For the next few weeks, any time he was close to me, Ben had his hands on my stomach, waiting to feel the baby. I could feel all sorts of movements inside me, wiggles and squirms and kicks, but they were still too faint for my son to feel from the outside.
August passed by too quickly, the weeks slipping away as I grew bigger and bigger. My cute little bump stopped being so cute and little, and began to weigh me down. Getting off the couch was becoming a production. The pressure on my bladder meant ten trips to the bathroom a day. I got sweaty and cranky easily in the summer heat, and spent as much time in the air conditioning with my feet up as I could.
Ben hung out with his friends more as he prepared to go off to school, and I tried not to feel too sorry for myself. He wasn't always there when I wanted him, but we still made love a few times a week. My hormonal surge showed no sign of slowing down.
At least I had those little pokes and kicks to keep me company. They never failed to make me stop what I was doing and smile. At work, in my car, out getting groceries: the world stopped so I could connect with my unlikely miracle baby.
I always felt like crying when it happened. It made me think back to the past, eighteen years ago when I carried Ben in my belly and felt overwhelmed by the idea of being a new mom. It made me think of the future, of how old I'd be when my new son was preparing to go off to college, and whether or not that was fair to him. It made me think of Ben and the precious gift he'd given me, going above and beyond as my son.
In short, it left me overwhelmed every single time those first few weeks. Luckily, strangers and coworkers were understanding. I could usually just shrug away the tears with "hormones." And Ben was always ready to talk out what I was feeling.
It was a week before he left that I finally got to share one of those moments with him. In the third week of August I was just about six months along, and Ben had his hand on my stomach while we watched TV. Sometimes when I felt movement I just didn't tell Ben, because it made him sad he couldn't feel. But suddenly I felt a sharp jab, right under my son's palm, and he gasped.
"Was that him?" Ben asked, eyes wide. He pressed his hand into the spot on my lower belly, trying to get a better feel.
"Yeah, can you feel it?" Ben kept his hand on the spot, his skin separated from mine by an old t-shirt stretched to its limit. I thought the show might be over, but after a few moments the movement repeated. Ben laughed with delight, and I felt quivery and emotional, finally sharing this with him.
I loved how excited he was. "That's him," I assured Ben. "That's your brother." There were many days I felt like we were a normal family, that the child inside me was just Ben's brother and not his son, and I thought it was better to pretend that was the case. But my feelings for Ben had only grown, and our sex life hadn't stopped.
"That's our baby," Ben whispered back, and in that moment he was my man, my mate, the father of my child. I kissed him hard and passionate, the way I couldn't when we first started trying for a baby.
He returned my kiss with force. Our tender moment turned hot instantly. Ben pulled away and grabbed my t-shirt, roughly yanking it over my head. When we'd first started making love he'd been timid and gentle, letting me initiate or asking shyly and red-faced. It felt like a whole lifetime had passed since then.
Tonight, Ben got me half-naked before I could even say a word. He stared for a moment at my transforming torso, my fat breasts with their hard nipples, the round belly where his child was growing. Then he plunged in and grasped both tits, kissing and sucking at my neck, because he knew it would drive me wild.
I just laid back and took it, letting my son have me. I'd never felt so desired in all my life. My pussy burned as he moved his mouth to my breasts, sucking one nipple then the other, grunting. There was another butterfly flutter in my stomach and I moved my hand there.
"That's our baby," I repeated back to Ben, and his hand joined mine. He looked up at me, letting go of my tit. Then he moved his hand down my stomach and into my pajama pants. He tugged at the waistband and I lifted my butt up and he yanked them off. I sat there naked on the couch, waiting to see what he would do.
He stood and I could see the bulge in his shorts. "Turn around," he said, and I obeyed. I grunted as I lifted my cumbersome body off the cushions, then turned and grasped the top of the couch. I bent down, pushing my fat butt up, presenting myself. We'd been using this position more and more as my belly got too big for him to be comfortably on top.
I heard the rustling sound of him removing his clothes. Then his tip touched my entrance. I braced myself. He pushed in hard; luckily I was quite wet already. We both groaned. Big strong hands grasped my wide hips and my son began to fuck me.
That's what this was. Not lovemaking, fucking. My swollen breasts dangled beneath me; my baby-filled belly hung down. Everything rocked back and forth in rhythm with Ben's thrusts. We were animals, unable to control ourselves. In the light of the TV Ben slammed himself into me again and again, stretching me, making me cry out each time.
"Hit me," I whined, and he slapped my ass. It stung in the best way. "Harder!" He followed his mother's orders. In moments like this I felt filthy. The thought ran around and around in my head: this is my son. I'm letting my son fuck me. I'm having my son's baby. I'm disgusting. I deserve to be hit...
Those hormones were really doing something to me.
Ben was going faster, harder, hurting me a bit. I pushed my hips back, wanting him deeper, and he let out an anguished sound. He was so deep it felt like he might touch my womb, and then he wasn't there at all.
"Turn around!" he groaned. I didn't know what was happening. I let go of the couch, straightened and turned to find Ben, red and sweaty, holding his glistening hardness. "Sit down!" I let myself fall onto the couch. My son stepped forward, stroked himself once, and ejaculated. His spunk was aimed at my chest.
He always closed his eyes when he came, but this time he made an effort to keep them open, watching his seed spatter all over me. "Ohh!" he cried. "Ohhhh!" It just kept going, spurt after spurt, raining down onto my cleavage, my nipples, my shoulders, my stomach. It was hot and sticky, dribbling slowly down my skin. He'd never purposely come on me before. No man ever had.
Finally Ben's twitching, spasming penis came to a stop. He stared down at me, eyes wide, shocked.
"Was that okay?" he asked. Whatever animal had taken over was gone now, and my sweet son seemed kind of mortified.
I panted as I met his eye. My hand wandered over my chest, playing with his stuff as it cooled. "Yes," I said, smiling wide, reassuring him. "You really liked that, huh?"
"I really made a mess," he said, and it was true. He'd come a lot. But at least none had gotten on the couch.
"You go get me a towel," I said. "But not just yet." I moved my sticky hand down between my legs, where I was a bit sore, and pressed my fingers to my clit. I kept my eye contact with my sweaty, panting, red-faced son until pleasure overtook me and I threw my head back.
A week later, all Ben's stuff was packed and I was doing my best to hold myself together. I faced the loss not just of my son, but my companion, my best friend, my lover. I wanted to be strong for him, to not force him to take care of me. I knew this had to be hard for him too.
We planned to drive him down on a Saturday, and I told him Friday was all his. We would do whatever he wanted. I wanted to thank him for all that he'd done for me, both in the last few months and the last eighteen years. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday he spent with his friends, and my anticipation built.
Ben picked the nice Italian restaurant we always used to go to for special occasions, a decision that touched me. We hadn't been in years, and I had plenty of fond memories of putting young Ben in his nicest clothes and taking him there for a grown-up dinner.
We dressed up. I blushed when I saw Ben in a crisp button-down with a tie and suit coat. He'd become the handsome adult man he'd playacted as years ago, and I was happy to be his date. I did my hair and makeup and put on a new maternity dress, dark blue and elegant, showing off my six-month bump and a little swollen cleavage. When we saw each other all decked out, it felt like we were prom dates. Impressed with each other, giggly, excited.
We didn't act like we were on a date, though. We stayed in the restaurant for hours, talking about Ben's future and his past, how far he'd come, what he dreamed of doing. I told him again and again how proud I was of him. We let the baby take a backseat for once, instead focusing on Ben and the great adventure he was about to undertake. I stuffed myself so full of pasta I looked closer to nine months than six, and wished I had a glass of wine to toast with.
I was sleepy by the time Ben drove us home, but didn't want to go to bed just yet. I wanted to soak up every minute I had left with my son. I asked him what he wanted to do with the rest of our evening and he shrugged. "We could just watch some TV," he said.
"Come on, I want to do something nice for you," I told him, my hand on his knee. "It's your last night at home."
"Just spending some time together is nice," he said as he drove. "That dinner was great."
I smiled. "Would you like to make love tonight? We could do something different... we could shower together again, or I could... use my mouth..." I blushed.
He was blushing too, and stayed quiet.
"Is everything alright?" I asked.
He nodded. "I just want to be normal tonight."
I grimaced; that wasn't what I was expecting. He saw my pained expression and backpedaled.
"Mom, I'm sorry. That wasn't what I meant. I just meant normal, like I'm not leaving tomorrow. Can we just have a quiet night?"
"Of course, sweetie," I said. "Whatever you want." I worried again about the relationship we'd developed, if I'd gone too far, warped my son for life.
At home we got out of our fancy clothes and sat on the couch and watched TV. Like a normal night. Like it wasn't Ben's last night at home. Like we weren't lovers on top of being mother and son. It seemed comforting to him, to not make a bigger deal out of it.
Of course I was sad, bursting with emotion and so many things to say. It felt like the clock was running out on Ben's childhood and we were just sitting there watching game shows. At least I'd gotten out a lot of what I wanted to say during our dinner.
When Ben yawned and announced he was going to bed, it took all my strength not to beg him for a few more minutes. "Thanks for the dinner," he told me. "I had a great night."
I nodded, we said our I-love-yous, and I let him go off to bed like it was a normal night. I sat in front of the TV feeling lost until the show ended, then I made myself get to my feet and waddle up the stairs. Tomorrow was a big day; I needed rest.
When I got to my room Ben was in my bed.
"I changed my mind," he said quietly. All of a sudden, six months pregnant or not, I felt much lighter. I was grinning ear to ear as I got in bed beside my son and cuddled up to him.
I held him close, letting his head rest on my bosom. I kissed his forehead. For one more night, he could be my baby.
We didn't speak. I stroked Ben's hair and ran my hands down his back and enjoyed his weight against me. He stroked my tummy until the baby woke up and started to squirm around. Ben kissed my bump through my nightgown. Once at first, then all the way across its roundness. His rubbing hands found my hips, then my thighs. I began to feel his chest.
Ben kissed my shoulders, then moved down my chest. My nipples stood on end under the nightgown. He kissed each of them gently through the fabric. I continued to rub his chest, his stomach.
This was no torrid, nasty fuck, the kind we'd had last week. It was slow, gentle, and tender. We were saying goodbye to each other, at least for now. It took a while before Ben peeled up my nightgown and lifted it over my head, quietly admiring my naked body. He covered my skin in kisses, from my chunky thighs to the spots on my hips where new stretchmarks were appearing. He caressed every inch of me, like he was committing my body to memory.
After a while of that I undressed him and did the same. Feeling his strong shoulders and his bony chest, the shape of his hips, his ever-hard penis. He groaned when I touched it, twitching in my hand. He moved his own hand to the wetness and warmth between my legs and I shivered.
We were ready. He helped me roll my gravid body over, knelt behind me in bed, and inched himself into my body. I moaned into my pillow as my son made love to me, thrusting slowly, the bedsprings quietly creaking in rhythm. His hands stroked my back and my butt and my hips.
When we'd first started making love Ben could barely last a minute, but tonight he was inside me for what must have been fifteen minutes. He would pause here and there if he got too excited. He removed his penis then carefully pushed it back in, driving me crazy.
My back and hips ached from holding up my heavy body but I wanted this to last. I picked up my head, turned, and met Ben's eyes. We smiled at each other as he thrust in and out. The eye contact seemed to do something to him, because soon his expression was changing.
"Do it, baby," I whispered, rocking my hips with him, still watching his face. "Do it!" Ben's features scrunched up and he pushed forward and moaned. Warmth flooded my insides.
Soon we were back the way we started, with Ben resting his head on my chest, except we were both naked.
We laid there in the dark for long enough that I was sure Ben was asleep. It had been a long day, and I was getting close to drifting off myself. But then I heard his voice.
"Are you sure it's okay if I leave?"
I looked down at him. "Baby, what do you mean?"
He sighed. "I feel bad. Leaving you to have the baby on your own. Going off to school and having my own life."
I wanted to tell him not to go. I wanted to say he could stay here with me as long as he wanted; he could always re-apply to school in a year or so. He could be here for the last months of my pregnancy. For his son's birth. He could help me through those sleepless newborn months and talk me down off cliffs when I got overwhelmed and tell me I was beautiful when I felt old and gross.
I wanted to tell him to stay home so he could see his son's first steps and first words. To feel the joy I had felt raising him, seeing the world through young innocent eyes, watching a human being grow day by day. "Stay with me, Ben," I wanted to tell him. "I've never loved anyone like I love you. If you leave it'll break my heart, so stay here and love me forever."
"Mom?" Ben asked.
I shook myself out of it and gave him the sensible answer. "Ben, of course. I want you to go. You're at the very start of your life. Your best years are ahead of you, they're starting right now. You're going to go have adventures and get in trouble and learn who you are. Your world is going to get so much bigger. I can't wait to watch it happen."
"But what about you?"
"What about me?" I smiled. "I raised a smart, kind, loving son, and the last part of my job is to let him go out into the world. I'm going to be cheering you on every step of the way. And it's not like you're moving to Mars. I'll still talk to you. I'll still see you." I wanted to sound more confident than I did, but my shaky voice betrayed how hard this was for me. Ben laid his hand on my shoulder and it made it worse. I wanted him here to touch my shoulder every time I got upset.
"And besides," I said, taking his hand from where it laid and moving it down to my solid belly. "You've given me something to keep me busy. You gave me the greatest gift I could ask for. You went above and beyond as my son, Ben. Please don't feel guilty about leaving."
Ben rubbed my belly. The baby was quiet and still inside me, probably sleeping. "Okay," he said, and his voice was hoarse. "I love you so much, Mom."
"I love you too," I whispered, and pulled him in close, burying my face in his shoulder. Our naked bodies wrapped in each other, our child between us.
That was our real goodbye. The one the next day, after I'd spent a three-hour car ride trying my best to be chipper and upbeat when my heart was breaking, after Ben had refused to let me carry anything so heavy as a bag of clothes into his dorm room, was more for show. Ben didn't want to get emotional in front of his fellow freshmen, and I didn't want to reveal just how bad I was hurting.
We had a simple hug by the elevator, the kind of hug the other moms and kids were having, and on the ride down I joked with the other parents about how relieved I was. I got back to my car and locked the doors and cried until my stomach hurt. The drive home took forever. When I got home the house was so empty, so quiet.
I'd lost him. I had a man I loved more than life itself and I'd lost him. I knew I was being silly, that he was only a quick drive away, but I also knew how this went. Ben would call every day at first, then twice a week, then once a month. He would settle in to his new life and forget about the special love we had.
He'd start by visiting every other weekend but soon he'd have parties to go to, friends to hang out with... dates to go on. Even my quiet Ben would flourish, and before I knew it he'd be out in the world with a job and a wife and a family of his own. Every mother's dream.
When I'd lost Ben's dad, I'd been broken. But Ben, only a few years old, kept me going. His smile and laughter had given me a reason to go on, to feel okay in a shitty world. I had weathered that storm, and I would weather this one. Ben might have been out of my house, but he wasn't out of my life. And the baby in my womb would help me get through it.
I was too sad to have an appetite when I got home, but I knew the baby needed nutrients so I made myself sit and have some cheese and nuts and an apple. It made me feel better. After my snack I visited the bathroom, and I was on my way to bed when I paused.
I went to Ben's room instead. The springs of his little bed creaked under my weight as I got under his sheets, inhaling deeply, smelling him. The scent started me crying again. I didn't have to hold it back anymore, not for Ben, not for the parents and students at the dorm. I let myself feel as bad as I wanted and eventually the tears dried up and I felt lighter.
The baby stirred inside me, giving me a gentle kick, and I smiled wide. "It's gonna be okay," I told him out loud, and I pulled up my top and rubbed my stomach. I followed the movements until they stopped. The feeling of my hands against my skin was soothing so I kept rubbing. I found myself holding my breasts without even thinking about it.
I massaged my own tender boobs, my breathing getting deeper, the good feelings picking up, but my top and bra were in the way. I shed them awkwardly, rolling around in Ben's bed like a turtle on its back. Half naked, I felt freer. I couldn't believe I hadn't taken that bra off the second I got home. I rubbed them and hefted them, feeling their weight, toying with the nipples until my toes curled. I played with them the way Ben played with them, and when I closed my eyes I imagined his hands were on me.
One hand found its way down the slope of my tummy and disappeared. I teased myself through my maternity pants, knowing I was hot and wet already. I groaned and imagined Ben fumbling with my clothes, ripping them off my lower half. I twisted around in bed until I got the pants off, then my underwear. I could smell myself. But I wanted to smell Ben.
I covered my face with his blanket and plunged my hand between my legs. Slowly I pushed two fingers inside. Ben had gotten quite good at teasing me, fingering me. I wished he was there beside me, squeezed into this little bed, concentrating hard on pleasuring me. But my fingers felt good too. I kept the fingers inside, twisting them around until an obscene wet sound filled the air, then I removed them and went to work on my clit.
One hand pinched my nipple as the other traced circles downstairs. I was breathing heavily under the blanket. In my mind's eye my soft hands were Ben's big strong ones. I could hear him grunting with effort. I imagined watching his hard penis as he played with me, planning what I would do to him next.
"Mom..." he grunted in my mind. I'd never suggested he use my real name. I loved that I was still Mom to him, even when he was buried inside me. That's what I wanted. I wanted my big strong son on top of me, his weight pinning me into the mattress, his skin and smell surrounding me. His hardness pushing into me, deeper and deeper, up towards my womb. I wanted to hear him grunt and gasp with animal pleasure.
I was swollen and sensitive down there, the result of my flowing hormones, and it didn't take long for me to finish. I writhed around in my son's bed, my cries muffled by the blanket over my face. When I came to a stop I was sweating hard, and there was a wet spot beneath me.
A few minutes later, when I got up to pee, I checked my phone. A simple text from Ben: "Love you!" plus a heart emoji. I wanted to tell him what I'd just done while thinking about him, but I was sure he was busy settling in. Plus, we'd agreed to keep safe and never discuss our sex life over the phone. I sent him back some kiss emojis, went back to his bed, and passed out in the damp, sweaty sheets.
------X------
September 15th marked the start of my third trimester. I was just three months from having Ben's baby, and I was getting used to life on my own now that he was off at college. We talked a few times a week and he painted a picture for me of early-morning classes, late nights at the library, and budding friendships with kids from his dorm.
In turn, I told him about my days: my relief that the sticky summer heat was starting to subside, the way my coworkers had started to count the number of times I went to the bathroom every day, the baby's fun new habit of kicking me awake around four in the morning.
Ben worried I was lonely, and I was. But I assured him I was seeing friends, going to parties, all the things a mom with a (momentarily) empty nest was supposed to do. I worried that he was lonely, but he promised he wasn't too homesick.
Our phone calls were always chaste; you never knew who might be able to overhear. I wanted to ask him, "Aren't you homesick for me? Don't you miss the fun we have? Don't you want to come home and fuck me?"
Without seeing him in person, it was impossible to know whether he was moving on, pretending like our special relationship never existed. I wanted him to go out and have his own life and not be held back by me. Honestly I did. But it felt like a breakup all the same.
What I didn't tell my son over the phone was that my hormonal needs hadn't stopped when I hit the third trimester. I didn't tell him I'd ordered a vibrator online and used it almost every day when I came home from work and before bed. I didn't tell him I closed my eyes and imagined him when I masturbated. I told him every time we talked that I missed him, but I didn't explain all the ways I missed him.
The closest I got was when I told him how badly I could use a massage. I was entering the achy stage of pregnancy, everything from my shoulders to my back to my feet struggling with the extra weight. I fantasized about Ben rubbing my back almost as much as I fantasized about him making me come.
Ben, as always, would do anything for me. After I told him about my aches and pains, he asked if it was OK for him to come home that weekend. Soon I was buying him a bus ticket and couldn't wipe the smile off my face.
By the time the weekend rolled around, it had been nearly a month since Ben and I saw each other. There was a fall chill in the morning air as I drove to the bus stop. I put a little effort into my appearance, taming my hair and wearing a little makeup and wearing a new sweater that hugged my bump. It started to rain as I drove, dashing my plan of waiting for Ben outside my car, showing off my look.
The bus arrived and I could barely see out the windshield, between the rain and the fogging windows. I thought I saw Ben get off but wasn't sure until he spotted my car and approached. I unlocked the back gate and he dumped his stuff in-- a duffel bag and what looked like a big bag of dirty laundry. My heart was racing.
"Hey, baby!" I called out over the sound of the rain. "Get in quick!"
Ben ran around to the passenger side and climbed in. His hair and jacket were soaked from just a few moments outside. "Hey, Mom," he smiled.
"Are you growing a beard?" I asked. Ben blushed. It looked like he hadn't shaved since he left, and his baby face was buried under a layer of dark stubble.
"I guess so," he said. I leaned in and kissed his fuzzy cheek. My nostrils filled with the smell of him, the smell I'd missed so much.
"It looks good!" I told him, and it was true. He looked like he'd grown up a lot. Now it was his turn to size me up.
"Thanks. You look, uh..." He glanced down at my stomach. At seven months, I was already getting "ready to pop" comments. My belly was beginning to fill my lap.
"Huge?" I laughed, patting my tummy. Ben laughed with me.
"No. Well, uh, yeah, you definitely got bigger. But you look good." He was looking at my face now, seeing me with my hair and makeup done for the first time in a while. We both blushed. Rain hammered the roof of the car.
"He's already almost four pounds. I don't know how I'm gonna make it to December," I groaned.
"Can I feel?" Ben asked. I smiled. After all we'd done together, he still asked permission to touch me. I undid my seatbelt and presented my stomach, and he rubbed it through my soft sweater. "Wow. It's getting so tight!"
"I know!" I marveled with him. "I really had a growth spurt while you were gone. I got a bunch of new stretch marks too," I added with a sigh.
"Can I see?" Ben asked. I glanced around. The parking lot was emptying out as people rushed home in the rain. Besides, it's not like there was anything strange happening. Just a young guy feeling his mom's pregnant belly.
I lifted my sweater and peeled down the stretchy panel of my pants, revealing my bump in all its glory. My skin already looked stretched to its limit, getting thin, veins showing through. My once-cavernous bellybutton was shallow and stretched out, on the verge of disappearing. The stretch marks I'd talked about were red and jagged, along my lower belly.
Ben stared, fascinated, then touched it. His skin against mine made me shiver. The air in the car was hot and humid. My son traced slow circles around my stomach and rain dripped from his hair.
"I can't believe it," he said.
"What, that I'm so big?"
He hesitated. "That we did this." His hand slid around to the lower slope of my stomach, feeling the stretch marks. "We made this baby."
"I know," I said. "How do you feel about it?"
Ben nodded and kept rubbing, staring at my stomach. "It's weird," he said. "Kind of weird and kind of amazing."
"Weird how?" I asked, knowing full well this was weird in lots of ways.
Ben shrugged. "It's kind of scary. I really can't believe I'm going to be a father."
"You know that's not what I expect," I reminded him. "You just have to be a big brother."
Ben kept stroking my stomach. "Yeah. But I'll always know I'm really his dad."
I nodded. My lonely, hormonal body was responding to his touch. I wanted him. I wanted to take him home and strip those wet clothes off of him. But if he was feeling weird about this, I wanted to talk it out.
"You don't regret that we did this, do you?" I asked.
"No," Ben said immediately. "I wanted to give you what you wanted. And, uh..." he went red. "It's been fun. It's exciting. I really don't regret this."
I smiled. "I missed you." The rain was really coming down.
"I missed you too," he said, so softly I could barely hear it.
"Should we get home, then?" I asked.
Ben looked around. The parking lot was just about empty. Our windows were fogged, and rain flooded down over the glass. I realized what was going to happen a second before he leaned in and kissed me on the lips.
"Ben!" I gasped when he was done. My heart pounded in my chest.
"Nobody can see us," he said. He reached over me to turn off the windshield wipers, killing the repetitive squeaking sound. He kissed me again and my excitement threatened to eclipse my fear of being seen.
"Ben, let's go home and do this," I told him. In response he grabbed my breast.
"You want me to stop?" He asked, squeezing gently, making me whine. I shook my head.
He kept kissing me, slowly massaging my breasts at the same time. "I had to buy new bras again," I told him.
He smiled. "They just keep getting bigger!" He pulled up my sweater to reveal my boobs. My bra wasn't the sexiest one I owned; cute lacy things tended to only be available in smaller cup sizes. I'd bought a few of these tan, medical-looking bras to hold back my truly enormous tits. But Ben didn't seem to mind. His eyes went wide like a cartoon character's. Shaped and lifted off my tummy, my breasts created a huge canyon of cleavage that made me feel like a porn star.
Ben tried to tug my sweater the rest of the way off and I stopped him. "What if someone comes by?" I asked.
"But I want to get your bra off."
I smirked at that. "Guess what? This is a nursing bra."
He wasn't sure what to say to that, so I demonstrated. I opened the little flap over my right breast and exposed my big hard nipple. Ben let out a little moan. I let him open the other flap. He kissed me ravenously, one hand on each tit, his thumbs teasing my nipples. My turn to moan.
"I really missed you, Mom," he panted as he pulled his mouth away. "I thought about this the whole ride home." He moved down and pulled my nipple into his mouth and I hissed with pleasure.
"I thought about this the whole last month," I told him, still anxiously looking around. The parking lot was empty now, and our windows were so foggy it reminded me of a date I'd been on long before Ben was born, before I even met his father, to see "Titanic." We were probably safe. But we'd come a long way from only touching each other in my bedroom.
My son nuzzled and suckled my breasts, his hand rubbing my thighs through my maternity pants. He was making me so wet I wouldn't have been surprised if there was a puddle when I got up. I played with his hair and rubbed his shoulders and kissed the top of his head.
My nipple left his mouth with a wet popping sound. "I read that milk doesn't come in until after the baby's born," he said. "Is that right?"
I ran a hand down his back. "I think I started leaking a few weeks before I had you," I told him. "But just a little. You don't have to worry about milk just yet."
"I've been thinking I want to try it," he said. "Would you let me drink it?"
I giggled. "As long as there's enough for your brother, you can share."
He rubbed my stomach. The nipple he'd been suckling was big and wet and obscene-looking. "My son," he said.
"Your son," I repeated, my hand joining his on my belly. "That's your son, Ben." Usually we talked about the baby as just his brother; I worried Ben would think it was strange to be reminded that he was the father of my baby. But now it seemed to excite him.
"I can't believe I used to be in here," he said, continuing to explore my stomach.
"Me neither," I smiled. Under my hand, my tummy rippled, and I showed Ben the spot. "He's awake."
Ben felt the kicks for a moment, then leaned over and kissed my stomach. After a few kisses he returned his attention to my nipples. Above the driving rain I could hear the wet sound of his lips on me, and the groans and grunts that came from my mouth.
I felt hot, restricted in my clothes, but I didn't dare take anything else off. Ben tugged at the stretchy waistband of my maternity pants, and I stopped him. "Baby, wait till we get home."
"I want you," he said breathlessly.
"I want you too, Ben," I responded. "But even if nobody sees us, there's no way to get you inside me. There isn't enough room in here." My car wasn't tiny, but it didn't have the room for a six-foot-tall man and a very pregnant woman to have sex.
"I can't wait," he said, and undid his belt. He lifted his butt off the seat and before I knew it his pants and underwear were at his ankles. He was more than hard: throbbing, twitching. Angry veins stood out in his shaft. He tried to climb into the front seat with me and I pushed him back.
"Get my purse," I told him. "It's in the backseat."
He was confused, but as always he did what he was told. He handed me my bag and I found a plastic bottle inside.
"Cocoa butter," I said. "I use it for stretch marks, a lot of good that's doing."
"You want me to rub it on you?" He asked, looking me over, ogling my bare belly and exposed nipples.
"No," I said, squirting some into my palm. I rubbed my hands together to warm it up. Then I grabbed Ben's penis with my greasy fingers.
"Oh!" He cried, seeming surprised. I smirked and started to rub him up and down. His hardness felt amazing in my hand. Rigid as steel, but slippery with the lotion.
"I can't believe you're still this hot for me," I told him. "I thought I'd be too big and fat for you now." And that was true. I'd worried about the way Ben would see me; I was no longer in that nauseous first trimester and I'd packed on the pounds everywhere. And it wasn't just weight. How many teenage boys were attracted to women who were seven months pregnant?
"You're beautiful, Mom," he panted as I made my hand into a fist and caressed him slowly with it, feeling him buck his hips. "You're still beautiful. I can't believe you're... having my baby..."
"Okay, so I'm beautiful," I teased. "But am I sexy?"
Ben was staring at me, or more specifically my breasts. "Yes!" he gasped. "You're so sexy... you're so hot... just look at you!"
The rain hadn't let up. I took a glance around and kept jerking off my son. "You look at me," I said. "Just keep looking, Ben. Look at my breasts."
With my free hand, still slick with cocoa butter, I rubbed my nipple. Ben whimpered.
"You like how big they're getting?" I asked in what I hoped was a sexy whisper. "They're going to get even bigger. When they fill up with milk."
He groaned, his eyes fixated on my nipples. I touched the other one, making them both shiny.
"You want to drink my milk, Ben? Like when you were a baby?" I didn't know where this was coming from. The extent of my dirty-talk abilities, even with Ben, had been variations of "yes" and "harder" and "oh my God." But I could see that it was working him up. He writhed around in the seat, thrusting up into my hand.
"Yes," he panted.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, I want to drink your milk."
He groaned with frustration when I took my hand away, but it was just to reapply the cocoa butter. "Be patient, baby," I told him, and grasped his penis.
He made all sorts of funny little sounds. I started to go faster. "If you're a good boy and get good grades at school, you can have some milk," I found myself saying. It sounded ridiculous. But Ben clenched his teeth in sweet agony.
"Okay, Mom," he panted. "I'll do it. I'll be good."
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a pair of headlights, approaching through the rain. My stomach lurched.
"Baby, come for me," I told Ben. "You gotta do it now. Look at my boobs." I went faster and faster, squeezed him so hard it must have hurt. Ben did as he was told, got an eyeful of my chest, and roared with pleasure.
I hadn't thought to aim it. Ben shot his load all over the dashboard, over his shirt, and onto the arm of my sweater before I got it under control. The headlights, thankfully, were moving farther away. Parking at the other side of the lot.
Ben sputtered and gasped his way through his orgasm, then slumped into his seat. "Oh my God..." I reached over his nearly-comatose form to get some napkins out of the glove compartment.
"Clean yourself up, baby," I told him, wiping a dribble of spunk off my new sweater. "Let's get you home." I closed my bra flaps, pulled down my sweater, and started the car.
By the time we got home, he had recovered. We dashed through the rain to get inside, locked the door behind us, and stripped off our wet clothes. Ben pinched my big butt as he followed me up the stairs, making me squeal. When we got to my bedroom he moved to bend me over but I stopped him.
"Get on the bed," I told my son, and he complied. His hardness stuck straight up as he waited for me to climb up and mount him.
"I'm not too heavy for you, am I?" I asked as I straddled him. His naked body looked so skinny next to mine. I was the heaviest I'd ever been but the way he looked at me made me feel sexy. Powerful. Full of life.
"No way," Ben smiled.
I leaned down, squishing my belly between us, so I could kiss him. Then I sat on his penis and swallowed it all up inside me.
"God damn it," I hissed. "I missed this."
Ben laughed. "Mom, I never hear you swear."
I looked down at him, not moving just yet, just savoring the feeling of him inside my body. "Fuck me, Ben," I whispered.
He did as he was told. As rain hammered the windows he thrust up into me again and again, bouncing my heavy body on his lap. My breasts flopped up and down with our movement; my belly rose and fell. This wasn't as easy as it used to be; I got sweaty and out of breath quickly, and my back began to throb. I reminded myself to ask Ben for that massage later.
Even though he'd just had an orgasm, Ben didn't last long. After a few minutes his eyes rolled back and he slammed his penis deep into me, filling me with his seed. That was another thing I'd missed.
"Welcome home, baby," I said after he'd helped me climb off him and lay beside him, planting a kiss on his cheek.
"It's good to be back," he wheezed. He looked pretty spent, but he put his hand between my legs and found my wet, swollen pussy, overflowing with his seed. Almost absentmindedly he put two fingers to my clit and rubbed in tight circles, using the sounds I made to find the right place and speed.
My gasps got louder and became grunts... then a long scream that I tried to muffle with my hand. I didn't want the neighbors to think I was in labor.
I shivered with orgasmic aftershocks for a while after. My son and I lay side by side, catching our breath, warm and happy, sneaking glances at each other until the rain lulled us to sleep.
The rest of the weekend was more of the same. The rain didn't let up so we had to entertain ourselves indoors. We hardly left my bed except to eat, and I got ravenously hungry from all the cardio we were doing. Sex wasn't as easy as it was during the second trimester, and I was more uncomfortable, but I still wanted to take advantage of every minute Ben was home. I even taught him to use my vibrator to get me off, something he became skilled at quickly.
The highlight of it all might have actually been that long-promised massage. I showered and Ben knelt me down against the bed after, rubbing my soft clean skin all over with cocoa butter. He went as hard as I wanted him to, relieving the tension in my shoulders (aching from carrying my breasts), my back (aching from carrying my belly) and my feet (aching from carrying all of me.)
When he turned me over he rubbed cocoa butter into my breasts and belly, and my relaxation turned back to excitement. I returned the favor by lotioning my hands up and massaging Ben's shoulders and back and chest and thighs, teasing and teasing until I got my hands on his penis and tugged on it until it exploded all over my shiny boobs and stomach.
Of course the weekend was over before I knew it. Soon I had Ben packed up in the car with his freshly-done laundry. We were both sore and spent as we drove to the bus stop. I was sad to send him back, but more confident that he'd come home for more before long. We didn't talk about when he'd return, but I knew it would be soon. Maybe next weekend, even.
Which is why it was so strange that, not long after returning to school, Ben became hard to pin down. We had a nice normal conversation a few days after our weekend ended, but then a few of my calls went unanswered. His text replies, too, were sporadic.
I would be able to get him on the phone for a few minutes at a time, and he always said everything was fine, he was just busy with schoolwork. He dodged my questions about him coming home. September became October and I started my eighth month of pregnancy before he said he'd come back.
"That's great news," I told him. I was sitting in front of the TV, stroking my belly and snacking on sour candy. "I can't wait to see you. Plus, like I texted you, I got the crib delivered and I'm worried I'll throw my back out if I try to put it together myself."
"I'll help you with that, Mom. No problem." That was my sweet, helpful Ben. Back at last.
"Would that Saturday morning bus still work for you?" I asked. "Or would you rather come down Friday night?"
There was a pause. "Can I get back to you about that?"
"Sure, honey. I know things are hectic for you right now."
"Okay. And, uh, could you get an extra ticket? I mean, can I bring a friend with me?"
"Of course," I said, a little disappointed that I wouldn't have him all to myself this time. "Who are you bringing? Ryan? Nick?" He'd told me enough about his new friends for me to be familiar with some of them.
Another silence, this one longer. I realized what was happening before Ben said it. He'd hesitated like this as a kid, when he was afraid to tell me something that might get him in trouble.
"Uh, her name is Kayla. I don't know if I've told you about her."
------X------
"Just sit back and relax, baby," I told my son as I climbed on top of him. "This way I can be in control, and maybe you'll last longer." Ben smiled up at me, hypnotized by my wobbling breasts. I gently took his hard penis in my hand and guided it to my opening. He squirmed in pleasure, waiting at my entrance. "Ready?"
"Yeah," he panted. His hips bucked impatiently. I lowered myself onto him, taking him in inch by inch. Together we hissed in pleasure.
It was a chilly March evening, and Ben and I had only been having sex for a few weeks, trying to make a baby. It was still a novelty, kind of awkward but exciting and new. Ben usually came within about a minute of entering me, and we'd been working on his stamina. I suggested we try it with me on top, and he seemed to be liking it so far.
"Oh God," he moaned, grabbing my hips. "I think it's even better this way." I was rocking slowly and deliberately on top of him, trying to make it last.
"Good," I smiled. "You don't need to thrust. Just let me do the work, and let me know when you're close."
Ben smirked up at me, red-faced. "I'm close already."
I laughed. "That's okay. We'll just pause. Play with my boobs a little." I slowed, almost to a stop. Shifting my weight back and forth just enough to keep Ben hard.
He reached up and grasped my pendulous breasts, gently teasing my nipples the way I'd showed him. He was in heaven. Just a few weeks ago he'd been a virgin; he'd admitted to me he'd never even kissed a girl. Now he was getting laid almost every night. We might have just been trying to give me the second child I'd always wanted, but Ben's excitement always turned me on.
I started moving a little faster, just so I could watch his expression change. He writhed around under me, pinned down by my weight. "Oh God... oh, Mom..." he whined, and I felt him thrusting up into me, unable to contain his excitement. I positioned myself so I could feel his hardness against my clit and I groaned too.
"Just remember, baby..." I whispered. "Nice and slow..." But Ben's animal instincts were taking over. He grasped at me, squeezing my breasts, my hips. He slammed his penis up into me.
"Oh God. Oh God!" He cried, and despite my best efforts he erupted inside me, filling me with his warmth. I watched over him lovingly as he rode out the explosive sensation, rolling around like a man possessed. When it was over, he slumped back into the pillow, and looked up with embarrassment.
"Sorry," he muttered. "It just felt too good."
"It's okay," I told him. I could still feel him twitching inside me. "We'll keep practicing. I'm glad it felt good." I groaned as I rolled off him and laid down, elevating my hips, trying to keep his seed inside. "Besides, you did what you needed to do." I patted my stomach, praying this healthy young man's sperm would find my egg.
Ben cuddled up to me, holding me in his arms, his head on my breast. He kissed my cheek, then went for my lips. "I love you, Mom," he sighed.
"I love you too, sweetie," I told him. He kept kissing me.
"I want to keep doing this. Every night," he gushed. "It feels so good... and I love you so much... I never want to stop..."
I murmured appreciatively, but inside I was worried. Maybe the novelty of our sexual encounters would wear off, but right now it seemed like Ben just kept getting more and more excited and more and more attached. I loved him dearly and I was having fun too, but I wanted him to be able to go off to college and have a normal life.
"You'll be able to get cuter girls than me at college," I told him. Ben's face fell.
"You're beautiful, Mom."
"Thank you," I smiled. "But don't you want to be with girls your own age?"
"Being with you feels amazing. Why would I want anyone else?"
My tone changed. Enough with the flirting. "Ben, I mean it. I want you to go out and date girls and have a great social life. It's great that you're helping me have a baby, but I don't want you feeling tied down by me, okay?"
Ben sighed. I tried to pump him up.
"What about Emma?" I asked. Emma was the cute girl in his friend group I knew he had a crush on. "You're getting pretty good in bed. You could show her a good time."
"Mom!" Ben turned beet-red. Soon we were laughing together, cuddling up under the blanket naked like it was the most normal thing in the world.
A lot had changed since then. It was October and I was in bed alone-- or as alone as I could get with Ben's baby rolling around inside me. I was 33 weeks pregnant, well into my third trimester. My pregnancy insomnia had gotten worse, and I was up at three in the morning, trying to find Ben's girlfriend on Facebook.
During our phone conversation earlier in the night, Ben had assured me that Kayla wasn't his girlfriend. They'd only been "hanging out" for a few weeks. It had just happened. I told him I was happy for him, and I was, but that didn't change the fact that I'd fallen in love with him. I was jealous.
So I was scrolling Facebook in the middle of the night, frustrated I couldn't find this girl and compare her to myself. I wanted to know what I was in for before she and Ben came to visit. I hardly felt my prettiest, laying unwashed in bed, wearing one of Ben's old XXL t-shirts over my enormous belly, every part of my body swollen and aching. I felt old and fat and unloved, and I just wanted my son all to myself.
I was still feeling sorry for myself by the time Friday rolled around and I went to the bus stop after work, waiting for Ben and Kayla. I thought I looked decent as I leaned against my car. I'd gained sixty pounds since I got pregnant, but I had just bought some new work-friendly clothes to see me through to the start of my maternity leave.
My blue blouse hugged my belly and my chest but wasn't too tight, and I'd found a nice dark skirt with an elastic waist. I wore leggings underneath to fight the cold, and hugged my jacket around me-- it was old, and didn't quite close over my stomach. I had butterflies as I waited, and it wasn't just my new son kicking me in the ribs.
The bus arrived. Ben stepped off first, looking scruffier than ever, his new beard overgrown. The girl behind him had to be Kayla. I sighed when I saw how cute she was. Not a model by any means, but young with a sweet, friendly face and long dirty-blonde hair under a knit cap. I couldn't get a look at her body under her coat, but I knew she was smaller than me.
She lit up when she saw me; in fact she noticed me before Ben did. As she approached I noticed she had a gift bag in her hand. "Hey!" she called out. "You must be Mrs. Marshall!"
"What gave me away?" I laughed, touching my very conspicuous belly. I had six weeks to go, but as strangers reminded me every day, I looked ready to pop.
Kayla hugged me, not something I'd expected. "I'm Kayla," she said. "It's nice to meet you! I've heard all about you!"
"And I haven't heard too much about you," I said with a smirk. "Ben's been keeping you a secret."
She laughed as Ben showed up, carrying both of their bags. "Hey, sweetie," I said. He put down the bags and gave me a half-assed hug, squishing my belly. His baby squirmed inside me.
"Hey, Mom," he said. "Is the back unlocked?"
I nodded and he loaded the luggage into my car. Kayla pushed the gift bag into my hands. "I wanted to get you something for the baby," she said. "Thanks for letting me crash."
"Oh, you didn't have to," I said as I opened it. Inside was a gorgeous blue blanket. I took it out and examined it. "Oh my God, it's so soft!"
Kayla smiled. "My cousin makes them."
"Thank you so much," I said, stroking the blanket and imagining my new baby wrapped up in it.
I was annoyed, because I wanted to hate Kayla. I wanted her to be rude, not good enough for my son, but she was perfectly sweet. I wanted her to be vapid but she was a chemistry major and seemed pretty sharp. She chattered with me about my pregnancy all the way home, seeming genuinely interested.
I was also annoyed because the effort she was putting into getting along with me probably meant she was very invested in Ben. I saw the way she looked at him, the little affectionate touches she gave him, the sweetly teasing tone in her voice when she mentioned him. My son himself was harder to gauge. He was quiet, and seemed a bit uncomfortable.
That's not to say he was being a jerk. He was just polite, which was something he hadn't been towards me in a while. Nice, but distant. Maybe he just didn't know how to act around me anymore. It seemed like he thought if we were too affectionate it would be suspicious.
When we got home I watched Kayla take off her coat. She was average-sized, not skinny, but next to me she looked like a chiseled Greek statue. I glared jealously at her small, perky breasts, her slim thighs, her flat stomach. Ben had made me feel beautiful through my pregnancy, loving on all my curves and soft parts, but was this really what he wanted?
Kayla didn't catch me checking her out, but Ben did. He shot me a look, then went over to Kayla and gave her a kiss.
"I'm going to change into something more comfortable, then I'll get dinner started," I announced. I'd told the kids on the way home that they deserved a home-cooked meal after months of dining hall food. They went to sit in the living room while I lumbered upstairs.
In my bedroom I stripped out of my clothes, remembering the time a few months ago when, overwhelmed with hormones, I'd come home early and given Ben a blowjob while still dressed for work. It made me happy to remember how exciting that'd been for the both of us, how surprised and overwhelmed he was, how well I'd been able to pleasure him.
I looked at myself in the mirror, wearing just my bra and maternity panties. I'd grown in the month since Ben had saw me last, and was really approaching the "big as a house" stage. My stomach, full of Ben's child, was huge and round and tight, ringed with stretchmarks, my bellybutton pulled flat. My breasts had swollen to E-cups, and were beginning to leak a little milk. My hips were wide, my thighs thick. Everything jiggled when I moved.
Part of me thought I looked disgusting in the mirror. The belly looked silly on me; I was too old to be pregnant. Even once I had the baby I would be huge. Kayla's skin wasn't marred by wrinkles; she didn't have gray in her hair.
But the other part of me remembered that afternoon not so long ago when I'd knelt in front of my son and sent him to heaven. I remembered the last time he'd come to visit, when he hadn't been able to wait until we got home to undress me, and I'd shown him my breasts in the car and jerked him off.
I was still sexy. I'd been sexy when Ben first enthusiastically climbed on top of me, and I was sexy with his baby in my womb. I didn't want to interfere with my son's new relationship, but maybe it wouldn't hurt to give him a little reminder.
I changed into a maternity tank top that'd worked well up until last month. Now it showed too much cleavage and clung tight to my pregnant shape. Next I struggled into a pair of soft leggings that hugged my big butt and left little to the imagination. I put on a cardigan for the appearance of modesty, but I was still showing off my body plenty.
I didn't need to waddle through the living room on my way to the kitchen, but I did. Ben and Kayla looked up from where they were cuddling on the couch. Ben looked white, seeing how much of myself I was exposing. Kayla just smiled.
"Are you sure I can't help you in the kitchen, Mrs. Marshall?"
"No, you guys relax," I said with a big smile, turning to them, showing off all my angles. "It'll be ready in 45 minutes."
As I shuffled out, I desperately wanted to look over my shoulder, to see if Ben snuck a glance at my wide swinging hips and jiggling ass. It was fun to imagine it, and I thought about what might be going through his head as I got dinner started.
He came into the kitchen not long after and began to set the table. I could feel his eyes on me. My body tingled. "Let me get that for you, Mom," he said as I struggled to lift the chicken out of the oven. Once he was close to me, he whispered, "don't you think you're showing a little too much?"
"I'm just trying to be comfortable," I whispered back innocently. "Did Kayla complain?"
"No, but..." Ben looked me over, his glance lingering on my cleavage.
I watched him ogle me. "But what?"
At that moment Kayla appeared and Ben went red. The two of them finished setting the table while I plated our meal.
It was an interesting dinner. We made chitchat, Kayla laying on the praise for my simple cooking and telling me I was brave to have another baby alone at my age. Ben seemed uncomfortable with the topic of my pregnancy and kept trying to change the subject. I felt both pairs of eyes on me and my revealing outfit.
Ben's sneaky glances were lustful while Kayla looked at my body with what seemed like both fascination and horror. I looked at Kayla's chest and wondered if Ben missed my big heavy breasts. I wondered if Kayla worried that someday she'd look like me. She was affectionate with Ben through dinner, resting her hand on his knee, touching his shoulder, at one point stroking his beard.
She was making me jealous, and my mind dreamt up scenarios where I could get Ben alone this weekend. How would he act without her around? I hadn't imagined those glances at my cleavage. If Ben wasn't still attracted to me, he wouldn't be acting so weird.
"When are you guys heading out?" I asked as we finished eating. I knew they'd made plans to meet up with some of Ben's hometown friends.
"We should probably go now," Ben said, checking the time.
"There's no rush," Kayla said. "Let me do the dishes, Mrs. Marshall. That dinner was so great."
"Don't worry about it," I told her, pushing my chair back and patting my stomach. It had swelled even further as I ate, and my tank top rode up, exposing a few inches of stretched bare skin. "I think the baby liked that dinner almost as much as you did, Kayla."
She stared at my stomach. "Is he kicking?"
"He always does after I eat," I smiled. "Want to feel?"
Kayla approached me and put her hand on my tummy. I looked at Ben, who seemed anxious. "His feet are over here," I said, taking Kayla's hand and guiding it to my ribs, right below my breast.
She giggled when she felt her boyfriend's baby move in my womb. "That's so cool! Ben, come feel!"
Ben hesitated, but he joined her. I sat back in my chair and enjoyed the feeling of their hands on me.
"I can't believe you used to be in there," Kayla said to Ben, and he blushed.
"Me neither," I said. "And I never got this fat when I had Ben."
"You look great, Mrs. Marshall," Kayla told me. "You're glowing."
"Thanks, Kayla. It's nice to hear that." I eyed Ben, as if urging him to remember all the times he'd told me I was beautiful-- and sexy-- in the months since we'd started making love.
"Doesn't she look great?" Kayla asked Ben.
"Yeah," my son stammered. "You look great, Mom."
Kayla did insist on doing the dishes, while Ben fretted about being late to see his friends. I relaxed on the couch for a while, then waddled back to the kitchen. Kayla was in there alone, working on the pots and pans.
"I can finish that, honey," I said. "You guys go meet your friends."
Kayla eyed me, and finished up the pot in her hands. "Mrs. Marshall, can I ask you something?"
My heart skipped a beat. Had she picked up on something? Had Ben told her something? He was nowhere to be seen. She wanted to ask this in private. I just nodded.
"Is it okay if I stay in Ben's room? I'll sleep on the couch if you rather I didn't."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Of course," I smiled. "I'm not that old-fashioned, don't worry."
"Thank you," Kayla replied.
I lowered my voice. "Just be careful, okay? Use protection if you fool around. You don't want to end up like me." I poked at my belly, and Kayla laughed.
Soon they were gone and I had the rest of the evening to myself, but I was wiped and all I could do was go to bed.
While I laid on my side, my body awkwardly propped up with half a dozen pillows, I couldn't help wondering if Ben would actually have sex with his girlfriend in my house. Surely he could keep it in his pants for a few days, right? He wouldn't do that to me?
I had my answer before long. I was a light sleeper these days, and though Ben and Kayla tried to be quiet as they came home around one in the morning, I heard them laughing together. My mood soured: they'd been out late having fun, while I was alone in bed, dying of heartburn and getting headbutted in the bladder.
I heard muffled voices as they settled in Ben's room, and for a moment it seemed like they were going to sleep, but then the giggling picked up again. Ben's room wasn't right next to mine, but it was close enough I could hear one of them shush the other... and not long after, a gasp of pleasure.
I laid there in bed, eyes open, unbelieving. I'm sure they thought I was asleep, though I'd told Ben about how bad my pregnancy insomnia was. I was embarrassed to overhear the rhythmic creaking of Ben's bed, the sound of his headboard hitting the wall. And even more embarrassed when I realized, of course, I had to pee.
By this point in my pregnancy I was getting up at least twice a night to use the bathroom. But I didn't want Ben and Kayla knowing I could hear them, so I had to hold it. The pressure in my bladder grew as I waited for it to stop... imagining Ben on top of her, thrusting in and out... using the moves I'd taught him to delay his own orgasm...
I'd put my hands in my underwear without even realizing it. I was all hot and bothered listening to my son have sex. I had him first, I thought to myself, frustratedly playing with my clit. I taught him everything he knew. Did Kayla think he was a virgin when they met? Did she appreciate everything I'd shown him how to do?
When Ben and I had first started he could only last a minute or so at a time. This seemed to be going on forever. My breathing got shallow and fast as Ben's bed kept creaking. I'd made love with him there. I tried to envision him on top of me, bent over my enormous belly, pounding away, trying to make me feel good, but in my mind's eye I kept getting replaced by Kayla.
Sweet little Kayla. I'm sure she had flawless skin, no wrinkles or stretch marks. I bet her pussy was shaved, not like the overgrown jungle I had between my thighs. I bet she had more stamina than the 42-year-old pregnant woman who could barely get up a flight of stairs...
I realized I was masturbating to the thought of the two of them together. Imagining Ben squeezing small firm breasts and sucking little pink nipples and gently pulling dirty-blonde hair. I could hear her breathing. Gasping. Moaning. Ben was doing something right.
For a moment, my ridiculous mind wanted me to sneak down the hallway and try peeking in Ben's door. But my sneaking days were far behind me. I tried to ignore the pressure in my bladder and the stomach-churning sensation of Ben's baby trying to do a somersault in my uterus. I could barely reach around my belly.
I pressed my fingers to my clit as hard as I could, my own hitching breaths filling my ears, threatening to drown out the sounds of Ben and Kayla. My crotch was swollen and sensitive. I imagined Kayla's pussy was petite and pretty, not like mine with its dark, bulging lips and strong fragrance.
Why did it turn me on to think of Ben having sex with her, at the same time that it made me furious?
I heard the escalating grunts I knew all too well: Ben was about to finish. So I pushed myself harder, harder, imagining his skinny body working hard on top of hers, his muscles bulging, sweat dripping down his chest...
I came, more or less at the same time my son did. I couldn't hold back a moan, though I bit my lip as hard as I could. I prayed the kids were too wrapped up in their own fun to notice. My orgasm was intense, rippling through my body, every part of me tightening then relaxing. I felt pleasantly warm as I laid there recovering, though my bladder was throbbing now.
I waited a few minutes, listening to see if they were done. Wasn't Ben going to get her off? The creaking and groaning didn't resume. They were just talking now. Meanwhile, my panties were soaked and my bladder was about to explode.
As slowly as I could I got out of bed, no easy task given my new center of gravity. Then I waddled into the master bathroom, where I had taken my pee test, where Ben had told me I was pregnant. Where we had showered together. I stroked my belly as I relieved myself, trying to calm my restless passenger, and by the time I got back to bed he was asleep.
It was daylight when I was awoken by banging. I couldn't believe they were at it again. It was louder this time, closer....
And then I realized it wasn't sex. Ben and Kayla were up and talking and making some sort of sound, but it was different. I heaved my body out of bed and pulled on some sweatpants, a process that took several minutes. I'd been sleeping in Ben's old t-shirt and the panties I'd soaked in the night.
After another trip to the bathroom I left my room and found Ben and Kayla down the hall.
"We wanted to surprise you!" Kayla said when she saw me. They were in the nursery, putting the crib together. Both of them were unshowered, with mussed hair. For a moment, I saw them again in my mind's eye, naked, Ben on top. I shook myself out of it.
"I think I'm going to keep you two here," I smiled, admiring their work. "I'll get breakfast started while you finish that."
They got the crib done and we ate breakfast. Afterwards Ben and Kayla went back upstairs to shower. I started washing the dishes but got a better idea.
I climbed the steps and listened outside the bathroom door. Over the running water, I could hear Kayla humming. I went to my own room next, where I stood in front of the mirror and squeezed my own breast. I groped myself just the right way until a few drops of milk appeared, soaking through the old t-shirt of Ben's I was wearing. Both my nipples stood at attention, and before long one had a noticeable wet spot around it.
Smiling, I picked the laundry basket off my floor and waddled to Ben's room. I entered without knocking.
"Hey, sweetie, thanks again for your help with the crib," I said. "I'm collecting laundry, do you two have anything to wash?"
Ben stared at me from where he sat in bed. His eyes went straight to my nipples, straight to the wet spot. "Oh, uh... sure." He collected some clothes from the floor. I imagined they'd been thrown there last night, while he and Kayla fooled around.
"You guys have fun last night?" I asked as he tossed the clothes into the basket.
"Yeah, I told you, everyone got along. It was nice."
"I wasn't talking about hanging out with your friends."
Ben looked at me and blushed. "What were you talking about?"
"You know what I mean," I said. "Sounds like you enjoyed yourself."
"Are you mad at me?" Ben asked. "You told me you wanted me to get a girlfriend."
I shook my head. "I know I said that. It's just harder than I thought it would be. I'm jealous," I smirked.
"You know I still love you, Mom," he said. His eyes kept flitting to my chest.
"You use a condom with her, right?" I asked. "I'm going to have one baby to take care of already, that's plenty."
"Um, yeah," he said, turning even redder.
"Good boy," I told him. "It doesn't feel as good with a condom on, does it?"
"Mom!" he whispered, his eyes moving to the hall, waiting for Kayla to reappear.
"And her boobs aren't as big as mine, are they?" I asked. I looked down at my own chest, and acted like I was noticing the milk stain for the first time. "Oh! Would you look at that?"
Ben stared with me, looking very uncomfortable. "Did you, uh, get your milk?"
"I guess I did," I smiled, touching the wet spot. I thought I could hear Ben whimper. I looked down to his pants and saw a noticeable bulge. "Are you interested?"
"Uh...." he looked at the door again. "Mom, why are you doing this?"
"I just miss you," I said, nonchalantly rubbing my breast. "I miss the fun we had. But you only want Kayla, huh?"
"I don't know..." he whined.
I took a step closer to him. "I don't want to interfere with your relationship, Ben. I don't want to make you do anything you're not comfortable with. I just want you to know... if you want her... I'm okay with sharing you."
Ben's eyes went wide as saucers. Out in the hallway, the sound of running water stopped.
"The shower in my bathroom is better," I reminded Ben, and turned to leave. Kayla, wrapped in a towel, was at the door.
"Thanks again for your help with the crib, Kayla," I smiled sweetly. "If you've got any laundry just bring it to my room."
"Sure, Mrs. Marshall," she said, unable to help looking down at my chest as I waddled past her.
I returned to my room and pretended to sort the laundry. I thought Ben wouldn't go for my invitation. But a few minutes later he silently passed me and started the shower in the master bathroom.
I waited a few more moments, humming, busying myself with the laundry. I smiled at Kayla when she left Ben's room and went to the other bathroom to do her hair and makeup. I heard the hair dryer start. I closed my bedroom door.
Ben was in my shower; I could see his form through the frosted glass door. My heart raced as I watched him wash himself.
I slid the shower door back and smiled at my son. "Hey, sweetie," I whispered.
He looked back at me, nervous, excited. I needed a shower too, but I wasn't about to squeeze in there with him. Instead, I took a step back, took a breath, and peeled off my t-shirt.
Under the sound of the water, I heard Ben whimper. My breasts were larger than they'd ever been, hanging low on my stomach. As they prepared to nurse my new son, veins stood out under my skin. My areolae were dark, the size of saucers. I watched Ben look at them. I watched between his legs as his penis hardened. His skin glistened under the falling water.
I lifted one breast, making a show of how heavy it was. Then I ran my thumb over my already stiff nipple. Ben was fully hard in a matter of moments.
I mimed a jerk-off motion to him, and he grasped his penis. His face contorted as he watched me put on a show for him. I played with both my breasts, lifting and bouncing them, then releasing them and letting them sway as I shimmied back and forth. I bent over and let them hang.
The bathroom got steamy, reminding me of our encounter in the car the last time Ben was home. As he stared at my breasts I stared at his penis, watching him play with it, seeing how aroused I could still get him. My insecurities were evaporating. In my belly, my new son kicked and squirmed, sensing my racing heart. I reminded myself that I was carrying Ben's child, and I got wetter than I already was.
I knew what my son was waiting for, and we didn't have much time. I lifted one breast with both hands and massaged it, warming it up. Getting things flowing. Then I moved my attention to my nipple.
It took a couple tries, but soon a dribble of thin, nearly clear fluid leaked from my breast, down onto my big ripe stomach. Not real milk yet, but close enough. Ben shivered, and I thought he'd finish right there. He was jerking himself furiously, red in the face, panting.
I met his eyes and smiled sweetly. Then I lifted my breast, oh so slowly, to show him a new thing I'd discovered and thought he might like. They were big enough now that I could touch my own nipple with my tongue. He saw what was coming and let out a little moan as I extended my tongue, teasingly slowly, touched it to my sensitive brown nipple...
And then I gave him a little wink and left the bathroom. As I closed the door I swore I could hear a whimper of despair. Poor boy, I'd gotten him all worked up. I went back to Mom mode, throwing on a fresh t-shirt and sorting the laundry. When I opened my bedroom door Kayla was still drying her hair.
The game was on. That evening I took Ben and Kayla out to dinner. I picked the same dress I'd worn to Ben's goodbye dinner, back in my second trimester, when it was already a little tight and showed too much of my chest.
I thought I'd shock Ben, but when I came downstairs in it Kayla was also showing off a lot. Her pale pink dress clung to her hips and her narrow waist, showing her to be more shapely than I'd realized. Her breasts, while nowhere near the size of mine, were pushed up to create young, perky cleavage. I figured Ben had encouraged her to dress like that. He sat there in the living room, his hand on her inner thigh, smirking at me.
The two of them sat in the backseat together on the way to dinner, holding each other. I tried to keep up a conversation, but it wasn't happening tonight. Ben kept kissing Kayla and soon they were lost in their own little world, making out while I felt like an ornery taxi driver. I wanted to kick them out.
Kayla's lipstick was smeared by the time we arrived at the restaurant. On the way inside, Ben led her with a hand on her lower back, like a true gentleman, while I waddled behind. He made sure I saw him squeeze her butt.
I'd made the mistake of not specifying a table when I made the reservation, so Ben and Kayla sat on one side of the booth hip to hip while I struggled to squeeze my swollen pregnant body into the other side. Next to the cute, flirty young couple, I looked old and fat and sad. The conversation picked back up, mostly because Kayla was still making an effort to be nice, but I writhed uncomfortably on the bench seat as they touched each other and giggled through the meal.
Twice I had to laboriously remove myself from the booth to shuffle to the bathroom, and twice I returned to find my son's tongue down his girlfriend's throat. The meek, sweet, shy Ben I'd first welcomed into my bed in February was gone. Kayla would blush and apologize when I interrupted them; Ben would just smirk.
The drive home was even worse. The makeout session in the backseat got so hot and heavy that Kayla asked Ben to stop, embarrassed but clearly having fun. She glanced at me when she said he should cool it, and I knew she was taking pity on me. Didn't want to make out in front of Ben's old, lonely, pregnant mom. A few moments later Ben met my eye in the rearview mirror. Winked. My teasing had been returned and then some.
At home I desperately needed to get out of my clothes, and Ben and Kayla had similar thoughts. Ben said he'd meet me downstairs to watch some TV once they'd changed, but it seemed to take a while for them to get new clothes on. They'd only been in Ben's room a few minutes before I could hear giggling from down the hall.
I finished pulling on my robe, the same robe I'd worn the night Ben had first undressed me. I listened: more giggles, then a moan. Then muffled voices. I stepped into the hallway, my weight making the floorboards creak. Slowly I padded past Ben's room, and then I realized: his door was open. Just a crack.
I couldn't help glancing in. I was able to see my son, standing by the foot of his bed, naked except for his bulging underwear. Kayla was spread nude in front of him. She was turned away from me, so I couldn't see her face, but I could see just about everything else.
She was as pretty as I'd feared. Soft, flawless skin. A nearly flat stomach. Breasts that were high and firm and symmetrical even when she was laying down, her little pink nipples right in the middle rather than pointing down at the ground like mine. Her pussy was neatly tucked away, with the tiniest tuft of fur on top.
"Ben, come on. She'll hear us."
"She went downstairs. You heard it."
It had been ages since I'd seen another woman nude, even just a glimpse like this. I was struck by how different her body really was from my own. We were both beautiful, I thought, holding my stomach through the soft robe that barely fit around my middle anymore. Just in different ways. We could each give Ben something different. It didn't mean he didn't love me.
Ben was admiring the girl spread out before him, and then he looked up. Met my eye through the gap in the door. No wink, but there was a flash of knowing between us. And then he knelt by the foot of the bed.
I felt glued to the spot, weighed down by a body twice the size of Kayla's, wanting to watch. But I knew how horrible it would be to be caught. Ben could see me, and if Kayla threw her head back at the right moment, she'd see me too. So I tore myself away just as she scooted down the sheets and spread her legs.
Luckily, they couldn't hear my footsteps on the stairs over her moans. I could hear them clear as day even when I got downstairs and turned the TV on. Last night I'd been disappointed in my son, having heard him climax but not his partner. Be careful what you wish for, I told myself.
Ben and I had done lots of things together, but he'd never used his mouth on me. He had to know it would drive me nuts, sitting down here and thinking about his head between that girl's legs. Even though I'd told him early in our relationship that oral sex felt a little too intimate for us, I'd broken that rule by sucking him off.
I sat on the couch while the TV droned and slipped a hand into my robe, caressing my own sensitive breast until my whole body was warm and tingly. The moans upstairs turned to shrieks. Ben was doing something right. I felt a strange pride, even as jealousy flowed through me.
I thought about sliding a hand down between my legs, but worried when the kids came downstairs they'd be able to smell the sex on me just as badly as I'd smell it on them. I held myself back, sticking to teasing my nipples. Ben would give me my next orgasm, I thought to myself as Kayla reached her own climax upstairs. I just had to find a way to make it happen.
The next morning, as we wrapped up breakfast, I turned to Kayla. "Kayla, I need to borrow Ben for a little while today. Is that alright?"
"Sure," she said. "What for?" Ben shot me a look. This was the first he was hearing of this.
"I need to get a changing table at Target," I told her. "And I can't lift it myself."
"I could come with you! Help pick out more baby stuff!"
I shook my head. "I don't need to bore you with that. I booked you an appointment for a mani-pedi. My treat."
"Really? You're the best, Mrs. Marshall."
I didn't show off too much skin today, opting for a simple, flowy maternity dress with a cardigan for the chill. Kayla had a cute autumn getup but wasn't showing her tits off like the night before. She and Ben sat in the backseat together, his hand on her knee, but there was no fevered makeout session today. I hadn't flashed Ben this morning or teased him with my milk.
Were we back to being a normal family? I didn't think so. I'd thought of nothing but sex all morning. And Ben kept throwing little glances at me. He knew I was up to something.
We dropped Kayla off at the salon and Ben kissed her goodbye. I invited him to the front seat. For a while, we drove in silence.
"So where are we going, Mom?"
"I told you, to Target. I need that changing table."
"Okay," he smiled. "But what else? I know you're up to something."
I drove quickly, weaving through traffic. Kayla's appointment would only last an hour. "What would I be up to, Ben?"
He was confused, and I enjoyed that. It was fun to play with him. "Aren't we going to... you know..."
"I don't know, baby. What do you think we're going to do?"
"Have sex?" he blurted. I smiled.
"Is that what you want?" I asked as I pulled in to the Target parking lot. "It seems like you're having plenty of fun with Kayla."
"You want do, don't you?" Ben said, red in the face. "You've been messing with me all weekend!"
I concentrated on finding a place to park. Luckily there were a couple expectant-mother spots right up front. I pulled in and looked at Ben.
"I want to hear you say you want it," I told him.
"Mom, you know I love you. You know I'm attracted to you." Ben was sputtering, used to me being more gentle with him. I was enjoying my role.
"That isn't what I asked, sweetie," I told him. "I want to be sure I'm not pushing you into anything you don't want. I don't want to interfere with your relationship. So, do you want it, or are we just playing around?"
Ben smiled. "I want it, Mom."
"What do you want?"
"I want to have sex with you."
A pleasant little shiver ran through my hormonal body. "Even though you have a cute young girlfriend?"
"Yes, Mom."
"Even though I'm big and fat and pregnant?"
"Yes, Mom."
"Glad we settled that," I said, turning off the engine. "I've really got to pee, as always. Do you know where the family bathroom is in here?"
"Yeah."
"Good. That's where I'm headed. Wait five minutes once I'm in, then knock twice."
Shock spread across Ben's face, making me smirk. "You mean..."
I didn't give him a chance to ask questions. I opened my door and worked to get my body out of the car, then began to waddle towards the store.
It was crowded on a Sunday afternoon. The most public messing around Ben and I had ever done had been in a car in an empty parking lot. This was a lot different. But I wanted it bad.
My bladder really was aching as I made a beeline for the single-occupancy family restroom. I felt eyes on me as I shuffled through the store; in my eighth month my pregnancy was a public spectacle. I wondered how people would look at me in six weeks when I was full term. I wondered how people would look at me if they knew I was carrying my son's child in my belly.
Luckily the bathroom was unoccupied. I went in, locked the door, and did my business. I hadn't even looked back to see if Ben had left the car. Would he really do this? Come fool around with me in a public bathroom while his girlfriend got her nails done?
Soon I had my answer: two slow knocks at the door. I unlocked it and Ben stepped in, looking as excited and nervous as the first night we made love. "What are we doing, Mom?" He asked.
I locked the door behind him. "We don't have much time. No more teasing."
"Okay," Ben smiled, and reached for my breasts.
I gasped with pleasure. It felt like it had been years since I'd had Ben's hands on me. I had foregone a bra so we could do this easily, and my nipples were instantly hard under the thin soft fabric of my dress.
"They're so huge," Ben whispered, massaging them, lifting them.
"Bigger than Kayla's," I whispered back, and he went red. I planted a kiss on his lips while he groped me, stoking the fire that already burned between my legs. My body had a primal need for his. He was my mate. I had his baby in my womb.
He kissed me back forcefully, squeezing my breasts hard enough that it hurt. I winced, but I loved it. He desired me. He wasn't just doing what Mom told him to. Even with a cute young girlfriend he wanted me. When I wrapped my arms around him I could feel his hardness against my stomach and I moaned.
"You still want me," I breathed into his ear.
"Mmm-hmmm," he murmured back, his fingers tweaking my nipples through my dress.
"You want my tits. You want my milk."
"Yes," he groaned, pinching my nipples.
"I don't want to get this dress wet," I said, pulling back. While he watched, I reached under my neckline and scooped out first one heavy breast, then the other. They hung down low, my nipples pointing down, but they were enormous and my son practically drooled as he looked at them.
"Oh my God," he grunted as he took one of them in both hands. "How big are they?"
"E-cups," I reported, a proud smile on my face. "How big are Kayla's?"
"Mom," he groaned. He was probably feeling guilty.
"Sorry, we don't have to talk about her."
He played with my fat, dark nipple. "B-cups."
"She's very cute."
"You're cute, Mom. You're hot." He was pinching the nipple again, trying to get the milk flowing. I took my other breast in my hands and showed him how.
"Like this," I said, gently massaging my upper breast. I shivered as I felt four hands on my chest at once, Everything was so sensitive. I got a drip of milk first, the wetness shining against my dark nipple under the bright fluorescent lights. Ben stared at it hungrily, then pulled at my other breast until a droplet appeared.
He leaned in and sucked my nipples clean, one after the other. I bit my lip. My hips rocked without me even thinking about it. Ben chose a nipple and sucked gently, coaxing out more thin colostrum. "The real milk will be in after the baby comes," I told him, my voice quavering.
He just kept sucking, his tongue twirling around my nipple, driving me crazy. My breathing got heavy and I stroked his hair. I felt a release of pressure as my milk dribbled into his hot mouth.
Finally he released my nipple and looked up at me, smiling ear to ear. "What do you think?" I asked him.
"I can't believe you're making milk."
"It's because of you," I said, taking one of his hands and moving it to my bloated stomach. "It's for your baby."
He shivered at that, and went back to suckling. With both hands he rubbed the massive expanse of my baby-filled stomach. I knew our son was awake, responding to my excitement, the hormones in my bloodstream. Ben groaned when he felt a kick, the vibration in his mouth tickling my nipple.
I wanted this to last forever, Ben kissing me and sucking my breasts and feeling every curve of my pregnant body, but I knew we didn't have much time. I was praying nobody would knock on the door.
"Ben," I hissed, but he was lost in thought, intoxicated by my breasts and my belly. "Ben!"
He looked up but didn't let my nipple go.
"Fuck me," I ordered him, and that got him moving. He released my breasts, both my nipples huge and wet now. I turned around and grabbed the sink with both hands. I watched myself in the mirror, my engorged tits hanging out, my face flushed. Behind me my son lifted my dress and made a surprised sound when he found I wasn't wearing any underwear.
I wiggled my butt at him, teasing him. My hips were wider than ever as I prepared for birth, and I knew my butt had gotten huge. I had stretchmarks on my ass. I spread my legs and bent down.
In the mirror, I watched Ben marvel at my body, then undo his belt. I licked my lips when he took his dick out. It was hard. Ready for me. Kayla might have been younger, smaller, more agile than me, but I bet she'd never fucked him in a public bathroom.
I felt him against me. He hissed with appreciation. "You're so wet," he whispered. I knew I was. I'd been hot and wet for him all day. His eyes met mine in the mirror.
"Do it," I urged, and he pushed into me.
It was a struggle to keep quiet. Ben's penis spread me open, filled me. I was so swollen down there it felt like he was twice as big. I could see from his expression in the mirror that it was intense for him too. He scrunched his face up as he started to thrust, like he was resisting his orgasm already. Like when we first started.
The sound of our breathing filled the little bathroom. We tried our best but we couldn't hold back our moans, our grunts. My toes curled in my shoes. I'd never done anything this nasty. I looked at my own reflection, my swollen tits bouncing with each thrust, my hair mussed, my baby bump hanging low. I was nasty. Disgusting in the best way. Fucking my son in public. Carrying his child. Letting him taste my milk.
I'd started the year as a nice normal mom. What had happened. How had I ended up here? Sometimes it felt like I wasn't in control. The feeling I got as Ben filled me up was so powerful I just had to follow it.
"Harder," I told him, and he picked up the pace. Our bodies made a sound as they smacked together over and over. I could feel his balls slapping against my mound, teasing my clit. Underneath me, Ben's son squirmed and kicked at my ribs. I'd never felt so full. My body felt huge, and with each thrust I imagined Ben somehow making me bigger. It felt powerful. I had my own gravity, pulling my son into me. Away from that skinny young girl.
He had his hands on my hips, shoving himself in as deep as he could, but I wanted him deeper. I pushed my butt back into him and he let out a real moan, a loud one. He took a hand off me and clapped it to his mouth. I laughed.
He slowed down and I warned him, shaking my head. He'd been teasing me all weekend. He'd been away from me for over a month. I wanted what I wanted.
So Ben sped up, slamming into me as hard and as fast as he could. I almost lost my grip on the sink but luckily didn't fall forward. I watched him intently in the mirror and told myself I needed to put a big mirror up in my bedroom just for this. It was so unusual to be able to see him like this, under the bright lights, his clothes on.
My back felt tight, threatening to spasm as it held up my weight. My legs were weak beneath me. As much as I wanted this to go on all day, it wasn't sustainable. I looked up and met my son's eye in the mirror.
"Are you close?"
"Yes," he panted, seeming frantic. Like he'd been fighting his orgasm since the second he entered me.
"Do it," I told him. "Come for me."
It didn't take much more than that. Ben grasped my hips and went at me with abandon, making me squeal with pleasure. I worried I'd rip the sink right off the wall, but it held. My son's expression changed as we pushed him past the point of no return. He at least had the peace of mind not to scream or bellow, instead emitting a series of low growls as he emptied his balls into my body.
Warmth spread through me as he came. The feeling of his orgasm, the knowledge that his sperm was swimming up into me, never stopped exciting me. I was close to my own orgasm, but with my belly in the way I couldn't reach my clit. I let Ben finish, his strokes finally slowing until he came to a halt. We were out of breath but I needed to keep up the momentum.
I pulled away from him and he stepped back, his penis exiting me with an audible pop. His seed dribbled out of me onto the floor. "Finish me," I commanded. "I'm so close." I turned around, leaning against the sink, leaning back so my belly was in the air and he could reach under.
He was still twitching and shivering from his own climax as he dutifully reached under my heavy stomach and found my swollen pussy. I could smell it in the little bathroom. Our scents mixed together. He touched my clit with two fingers and started making circles.
I watched him work, face to face this time. I watched his softening penis, still hanging out of his pants. I thought about his baby inside me. I thought about his girlfriend waiting for our return. I finished in no time.
Ben had to press his other hand to my mouth to stop me from alerting the whole store to my orgasm. I made a mental note that I liked it. I'd ask him to do that again. I moaned and groaned against his fingers as an outrageously powerful pleasure shook my whole body. My legs wobbled and Ben had no more hands to catch me. Luckily there was no stopping my climax, and it kept going as he removed his hands and took me by the shoulders, guiding me down onto the toilet.
"Jesus Christ," I panted as I recovered. "Let's not go another month without doing that, okay?"
"Okay," he smiled, and I knew he meant it. He'd missed this just as much as I had.
It took a few minutes for us to get our bearings, to wipe Ben's mess off the floor, to put our parts away. I looked in the mirror, sure whoever saw me would know I was freshly fucked. I was glowing, but not because of the pregnancy.
"You leave first, baby. I'll meet you in the baby section," I told him.
"What?"
"We still need that changing table. We gotta rush."
Ben was in a daze. We left the bathroom one at a time, finding nobody waiting for it. He carried the heavy changing table through the store and we checked out, and the whole time he had a dumb smile on his face. I could feel the love between us, the connection. He was mine.
"I mean it, Ben, I'm not trying to break up your relationship," I told him once we'd loaded the changing table into the car and started the engine. "If Kayla makes you happy, that's great. Don't think of it as cheating, okay? Think of it as helping your mom."
Ben still had that grin on his face. He put his hand over my knee. "You know I love you, Mom. I'm always going to be here for you. Whatever you need."
If we hadn't been in the busy parking lot I would have kissed him on the lips and started the whole thing over again. But we needed to pick up Kayla.
Ben kissed her when we got back to the salon, and told her she was beautiful with her new nails, but it didn't bother me. I was proud that he was a good, loving partner. Things seemed normal as the afternoon passed and we got lunch and made chitchat and before I knew it it was time to drive them back to the bus stop.
Kayla hugged me and told me it'd been great to meet me. I told her the same, and I thought about her boyfriend pumping into me from behind. I thought about how I still had his seed inside my body. I thought about that dumb smile he couldn't get off his face. And as they got onto the bus, hand in hand, I felt great.
Ben would be back. I drove home as fast as I could so I could fantasize about it.