By Courtney Michelle
So, I was pregnant. And horny. I was fat, a gut full of baby. Not feeling sexy in the least. But, horny, nonetheless. “The baby is going to feel it,” he said. Dammit! I need to be satisfied and he’s worried about a zygote.
My man was scared to penetrate, actually told me he thinks his penis would harm our baby.
Meanwhile, I’m thinking, “Unless your dick was bigger than the centimeters I’d already dilated, we shouldn’t have an issue. So please: Just. Fuck. Me.”
A little encouragement seemed to help. I did my best to make him feel comfortable in entering me. I teased his manhood with my hands and spit. I whispered dirty, nasty things in his ear in barely audible tones. I placed his hand between my welcome legs so he could feel the heat emanating from my honey pot.
Eventually, he obliged. He agreed to give me the D. But not how I wanted it. He tried to be soft and slow. But, I wanted—fuck that, I needed—rough, uncontrollable ecstasy. I needed furious deep strokes and ass smacks. I needed the sex that helped create our unborn masterpiece.
Love me. My emotions are wild. I need love. I need sex. I need to be fucked!
Apparently, the pregnancy made my yoni tighter. And wetter. And creamier. So, of course, he came. He tried to give me what I wanted. But, he came. After three minutes.
Left unsatisfied. My passion unfulfilled. My appetite unsatiated. Was it me? My weight? The baby growing in me? Or the tight pussy?
I have no clue.
But, damn, I’m still the same woman. With a few extra curves. With a little bit of a bloated stomach. With my feet a little swollen, my nose a little wider and my cheeks a little fuller.
It’s still the same supple breasts. Still the same baby-making hips. Still the same pussy…the pussy that made you help create this masterpiece growing inside of me.
I know I’m pregnant. But I still have needs.
At this moment, all I need is for you to please…just…fuck…me.