Dreams of Maternity Pt. 20

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Baby Shower

Last night, I was a pregnant woman once again, deep into my third trimester. I was in a large, upper-middle class living room decorated in pastel colours and overflowing with women and gift boxes. It was a baby shower if I’d ever seen one. One of what I guessed were my friends pulled out a tape measure. 

“Write down your guesses, ladies!” Everyone jotted down their name and a number of centimeters estimating my belly’s girth, placing their tiny pieces of paper in a glass bowl. My friend came to me with the tape measure; I stood up and she carefully wrapped it around my belly to take the measurement, the bump contact exciting me ever so slightly. “42 inches! Anyone write down 42?!” Four guests raised their hands: not the most difficult game, evidently. And I don’t really understand what purpose the bowl had served, but whatever: my dreams are far from perfectly logical.

“Let’s get painting!” the same friend shouted (she seemed to be running this thing). I was wearing a dress and quickly realized it probably wasn’t appropriate to pull it up over my panties to bare my bump. I excused myself and donned a tight short-sleeved maternity top and khakis. All the ladies seemed ready with their paint and paintbrushes, so I rolled up my shirt to rest just below my bosom and expose my entire belly. They took turns painting, one contributing a peace sign, one the symbol for female (guess I’m having a girl in this one!), a pink heart, etc.

I delighted in them firmly holding my bump to keep it still as they painted. Delighted enough that I was glad for the bathroom break I needed just afterwards: I peed as I so frequently had to, of course, but I also quickly rubbed one out. A baby shower was quite the turn-on for this secret pregnancy fetishist. I was way into the amount of attention my belly (and pregnancy in general) was receiving. There was an ongoing game of guessing how many times I’d pee during the party, and I think someone with a higher guess was going to win that: I’d be jerking off frequently. It was MY dream after all, and there were sure to be many more bump-focused activities, even if they didn’t conform to real baby shower practices at all. My dream, my party, my bump to be worshipped.

The next activity, and probably all those that followed, were completely my own mind’s inventions, having little basis in any reality I knew of. First, everyone lifted my bump up in their hands and guessed its weight. Every single person got their hands on me, and I was in heaven. I don’t really know how one weighs their bump as such, but the lady in charge somehow knew the weight and was thus able to crown a winner. She said it was 25 pounds, I believe, which seemed a bit heavy to me (in a sexy way, over-encumbered way).

“Find the baby!” my friend yelled, and again every pair of hands in the place got a turn. They first examined my bare bump visually, then pressed on me where they thought the baby was currently positioned. A few nailed it, more didn’t, but every one of them gawked at and pushed in on my bump, two forms of attention I found highly arousing. Another trip to the bathroom followed, of course.

They guessed my areolas’ widths, nipples’ lengths, and the colors of them all for the next game. Obviously my own invention: far too awkward for a real-life baby shower. Once they’d all registered their guesses, I pulled my top off entirely and removed my bra without giving it a second thought. My friend-in-charge measured and examined my breasts thoroughly, manhandling them extensively. Magnificent. I had to rub two out after this activity.

Finally we got to gifts, and I woke myself up on purpose rather than undergo that particular form of boredom. Why couldn’t we have just done more with my tits?

The görükle escort Registry

A pregnant woman again, this time probably midway into my second trimester, last night’s dream had me in a Babies-R-Us-type store. I was there to make a gift registry, complete with one of those scanning guns in my hand. Wandering around their various baby-centric departments, I found myself rather bored. I didn’t want baby seats, baby toys, baby accessories of any kind: selfish or not, I wanted some things just for me. Finally, I found the maternity lingerie and sex toys section. I knew this was an invention of my dreaming mind, but I was just happy this dream was doing right by my horny self.

There was a strap-on the harness of which placed the dildo right at your navel, exactly where my bump protruded most. Added to registry, obviously. Lingerie that covered breasts and crotch while completely baring and somehow drawing the eye to the belly? Added. Bumpjob lubricant, whatever that was? Added. Crotchless maternity leggings? Added. Crotchless maternity formal dress? Added. Electric nipple clamps that automatically shoot your milk out for you? Added.

I couldn’t wait for this baby shower; I’d definitely stay for the gifts this time.

The Toy

I rushed home once I found it, eager to show my wife and try it out with her. It sounded too good to be true, sort of analogous to spending one’s cow on magic beans. A mysterious man had sold me a dildo that would purportedly create temporary pregnancies when inserted, usable on both women and men. Too good to be true, I knew, but I just had to try. I’d always wanted to be pregnant but was, of course, disqualified by my maleness. And, since her three pregnancies ended several years ago and we’d greatly enjoyed those times, my wife would be able to experience pregnancy just for sexy little periods and without the usual result of another mouth to feed. A far-fetched proposition, but what if it worked?!

My wife was dubious, and I could hardly blame her. She wouldn’t put it in herself, nervous that it would not only fail to do what the seller had promised but might do something harmful. I was just too curious not to try it, though, so I stripped, we lubed it up really thoroughly and got it in my ass. We got it three inches or so in, and BAM: full-term baby bump on me. Both my wife and I were utterly speechless, rubbing my hairy bare belly in disbelief. It was firm and heavy, better than I’d ever even fantasized. The wife was extremely turned on, getting to her knees and blowing me after rubbing for about a minute. I kept my hands on my bump during the whole blowjob, enjoying the hell out of this incredible development.

Once she swallowed my load, she was ready for her turn. We thoroughly cleaned the toy, then got it in her. BAM: it was just like her full-term look during her biologically-realistic pregnancies, which, of course, turned me on once more in a major way. We both rubbed away, and I ate her out (damned refractory period keeping my dick out of her!).

We spent about six straight hours alternating pregnancies between us, cumming who knows how many times each. This dildo was instantly my most prized possession. There’s a lesson here: buy those magic beans. Sure, they probably won’t work, but if they do? Goddamn.

Porn

I was a 22-year-old woman, pregnant and naked on a couch, legs crossed. A man was filming me from 7 or 8 feet away. Porn! Had I not done any porn in these dreams before? I was a cam girl once, but this looked a little more porn-y than that. He started to ask questions: it was an interview-type video, one of my favorite types!

PORNOGRAPHER “So, what are you here for today?”

ME “Well…As you might be able to guess, I’m pregnant. And I want to show off. I’ve always bursa merkez escort been a bit of an exhibitionist, and I think my preggo body is super sexy. Everything’s all curvy and swollen: why wouldn’t I want to show off? I might be looking for a bit more physical attention, too…”

PORNOGRAPHER “Awesome. You look fucking amazing, I’m with you. And we can definitely get you some physical attention, don’t worry. So, how far along are you? Do you like being pregnant?”

ME “I’m 7 1/2 months along, and, yes, I absolutely LOVE being pregnant. I feel so, so sexy. I turn heads wherever I go, which I’m way into. I get all those great belly rubs from strangers, which I know lots of preggos hate, but I just want to share my belly with everyone. And I’m making a damn baby in here! Much as I love being pregnant, I can’t wait to have my baby, too.”

PORNOGRAPHER “That’s awesome, I’m glad you’re having such a good time. What sort of changes has your body gone through?”

ME “Everything is swollen, more or less. Here, let me uncross my legs: even my pussy’s all puffed-out! I love my huge baby bump, my tits are all heavy with milk, my ass and hips look better than they ever have. Swelling can definitely be a good thing! But there are shittier parts: back aches, tummy troubles, feet and ankles swollen to the point I can’t get shoes on. But then, to be positive again, I’ve got the great shiny hair, the glow on my skin, the hormones…”

PORNOGRAPHER “Ooooh, I want to hear more about those hormones. I’ve heard about pregnant girls being pretty horny. Has that been the case for you?”

ME “It would be a huge understatement to say I’m ‘pretty horny.’ I’ve wanted to fuck 24/7 ever since the morning sickness part ended. I want cocks in me and cum all over my bump, man! I just can’t get enough. Why do you think I’m here?”

PORNOGRAPHER “So you want my dick?”

ME “Fuck yes!”

PORNOGRAPHER “What do you want to do with it?”

ME “Get those pants off and I’ll show you…”

He was nude within a few seconds, and I was kneeling in front of him, his cock in my mouth. I got him off in three or four minutes, making sure to get his whole load on my bump and rub it in nice and thoroughly. It was an awesome, particularly slutty dream.

Lotion

I was at a large outdoor public pool that was deserted save for myself and a woman lounging with her back to me. Curious, I approached and walked around her chair to see what I was dealing with. She was hugely pregnant, unsurprisingly: positively gravid, easily full-term with twins. “Oh, thank God you’re here!” she said with relief in her voice. “I can’t seem to get this suntan lotion to stay on my bump. Help me rub it in?” This was an odd challenge with my name written all over it. 

I took the bottle of lotion from her and squirted a hefty blob into my hands. Her belly was wonderfully spherical, firm and pristine; it was an absolute pleasure to massage the lotion into it. The lotion, though, was absorbed completely into her skin abnormally quickly. Her bump didn’t seem moisturized once it had all been rubbed in, instead somehow immediately feeling dry and in need of more lotion. So, more lotion it received. Same result. I repeated this ad nauseum, super turned on by this phenomenal bump while simultaneously frustrated by the odd situation. I woke up before the issue was resolved. 

Confession

In quite the unusual turn of events, this dream had me in the role of a Catholic priest. I was in my spot in the confession booth and someone entered into the confessor’s section. I started, not entirely sure of what I was supposed to say (I’m not even remotely Catholic):

“Welcome and God bless you.”

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been three bursa sınırsız escort years since my last confession. 

“In those three years, I got divorced after I was unfaithful to my husband. I slept with nine men outside the confines of marriage. I indulged in sodomy with four of them, and had relations with three of them at the same time.”

She was out to torture me in my celibacy, it seemed. Her voice said contrite things with a husky, highly sexual tone. 

“After my divorce, I kept sleeping with men, mostly anonymously and always unprotected. Eight months ago, I found out these transgressions had resulted in my pregnancy. Which hasn’t stopped me from sinning, Father.”

Sweet Jesus, it was this priest’s lucky day. I wondered how quietly I’d be able to masturbate…

“Please continue, my child.”

“Since becoming pregnant, I’ve felt more intense carnal desires than ever before, and I’ve acted on all of them. On multiple occasions, I’ve had a variety of types of relations with every man in a movie theater of ill repute. I’ve tended to men’s sinful needs through holes in bathroom stalls.”

My hand was inside my robes, slowly and silently stroking myself. 

“I prefer men spill their seed onto my midsection, despite my delicate condition. I love and fantasize about the smell and feel of it as I rub the sinfully-wasted material into my own body. I’ve had relations with other expectant mothers and recommended my perverse activities to them. I’ve not only sinned, but purposefully guided others to sin.”

She’d finished and so had I, right into my robes. I think I was supposed to assign her acts of penance now, however many “Hail Marys” or whatever. I couldn’t quite make myself go that way. 

“You are absolved, my child. For your penance, you’ve only to come to confession at the same time next week. Until then, please enjoy yourself.”

The Boss

This was probably the most impressive locale my dreams have brought me to. I was a state senator and the building housing the senate was gorgeous, including my spacious office. My pants suit was an olive-brown, top under it charcoal gray, bump under that a 7 month torpedo sticking beyond my outfit by over a foot. I felt sexy and powerful, rocking extra curves and maternal life-creating skills along with my sleek outfit and high-power job. Moving down the halls, I got as close to strutting as a heavily pregnant girl could hope to. 

None of my colleagues seemed to know what to do with me. I was young, single, and proudly pregnant. I held no shame within myself, regardless of what my old white male colleagues thought I should feel. Feelings of increased power and sexiness had me operating in a mode of elevated confidence and getting shit done. 

I spoke up in a committee meeting at which I was the most junior member, holding the floor for over 7 minutes as I took a stand against limiting voter rights. My colleagues don’t seem to know whether it’s proper to interrupt someone in my “delicate” condition, so they tended to let me walk all over them when I chose to. Which was whenever I damn well pleased. I had them running scared and felt all the more powerful for it. 

Utilizing my sexual confidence, I’d turned my personal assistant into a VERY personal assistant. He was young and cute, petite but fit. His frequent looks at my curvy preggo body gave him away: I cornered him in his little office, pretty much demanding to know whether he found me attractive. After a bit of bullying, he finally admitted to the attraction. 

I knew I was abusing our power dynamic, but I found it all really fucking hot. I’d lock the door of our office suite, remove my skirt and panties, sit in my fancy office chair, and call him in for cunnilingus. Don’t worry: he got his dick sucked regularly, as my pregnant hormonal horniness had me craving cum even more frequently than usual. 

I could have a baby all on my own, get legislative business done, and trade casual oral sex in an inappropriate setting: I was on top of the goddamned world.

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