Subject: 
        "My Preggiful Days" Part 1a
  Date: 
        Thu, 27 Mar 1997 21:23:16 -0500 (EST)
  From: 
        Jackie <an338903@cris.com>
    To: 
        Will Bow <wbow@crl.com>


Hi again,

I haven't seen many stories posted about a woman's sex life while she is
pregnant and *really* round and bloated, so I thought I'd write about my
last pregnancy. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I have
enjoyed writing it. If you want to hear more, let me know.

Part 2 should be posted around the first week in May ~~ sorry, but I do
have other thing to do than just write, I also have more in-depth research
to do. <sigh>

Any comments; pats on the back, tummy, or elsewhere; and constructive
criticisms will be *gratefully* accepted. Flames will be totally ignored.
Thanks.

E-huggs,

Jackie
xoxox
an338903@cris.com

================================================

This fictional story contains graphic descriptions of  *all* types of vanilla
and kinky sexual acts between a *very* pregnant female and a non-related
male or female. If you:

     a) Are under 18 years old
     b) Are offended by any graphic actions
     c) Feel these are against your Community Standards
     d) Feel that a pregnant woman should stay home in a rocking chair,
          looking motherly

Please STOP reading and IMMEDIATELY LEAVE and CLOSE this 
file !!!!!

================================================

                My Preggiful Days

             Part 1a of 4 (version 1.0)

              (Copyright 1996, 1997)

           by Jackie (an338903@cris.com)


I had always thought when I became pregnant my sex life would slow
down drastically or even completely stop, but it has not only increased
*but* greatly improved. At first, I missed my dear boyfriend, who had
suddenly found a job in Australia, of all places, but once I started vastly
"showing," I had more male (and some female) attention than my poor
bloated body could handle.

I knew being 20 years old, single, and pregnant was going to be very hard
on me, but early on, I decided I was going to have, and keep, the baby no
matter what happened. Then, I find out it's not "baby" *but* "babies" ~~
I'm pregnant with TWINS !! It's nobody's fault but *mine* for having hot
wild, but mostly unprotected, sex a couple times a week ~~ at least
"pregnant" was the only thing I got.

Just into my seventh month (week 29 LMP), this happy-ordeal has greatly
improved my "social" life, but taken a huge toll on my previously firm
young body. I could never have guessed how much *both* have changed.

This "bod" *was* a statuesque and voluptuous 36DD-26-37, almost 5' 1-
1/4" (hey, every quarter inch counts at my height), about 111 lbs. naked
(and soaking wet), a firm waist with a deep "innie," and solid round
bubbles for butt cheeks. My porcelain-white skin is still crowned by my
sparkling emerald-green eyes and my long flaming red hair, both inherited
from my Irish forebears. (I've been told my flaming red hair aptly
reflected the boiling inferno that would suddenly erupt throughout my
tender young body when it was even *lightly* stroked.) 

Over the years at Lake Wini, my bod would attract *all* the young guys
attention from far away ~~ mostly because I would stick a twinkling faux
emerald in my belly button. As I bounced closer, the bolder guys used to
huskily whisper that I looked "just eatable" in my small, tight two-piece
black thong bikini.

If I was "in the mood," I would kneel next to one of those guys, hotly
whispering back, "Looks like your snake needs a little taming," as I gave
his hardening joy-stick a firm playful squeeze. If that guy didn't turn beet-
red, running away with his "tail" wagging between his legs, I would let
him help me practice my "flute" lessons in the wooded area behind the
changing rooms. They always told me that I deserved to be a "first chair."

In those days before AIDS, I just couldn't get enough sperm. I always
loved it fresh and hot, directly from the guy's spout. On uncut guys, I
simply loved to wiggle my tongue inside his wrinkled nipple, getting
every last little bit.

Later, I'd wriggle down my throng and let him hotly nibble on his juicy
"desert." I never had a guy turn me down, even if they didn't like "muff
diving."

My almost-bare, well-oiled tan bulges glistening in the bright sun
*always* raised some fine-looking elongated lumps in those guy's form-
fitting red speedo suits. As my sparkling assets *slowly* strutted, jiggled,
and wiggled by, those long fat snakes would wriggle and thrash under
those ultra-tight thin red suits, like caged animals seeking escape. I'm sure
*they* knew exactly "where" they wanted to deeply burrow and nest.

I truly felt like a naughty Indian snake charmer as those "cobras" flared
their purple helmeted heads, starting to spit. Having lovingly sampled
some and deftly stroked the full lethal-length of others in the bare flesh, I
knew those tight thin speedos were fighting a losing battle against those
wriggling mound-making snakes. Just after my parade, most of those guys
usually decided to quickly flip over and begin tanning their backs, but later
left a *deep* impression in the sand when the rest of their body finally got
up. <giggle>

It *always* started my barely-covered pink pussy pouting just watching
how the couple of *really* lanky snakes would steadily inflate longer and
longer, puffing up fatter and fatter, making huge expanding ripples in
those form-fitting red suits.. Most times, *I* never had to go in the water
to get *very* "wet." 

Antonio was my favorite guy to tease at the lake. His monster enlarged so
much that it would quickly burrow clear across his groin, then begin
curving around his hip. It left such a huge mound that only a grossly over-
stuffed Italian salami could have filled it. 

I usually stood very erotically and chatted with him as he lay on his back
in the sand. I would do all I could to excite that monster even further,
while constantly stealing peeks, feeling my plump puffy pussy getting
wetter and wetter. 

One hand might adjust my thong bottom, sometimes letting one puffy
pouting lip "accidentally" pop free, glistening in the sunlight from my hot
horny juices. Of course, I would "blush" and say, "Excuse me," slowly
covering it back up, as I stared at that huge salami thrashing and bloating
even fatter and longer.

Antonio was very proud of his huge god-given gift, never covering it up
like most of the guys. His suit was so tight and that salami so huge, it was
easily to tell that he was cut. That thin suit molded that bloated monster
sooo well that every bump, vein, and ridge vividly showed. It actually was
*better* than seeing him naked cause there was something *very* naughty
about seeing him this way.

Once when I bent over to examine a bruise on his muscular thigh, his eyes
got a perfect view of my huge round jiggling globes with their tiny black
triangular cloth covering ~~ only inches away. From the corner of my eye,
I could see him lick his lips, letting his wide tongue slowly slide across, as
if it was leaving a wet heated trail on my tingling jiggling breast-flesh.

My eyes, though, got a beautiful view of his long fat salami as it wriggled
under that thin tight second skin. These wet parted lips, only inches away,
felt singed from the intense heat radiating from that throbbing python. His
male aroma smelled heavenly, making my head swoon and my breasts
wobble even more. It took all my restraint to keep from hotly kissing
along its entire humongous length, fat inch by fat inch, hot wet kiss by hot
wet kiss. Our unspoken rule was "look all you want, but no touching" ~~
double damn, but it gave me something to masturbate about later on.

Most times while I intently watched, he would slowly shift and adjust that
huge long cannon, allowing it to spread even longer and fatter ~~ I guess
we both liked to tease. Unfortunately, Antonio moved the following
spring, so I never did get to see, feel, or savor that cannon exploding its
snowy-white globs of sweet gooey nectar, although I did have one very
hot, wet summer.

Where ever I was, those tiny triangles on that minuscule black string-top
could hardly contain my large firm balloons, just about covering my wide
dark areola (about the size of large sand-dollars). My long fat nipples were
always obviously poking through that thin material, making tall tents of
their own. Adjusting my top near an older gentleman might give "rise" to
a heated conversation, or simply, a violent thrashing heart attack.

The black thong bottom hardly kissed my evenly tanned buns, so easily
slipping into my butt crack. The front only just covered my pink pussy lips
and curly fiery-red forest ~~ that is, if I shaved off the curly red hair
almost up to each proud protruding lip. 

Girls would giggle, and women snicker, as I strutted by, because they were
"green with envy," wishing they had even half of what I had. Once a girl
told me, "You'll get yours in the end !!" I just wiggled my bouncing
almost-bare buns directly in her face, spreading them as wide as possible.
Then, I replied in a slow Southern drawl, "I *surely* hope so. Indeedy, I
do" as I slowly strutted away. She only screeched, then pouted.

I always loved my beautiful svelte body. I could dance for hours *naked*
in front of my full-length bedroom mirror watching my body's image glide
like a ballerina ~~ from the front, the back, and even looking over my
sensuous creamy shoulder. My huge milky-white spheres would float in
mid-air like two gigantic glistening soap bubbles, their long hard red
nipples jutting way out in front. I never understood why my large round
globes never sagged like other girls the same size, but I also never
questioned it, just said a few more "Hail Marys" on Sunday.

My pregnancy changed all that ~~ some better, some worse. In both cases,
I soon decided I was going to make the best of it. I wasn't proud of being
single and pregnant, but since I was and couldn't realistically change it, it
was "water over the dam" to me. 

I had always heard that some men *really* adored a full-blown pregnant
body and *I* was going to find out exactly "how much." What surprised
me most though, was how many "women" *also* liked a big bellied
pregnant woman too !! 

Instead of hiding my pregnancy with A-lines that hung like tents, trying to
camouflage everything, *all* my tops and dresses have an "empire waist."
This style has a tight elastic just below the breasts, emphasizing *both*
my bloated breasts and my bulging belly to their glorious maximum. Now-
a-days, there sure is a whole heap to emphasize !! 

My breasts have ballooned to a 42-DDDD (=42G), and may inflate even
larger and fuller. (I think they know that they will have two *very* hungry
twins to feed.) Just envision one of those smooth large yellowish-green
"Honey Dew" melons, *not* one of those small piddling cantaloupes,
from the produce section of your favorite supermarket. Now DOUBLE its
length into an oval. That's about what *each* of those delicious hanging
hooters looks like.

My "waist" around that bulging beachball belly was over 65 inches the
last time I measured, and by now, it must be over 70 inches !! That
wobbling beachball of a belly *now* sticks straight out over 22 inches (!!)
*further* than before I was pregnant. Just that in itself is totally mind
boggling. 

*You* may have trouble envisioning a belly jutting that far out, but *I*
have to cart it around all day !! You guys and gals with fairly flat guts can
try this: Push an 18" (*not* a 12") plastic ruler as far as it will go into your
navel (feels good, doesn't it <giggle>). Now *add* 4 or 5 inches to the
end, depending on how deeply that ruler's tickling your belly button's 
inner flesh <smile>. That is about how far my bulging beachball of a belly
sticks out in front, *and* my pop'd belly button sticks out another inch !!.

With my "vertically challenged" stature, my ballooning uterus with those
twins first filled up *every* nook and cranny in my whole torso, all the
way up to my esophagus. Then, the only way for it to go was jutting out
further and further. I may end up *wider* front-to-back than I am tall
<grin>.

Both look simply enormous on my 5' 1-1/4" frame, adding almost 66 lbs.
(!!) in just those *two* areas, since my thighs have remained at about their
pre-pregnancy circumference. And you wonder why I always feel like I'm
toppling over frontwards like a wobbling "duck pin".

In addition to those, there have been smaller changes, such as my nipples
growing even longer and much fatter, becoming a dark reddish-brown
with a rubbery texture and poking out over an inch when excited; my dark
reddish-brown areola have expanded to about 3 inches across and become
very puffy near the nipples, super-cone-shaped;  my belly button has pop'd
far out, now looking like a small 1" stalk on which I can even hang objects
<giggle>; and finally, my "black badge of courage," a vertical line which
begins at the base of my belly and runs all the way around (about 6 miles),
ending at the base of my breasts.

You will understand better as I relate to you about my body's changes, my
experiences, and how I learned to make the best of them, rather than
sitting home sulking and crying.

Part 1 will revolve around the changes to my breasts, while parts 2-4 will
revolve around the changes to my reddish-brown rubbery nipples; my
bloated bulging belly; and my pouting pink pussy, respectively.

I.   My Bloated Breasts

The first change I noticed was my beautiful floating globes quickly
became huge sagging sacks. Overnight, "plunk," gravity set in !! At first
this utterly depressed me,  *but* I quickly realized that most guys didn't
care ~~ they enjoyed "hangers" and "floppers" as long as they were l-a-r-g-e.

So you can *fully* grasp the huge difference, let's create a very graphic
comparison. Go find four large pink balloons. (For you guys, you can even
draw wide red circles around the four tips with a red magic marker for
"reality.") 

For the "before," fill two pretty pink balloons with helium to about the
size of a large "Honey Dew" melon. I am sure you can envision these
perfectly round globes floating around, jiggling and bouncing as I moved.
Remember not nibbling on those balloons ~~ yet. 

(Psst, guys ~~ sneak these under a thin white T-shirt to see what they
*really* feel like. I won't tell. Maybe, you can even see those red circles
through the T-shirt in a mirror. Better still, borrow a bra from your girl
friend, or even your mother ~~ she probably has larger cups. Slip it on,
[hint: the cups go in the front <giggle>], then put *only* one balloon in
each cup. Finally, strut around and see how you look.)

Now for the "after." Fill the other two pink balloons with *warm* water to
about the size of a medium watermelon. Don't forget to securely close the
spout or you might end up dribbling down into your "shorts." 

I don't think I have to tell you, but *both* drastically droop, resembling
extra-long skinny watermelons, sloshing around as you walk. They
*never* even think about jiggling, only sway from side to side like twin
bags of cement. There you have it ~~ a vivid "before" and "after" !! 

(Psst, guys ~~ try sneaking *these* under that thin white T-shirt, then
watch them hang down, *well* into your shorts. That red nipple you drew
is now lower than your navel. Either is much too large to fit in a single bra
cup, even if you try to put the *same* one in both cups, unless your
mother or girl friend is Wendy Whoppers or Yolanda. As an added bonus:
if you position one warm "hanger" on each side of  "junior" and add a
little lubrication [if there's not enough already <giggle>], you've created a
warm soothing do-it-yourself "tit-fuck" as you walk, strut, or skip.)

On the plus-side (yes, a double entendre), both have now ballooned even
larger, to at least a 40-DDDD cup size (=> 40-G). Where I could easily go
braless before, I now need two cranes just to hold those bloated
watermelons up. The furrows in my shoulders from those straining bra
straps are getting sooo deep, I have been told that I should apply for a
"farm subsidy."

(I guess, though, I should consider myself lucky. A woman I knew through
natural child-birth class gave birth about a week ago. Her huge hooters
have ballooned out to a 42-H, yes that's 42-DDDDD and will probably
grow even fuller as her breasts *really* get into the swing of producing
milk. The only way she is going to get those milk jugs around is with a
wheel barrow.)

And the "good" news ~~ my doctor said that my torpedoes will shoot out
even further and much, much fuller once I begin to regularly breast-feed.
Then I'll need a super-crane to hold those two other cranes up. Just great, I
can hardly wait ~~ by then, I could feed a whole city block with those two
taut bloated milk machines alone. [Don't you wish *you* lived on my
block. <giggle>]

I *will* get a tax advantage from this pregnancy. My bra cups have gotten
so immense that I'm donating my used bras to NASA. They are using
them as nose covers for those twin fuel tanks on the Space Shuttle. Since
they are already joined together, one mighty tug and they both come right
off instantly. This saves the government millions and look at my tax write-off.

                     * * * * *

Not only have my bra cups hugely expanded to handle my greatly
increased size, but the width of my bra strap has as well. It now covers
most of the upper third of my back. It looks like I'm wearing a back-brace,
well, maybe I am. I feel like I'm strapping myself into a straight jacket
every morning.

I used to only have to worry about connecting 4-5 hooks each morning,
now that count is somewhere up around 9-10, or even more, hooks. You
can't hook *these* bras in the front, then spin them around. It takes me
almost a half hour *every* morning just to "buckle up," or is that "get
saddled." If some guy comes up behind me and whispers, "giddyap,"
"pow" right in the ol' schnozzle.

Just for fun the other day, I wore a black maternity bra with 9 hooks under
a sheer white silk blouse. (I like to tease with my body, as if you hadn't
already guessed.) I had a guy following me around all morning, just
staring at my back, sometimes licking his lips. 

Maybe, he was counting my bra hooks. He didn't seem at all interested in
my front. Talk about a "hook-up," err, "hang-up." Do you think he could
have been from the Department of Motor Vehicles doing an unscheduled
inspection of the strain on my overloaded chassis ?? I mean if that strap
ever broke, "bong," there would be mountains of tit everywhere.

I have always had one question. Do "bra-guys" compare us like the big
game hunters do ?? A big game hunter going after moose will say, "I
bagged a 6 pointer today," as a broad smile spreads over his face. Will a
"bra-guy" say, "I bagged an 9-hooker today. Tomorrow, I'm going after a
10-hooker," as he puffs out his chest with a grandiose show of pride ??

                     * * * * *

Right now, any hanging pendant or "lariat" necklace that I wear is forever
lost, squished and buried between those twin bloated mountains. My
favorite is a "lariat" necklace with a silver chain and small pieces of
turquoise stone around the neck loop. At the end of the single hanging
strand is a turquoise-shaped arrowhead with its tip pointing down into the
deep valley between my breasts, where else ?

Last week, I waddled to the zoo looking "very pregnant" in my blue denim
stretch maternity shorts and white "low v-neck" baby-doll style top. I
purposely wore a fire-engine-red stretch bra under that sheer tight white
top so it would vividly show through. Looking in a mirror before I left,
every hook on my mile-wide red bra strap and every swirl on my over-
stuffed red cups was totally visible through that sheer white top. 

Roughly rubbing my fat nipples, I noted with glee that those now-erect
bullets visibly poked out over an inch through those thin tight layers.
Teasing still is "fun," even with my bloated pg body. That tight white
baby-doll top fully emphasized my bulging motherly breasts and hugely
bloated belly, hiding absolutely nothing and making me look even *more*
pregnant, if that were possible. What was I trying to hide though, "I am
*very* pregnant !!" 

Even at that zoo among those passive animals, at least four guys, and two
girls (!!), asked to closely examine that turquoise arrowhead. (I never
before viewed the "zoo" as a "pick-up" place, maybe I have been missing
something.) *All* then quickly tried to slip their warm wiggling fingers
down between those bra-busting udders to fetch it for me. I only let two
cute guys, and both pretty girls, succeed. (I guess the zoo *really* is the
right place to see erotic, err exotic, male and female animals; or to
"monkey" around.)

The "good" news was that twenty warm stroking and searching fingers
caressing that plump pliable flesh felt sooo good that a vertical wet line
almost-immediately developed on my tight red over-stuffed panties. The
"bad" news was that not all twenty fingers were caressing, jiggling,
massaging, and stroking my bloated yearning tit-flesh, wrinkled areola,
and stiff nipples at once! 

Gary, the cutest guy, even let his warm searching fingers roam from my
deep valley around front to one fat hard nipple, "accidentally" stroking its
puckered reddish-brown tip while trying to fish out that "lost" arrowhead.
That excited nipple immediately jutted out further, both fatter and harder,
having found a new intimate friend. While I tried to act aloof, my swelling
breast could distinctly feel every motion of those hot fingers as they
stroked that bloated creamy flesh with its puffy blue veins, then again
snuck around front to graze both my bumpy shriveled areola and erect
nipple, making my shiver. 

By now, my red stretch-bra began to feel sooo very tight, straining, as
more and more hot expanding tit-flesh spilled out of those over-stretched
cups. As my panting increased, I could no longer remain aloof. My
pouting puss oozed out more and more making my sheer panties sopping
wet, forcing me to gently rub my heated thighs together. 

His mischievous sparkling eyes always stared straight at me, watching me
wiggle and shiver, as those fingers played their naughty game with my
poor fat defenseless nipple. He seemed to know exactly what my bloated
body needed. My eyes, though, demurely looked down, watching with
increasing interest a growing bulge sprout under his tight faded jeans.

When I didn't protest, only deeply "sighed," a broad grin spread across his
intense face. Now, those warm fingers began vigorously tweaking both
bullet-hard nipples, making my pouting pussy juice even more. Even
though I wasn't wearing a nursing bra or a top with vertical nursing slits,
once *my* hand "accidentally" brushed that hard bulge lunging out in the
front of his faded jeans, I knew that our meeting wasn't going to end with
only a quick feel. 

Temporarily removing his hand from the "V" of my baby-doll top, Gary
led me waddling into a wooded tract at the edge of a deserted picnic area,
hotly nibbling at my ear along the way. He helped me wiggle my
wobbling body up on the end of a picnic table, putting my bloated
balloons now at the proper height, while allowing my bloated pg belly to
hang between my widely spread legs. 

Standing between those widely spread legs, he began sensuously rubbing
the top and sides of my firm round beachball through my baby-doll top,
making me loudly purr a chorus of  "Ooooooos" and "Ahhhhhhs." His
caresses on my bulging belly felt sooo good, bloating it out further and
even making my pussy begin to drool. 

Then, he slid his hands up to my panting bloated balloons, squeezing them
together through my top and bra, enjoying the way my breast-flesh bulged
even further out that "V" in the center. While his hands were busy, he
lowered his hot moist lips, beginning to hotly kiss and nibble those
overflowing bulges through that "V." Every once in a while, he'd blow a
gust of hot breath into that deep valley between those mountains, making
my whole body violently shiver, then pant with desire. 

Finally, he slowly lifted the "skirt" of my white baby-doll top, like a
treasure-hunter uncovering a priceless jewel. Only uncovering my huge
bulging beachball at first, Gary marveled at its gigantic size. His hot palms
had to handle that wobbling sphere all over, first rubbing, then pressing
like he was testing the firmness of some huge fresh fruit. 

Again, those hot moist lips went immediately to work, covering every inch
of that huge bloated sphere with hot moist kisses, occasionally tickling
some taut belly-flesh with his firm pointed tongue. He even spent a couple
minutes suckling on my pop'd belly button, as if he had found a third
nipple. If my tight red panties weren't sopping wet before, they surely
were now.

Next, Gary lifted the empire-waist elastic over my breasts, bringing those
red-encased monsters finally into full view. I thought that his eyes would
pop out of his head when he saw the size of my heaving milky-white
melons barely encased in that red stretch-bra. After a silence and a very
deep breath, all Gary could say was "Whooooeeeee," as his tongue
actively licked his lips.

My puckered dark reddish-brown nipples showed vividly through my
sheer red stretch-bra. Arching my back, I made those hard fat nubs poke
out even further through that thin straining bra material.

Gary's eyes got big as saucers and now his panting mouth hung open,
even drooling a little. I could hear his breathing quicken further, while his
right hand scratched the itch at the tip of *his* mountain. While still
partially encased in my red stretch bra, both his hands quickly attacked
those whoppers ~~ squeezing, rubbing, and mushing them together,
making my breathing now come in "gasps." 

My right breast began oozing out of that overstretched and overburdened
red bra, then suddenly "pop'd" fully out. Bursting out so fast, I thought
Gary was going to get whompped, ending up with a black eye. That
bloated boob expanded downward, like a huge unhooked accordion,
slinking further and further down, covering most bare pink flesh on the
right side of my huge wobbling beachball belly. Finally stopping, my long
puckered reddish-brown nipple could almost kiss my pop'd stem of a belly
button.

Finally, I had to push Gary's hot hands away, seeing a hurt puppy-dog
look appear on his face. As I reached behind to unhook my bra, I asked
Gary, "Would you like to play Baby ?"

All Gary could do was glow, like a kid with a new toy, then slowly nod his
head in the affirmative. His ogling eyes never left my remaining whopper
as it finally tumbled free. Creamy bloated breast-flesh now totally covered
the upper two-thirds of that pink beachball belly ~~ they were much more
than just "hangers" now, it was like somebody had balanced two medium
water-melons, side by side, on the shelf-top of my swollen belly. 

With one hand, I picked up the end of my right melon, while with the
other I pulled Gary's head toward its fat needy nipple. First, his hot lips
wetly kissed my whole wrinkled reddish-brown areola, leaving a trail of
shivers down my spine in their wake. Gary sure was an "oral" guy. 

Next, his parted wet lips sucked in that whole fat nipple in a single
"swoop" and began vigorously suckling on it, while tweaking its rubbery
nub with his tongue's hard wet tip. The hot wetness of his saliva felt sooo
good as it completely coated those wrinkles, both valleys and peaks, of
that still-swelling udder.  

"Suck me harder, Gary. Suck *hard* on that bloated milk machine," I
hotly whispered, my bloated body needing to feel even stronger
sensations.

Those jolting and rippling sensations finally became sooo great that I had
to quickly grab onto the edge of that picnic table top to keep from toppling
over. One tiny climax for womankind. I could feel a large wet spot
forming on the front of my shorts, but right now, I didn't care..

After regaining my balance, I *intentionally* began undulating and
rocking that pouting puffy pussy against that rough table edge. My plush
tush pulled, then released, that sopping panty crotch over my drenched lips
and very hard clitty, then deep into my wet yearning crevice. 

Gary was too busy suckling, but *I* could surely hear the louder and
louder "squishing" noise as that panty crotch was pulled in and out my
sopping-wet dripping slit, parting and flaring those pink puffy pussy lips
even further. Even all that wetness couldn't drench the fire that was slowly
building, glowing hotter and hotter between my thighs.

As I rocked and wiggled, panted and groaned, I let one hand slip down the
front of Gary's tight faded jeans, pressing and rubbing his obscene
thrashing tent pole. Feeling it so strongly pulse and jump under my
caresses, my panting body wanted so much more, so both hands slipped
down and slowly lowered his zipper. 

Sneaking inside those moist jeans, my warm fingers felt his semi-hard
cock arching painfully, still imprisoned in his taut white cotton briefs.
Those tickling and caressing finger tips could feel the multiple wet spots
in that cotton material where his hot sticky precum had oozed through as
that bloating cock had wiggled and thrashed, desperately attempting to
poke free.

[End of Part 1a]