable moment.

He continued, a bit nervously again to start. "Y-yeah, it...it seemed like you were. That's fine, we don't know each other that well, we're not really like real siblings. But we also are step siblings, in actuality. Your mom married my dad. We can't be hooking up, Elisa. I just don't think it's right. Okay?"

I stood up and put an arm on his shoulder, bump right in his face at this close proximity with him still seated. "Sure, Greg. I'm sorry. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. You're right, it is a little weird. I thought we both wanted it and we could have some fun. If you don't want it, though, that's totally fine, of course. I can try to get my needs met elsewhere. Don't be ashamed of yourself, though, hon. For the record, I totally seduced you." This allowed both of us to chuckle. After staring at my in-his-face belly for another awkward moment, Greg reddened again, stood up, and rushed out of my bedroom.

I didn't want to force him to fuck me or anything like that. If he truly was all that uncomfortable with how far we'd taken things thus far, I could back off...for a week or so. Then maybe I'd try the whole seduction angle again and see if Greg might've changed his mind.

CAUGHT IN THE ACT

I had to recalibrate how I'd approach my sexual conquest. I couldn't in good conscience repeat the same moves I'd utilized to arrive at the handjob I'd given Greg previously. New techniques had to be considered. I settled on letting him catch me pleasuring myself. Or, more accurately, manipulating the situation so as to guarantee he caught me in the act. Then the ball would be in his court as far as the next move went. He'd certainly be more than welcome to join me in my activities, but it would be more up to him than me grabbing him and starting to jerk him off had been. I wanted to give him a fair shot at turning me down if what I was suggesting was as wrong as he seemed to think it was.

I waited until he was in the shower one morning when we had the house to ourselves. My room was situated between the bathroom and his bedroom, so I could be guaranteed he'd have to pass by my door on his way from the shower back to his room. I left my door about halfway open, wanting to give the appearance that I'd tried to close it for privacy and maybe it had just drifted part of the way back open. Nude on my back on my bed, my bare pussy directly faced the ajar doorway. I got to rubbing myself and gripping a tit when I heard the shower water turn off. My 30 week pregnant belly jiggled and bounced around with my intense masturbatory motions, a sight certain to be arousing for someone attracted to pregnancy as Greg was. I made sure to moan copiously, an auditory element to make sure my show didn't go unnoticed.

After a minute or so of touching myself (and getting kinda lost in the pleasure of it, to be totally honest), Greg passed by my door. I saw his head move slightly to the side, taking in my room as he went by. Through the space in the door jamb I could see that he halted his walk just after my door. Taking a step or two backwards, Greg appeared fully in my doorway, clad only waist down in his towel. He stared inside. I stared right back, never stopping my rubbing. We made meaningful eye contact for a solid 30 seconds as I kept going and going. Finally, I made a little head gesture toward my pussy as I raised my eyebrows at my stepbrother. I hoped he'd read this as an invitation to join me.

He did just that, pulling off his towel as he approached. His cock was already half-hard, a most welcome sight. "Go down on me," I instructed. He kneeled next to the bed and pulled me to his face by the backs of my thighs. Forcefully but skillfully he began to eat me out. I was quite primed by my masturbation and got off for the first time within about ten seconds of his finding my clit. He kept going, though, through my orgasm and beyond it. One then two fingers working in and out of my pussy, he kept hungrily tonguing and sucking my clit. My second climax came just a minute or so in. The third followed closely behind it; I wondered if I might be going multi-orgasmic during my horny pregnancy.

I collapsed backward a bit after the third, exhausted by the intensity of so much pleasure. I motioned Greg up and onto the bed with me, having him kneel right next to my face. He was rock hard as I started working his balls with my hand and his cock with my mouth. I worked my whole head back and forth as quickly as I could manage. In my mouth, he started to pulse climactically after two or three minutes. I removed his cock from my mouth and patted my bed next to my belly for him to scoot over. He scooted and I jerked him off right over the bump, taking his full load abdominally.

His cum left a fun striped pattern across my belly; we both took in the sight for a minute or so. "I should probably hop in the shower myself," I mused. "I've gotten rather dirty." We smiled at each other and soon parted ways for the time being. This had been a whole lot of fun.