To: Will Bow <wbow@crl.com>

From: Jackie <an338903@cris.com>

Subject: "My Preggiful Days" Part 1d [end Part 1]

X-Mozilla-Status: 0001



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 1d of 4 (version 1.0)



              (Copyright 1996, 1997)



           by Jackie (an338903@cris.com)



Even though I fully expected my ballooning breasts to attract guys,

surprisingly, women have wanted to play even more with them. That was

the case when I stopped in at Mom's Maternity Shop to get some larger

nursing bras. Here's what happened there:



Mom's Maternity Shop was a small store in a specialty plaza ~~ it wasn't

affiliated with any of those larger maternity chains, such as "mothertime"

"Dan Howard," or "Mothers Work." I had been visiting a girlfriend who

lived nearby and decided to stop to purchase some larger-size nursing bras. 



Although small, that shop seemed to contain any style of clothing a

pregnant woman could ever be looking for, from very sheer lingerie to

more formal cocktail dresses. I was very impressed with the selection, the

organization, and the prices for such a small store.



The majority of the store was strictly maternity clothes, but a "Nursing

Mother's" section occupied a whole front corner. There, the products

varied from "Leading Lady" and generic breast-feeding pads in round,

cute heart, and other shapes, and day and night thicknesses; to Evenflo and

Medela breast pumps with connections for one or both breasts, either

battery or electric; to colorful totes for carrying all the items needed for

both you and baby. There were also two racks of tops, jumpers, and

lingerie with those "hidden slits" to make nursing convenient but discreet.



(After my tryst with Maria, seeing all those breast-feeding products started

my mind wandering, creating an itch between my legs that would be hard

to quench, at least, in a public mall or store. My "creative" mind

envisioned those heart-shaped fluffy nursing pads sopping wet with warm

sweet mother's milk, so full that the slightest squeeze caused a river to run

out.)



(I thought about holding one, or maybe two or three, of those sopping wet

pads over my wide open mouth and just squeezing. I could almost taste

that warm sweet liquid cascading down into my mouth, then flowing down

my throat. That milk was warm now, not from her inner body heat, but

from her breast and nipple flesh that had been so firmly pressed and

pushed against that pad.) 



(I could even taste a little sweat, where those sweat droplets had run off

her ample bosom, absorbed by those thick pads. "Ummmm, a *real* river

would taste sooo good right now," I thought with my eyes glazing over.)



I abruptly forced my mind back to the present, but my wandering eyes

now landed on the array of breast pumps, with a large demonstration

poster hanging above proclaiming, "It's so Simple." 



(I began to envision I was kneeling in front of  that woman on the poster,

just watching.  Her creamy breasts looked super-engorged, so taut and

hard that even the least little touch would send warm milk squirting

everywhere. They must not have let her release any milk for at least a day

for those balloons to look that full. She would press that extra-large clear-

glass nipple shield over her long fat nipple, then turn on the suction. It

quickly became obvious why she needed the "extra-large" size to contain

her huge dark red nipple.)



(That poor straining, overburdened breast pump would whir and hum,

moan and groan, then finally succeed in releasing her warm sweet

mother's milk. I could vividly see its milky-whiteness swirl through the

clear-plastic tubes, first dripping, then gushing into a clear-plastic

collection/storage bag. While holding that clear-glass breast shield firmly

pressed over her nipple with one hand, her other hand squeezed that breast

from back to front, coaxing more and more milk to flow toward her nipple

and out through the pump.)



(I could vividly see me taking one of those full plastic nursing bags and

holding it high over my naked body, slowly letting the still-warm milk

drip and drizzle into my open mouth. I might even intentionally let some

overflow my mouth, running down my up-stretched neck.) 



(Next, my bloated twin mounds feel the sizzling warmth as it leaves its

trail of white, finally dripping from my hard fat reddish-brown nipples. If I

were sitting up, that hot stream would ooze down across my bloated belly,

slithering amongst my fiery-red curls, running along my pouting pussy

lips, finally making a puddle under my wet pouting puss.)



(If I felt adventurous, I might dip a curved finger into that mixed up

puddle. Raising a dab to my lips, I could taste the intermingled flavors of

that sweet mother's milk and my tangy female nectar. Talk about a "sweet

and sour" taste sensation !!)



(As my imaginary woman pauses, finally removing the glass breast shield

of  that *very* tired pump, her nipple appears so wet and grossly

elongated, drawn out so much further by that intense constant suction.



From both that suction and the release of all that milk, her reddish-brown

rubbery nipple and areola now look coned-shaped. Her skin can now

pucker slightly, no longer stretched so hard and taut from that intense

internal pressure. I also notice that nipple sparkling and glistening in the

bright light from its complete coating of motherly milk.)



Again, I have to jerk my thoughts back to the present, immediately

realizing that my skimpy panties have become sopping wet. I wonder if

there is a bathroom nearby to take care of my "itch," but first the new bras.



About two-thirds of the remainder of the store contained maternity clothes,

mostly casual, but ranging from those cute cuffed denim "shortalls" that

make you look like a denim beach-ball with legs; to jumpers, jump-suits,

and rompers; to blouses and dresses; to very elaborate formal cocktail

gowns. Obviously, fewer of the last ~~ how many pregnant women want

to be the center-piece of a cocktail party.



I decided to waddle a bee-line for the nursing bra displays. I grinned to

myself as I heard those sopping panties squish as I waddled.  Even in this

small store, there was a huge selection, with styles by Playtex, Goddess,

and Bravado.



Behind the only check-out desk were two older women, who I found out

later were the owners. I say "older," but I guessed one to be in her middle

to late thirties and the other to be in her late forties. (I can remember when

I thought that twenty-five was old !!) 



Even though I was wearing a now-tight, but comfortable style, 40-DDD

embroidered and cushioned underwire bra from J. C. Penney, I still

wondered if there might not be another style better suited for my ever

expanding balloons. It was confusing,. There seemed to be so many

different manufacturers and styles displayed, *and* I suspected that each

one fit a little differently. I slowly approached the checkout to ask them

about the best size and style of nursing bra for my growing and thrusting

bust.



The shorter one, whose name-tag said Victoria, definitely not Vicky, asked

how far along my pregnancy was, my current bust size, and how my

current bra fitted.  After each individual answer, she stared a little, maybe

sighed, pondered some more, then asked another question.



Victoria was dressed stylishly, yet ultra-conservatively. Her clothing very

much matched her name. She was wearing a plain white blouse with a

very high collar, buttoned up to her neck. Her gray skirt was tight, with

only a small opening at the bottom, more like a tube  ~~ the type where

you have to take midget-steps to walk.



This clothing style, in addition to her wide-rimmed brown glasses and her

long dirty-blond hair twirled up in a bun, made her look like the old

stereotypical librarian. I'm sure it wasn't intentional, *but* that was the

image "she" created in my mind. 



Soon, Victoria and the other owner began talking back and forth, finally

almost arguing. After what seemed like ten minutes, Victoria turned to me

saying, "We just can't decide which style and size would be best for you." 



Then Victoria continued, "Since today is very slow, why don't I take you

into the back where it is more private. It's always best to be properly fitted

during your third trimester. You can try on various nursing bras until we

find the most comfortable size and style."



That sounded great, as mine was really killing me, so I quickly said "Ok."

As we turned I added, "I really appreciate your help and attention."

Victoria only smiled in return as I followed her behind a pair of closed

curtains and into a small fitting room.



In the back, after the curtains were tightly closed, she asked me to

unbutton my maternity dress. Silly me, instead of wearing a maternity top

and panel-pants so only the top had to be unbuttoned, today, I wore a

"Vintage Blue" stone-washed denim maternity dress. It had an empire

waist and a full button front, also I liked the pretty feminine lace trim

around the collar and breast pocket. I thought that it would look a little

more dressier for my girl friend's house, but this now meant that I had to

unbutton it most of the way down. It also didn't help that my panties were

sopping wet.



Victoria, sensing my hesitation, soothingly said, "Don't be shy. I have

seen all types and sizes of breasts in my job. Yours are probably nothing I

haven't seen before."



I smiled to myself thinking about the size and shape of my huge balloons,

then began unbuttoning the front of my denim dress. I stopped about two-

thirds of the way down, hoping that my sopping panties would stay

covered, but allowing Victoria enough room to reach underneath.



Victoria stepped close to me and spread the upper part of my dress wide

exposing my bloated breasts and bra. She tried to reach around to check

the strap, her chubby tummy firmly pressing against my bulging belly, but

her arms were too short. Now-a-days, my bulging beachball always finds

some reason to get in the way.



Her warm tummy felt oh sooo good rubbing against my beachball and

belly-button stem as she struggled to reach around and check that evasive

strap. Suddenly, she stopped and stepped back saying, "I'm sorry, I just

can't reach it. You'll have to remove your dress so I can check it from the

back."



"Well," I thought, "it's now or never," as I finished unbuttoning my denim

dress the rest of the way. I slipped it off my shoulders, turned around and

bent over, placing it neatly folded on the nearby bench.



With Victoria behind me as I bent over, I was sure that she could vividly

see my sopping wet panty crotch, especially when it slipped up between

my wet pouting pussy lips, but there was nothing I could do. She'd find

out soon enough that my body was *very* turned-on when she saw my fat

erect nipples and puckered crinkled areola.



Bending back up, there I was, standing proud and wide in front of

Victoria, a complete stranger, in just my bra, panties, and hose. What a

sight I must have been ~~ a pair of white sneakers; my white (actually

"pearl") ribbed stockings extending almost to the top of my shaking

thighs; a white garter belt strapped around my huge pink beachball,

hooked above my sprouting belly-button, with those tabs straining down

to those stocking tops; my white Bali "vikini" panties that fully covered

my buns but were cut very low in the front so they hung below my bulging

belly; and finally, my white embroidered underwire nursing bra with those

ballooning breasts busting out at the top and sides.



"If it wasn't for my bloated wobbling pink beachball, sticking out almost

into tomorrow, all that white lacy lingerie would make me look like a

blushing bride," I thought, "though, not very innocent," as I patted my

bulging belly with both hands and chuckled.



Victoria turned me with my back towards her. While she investigated the

fit of my current nursing-bra strap, I could acutely feel her lingering warm

fingers and her hot breath against my shoulders and neck. Every place her

soft fingers touched became inflamed. This sent shivers down my spine,

causing my fat nipples to harden into bullets, and my pouting pussy to

begin blooming wider and wider. Since her chubby belly was pressed

against my buns, I was sure she could feel those tingles as they zipped

down my spine, heading directly for my wet heated pussy.



Victoria, though, *only* acted business-like. "You do need a size 42," she

stated, "It's correct to be on the outer set of hooks at this point in your

pregnancy, so after you give birth, you can use the same bra, just moving

to one of the inner sets as your girth decreases. This bra, though, is just too

tight and will get even tighter over the next month or so."



Although once, I thought I felt her moist hot lips brush my shoulder,

causing my chin to lift and my head to slightly angle backwards. "I must

be imaging this," was all I could think, "I am only here to purchase a

couple bras and Victoria is sooo business-like." Imagined or not, I felt my

turned-on body begin to respond to her subtle touches and caresses.



She begun reaching around with both hot sweaty palms, running them

along that over-stretched white elastic on both sides of my upper body.

Her finger tips pressed and kneaded the outer edges of those over-full

cups, making my ballooned flesh swell and bulge even further, straining to

escape, searching for a warm wet pair of lips. At my other end, that

naughty puss was oozing gooey nectar, some of those pearls of musky

female dew hanging from my curly red hairs.



As Victoria reached further around my bust, both her hard pebbly nipples

pressed into my bare back through both her bra and blouse. My back

became so sensitive to those super-hot tips, I thought I was going to be

branded, or at least left with two fat red welts.



Suddenly, Victoria turned me around by my bare shoulders. With

astonishing composure, she almost whispered in my ear, "Are those cups

*much* too tight ?" 



I though about replying, "Yes . . . . . . but *you* made them that way," but

didn't.



She continued, "The rule-of-thumb is that you should be able to easily slip

your whole hand between the top of your breast and the cup without it

being tight. This allows sufficient room for growth when your breasts

become fully engorged."



"Hmmmmm," I thought, "nobody ever told me that. Victoria seems to

know what she is talking about."



Before I gave a reasonable answer, she just stated, "Let me check. First,

I'll see if those cups are flexible enough." Her hot hands began rubbing

and squeezing both cups at once, seeming to do much more than just

checking the fit.



"Mmmmmm. Seems like there is sufficient flexibility here," stated

Victoria through half closed eyes, as she continued to fondle both

completely encased bulging balloons.



By then, her squeezes felt so wonderful that I closed my eyes also, softly

sighing. She must have taken those "sighs" as an "Ok to continue."

Immediately, she began to more vigorously rub both the sides and

underneath of first one almost-bursting cup, then the other, lighting fires

all the way down to my now super-heating pussy.



My breasts had expanded so much that both were now pushing out around

their nursing flaps. Victoria noticed this asking, "Are those nursing flaps

too tight ?" Again, not waiting for an answer, she immediately unhooked

my right flap, letting that bloated straining udder tumble into full view.



Victoria "gasped" when she saw that huge udder ~~ its ballooning

fullness; its skin almost stretched to the maximum; its dark blue veins

vividly showing through that thin pink skin. With her eyes smoldering

with desire, she stared at its long fat reddish-brown rubbery nipple for

what seemed like minutes. Finally, she tentatively reached out one hand,

gently stroking along its massive top, which had flopped down on my

protruding shelf of a stomach.



Stopping for a minute, she quizzically looked up at me, asking, "Where

did you get the tattoo ?"



My only breathless reply, "Later, pleeeeze, ask me again later !"



I was so turned on by then, that I just lifted that huge flopper up to her

parted lips. Without a sound, she latched on like a hungry babe, licking,

tweaking, and suckling. My body was responding more and more to her

wonderful attention. Maybe it was being pregnant that did it, but my body

had never responded like this to a guy's breast play before. 



After a couple minutes, I pushed Victoria away, having to put my finger in

her mouth to break the vacuum seal like I would have a baby. She began to

pout and softly whimpered ~~ like when a new toy has been taken away

from a young child.



Again like a child, her eyes lit up as I released the clasp on the other

nursing flap, and let that engorged breast tumble into view. Although she

stared for a minute at its long fat nipple, no prompting was necessary this

time as she sucked that nipple in, then hung on for dear life. Every once in

a while, she'd stop but still not let go, gazing at that other breast whose

nipple was still puckered and rubbery, glistening from the coating of her

warm wet saliva.



All this vigorous attention was quickly raising my poor body toward a

fantastic climax. With my nipples getting sore, I pushed Victoria away

letting one hand slip into my sopping wet panties. With only a moment of

quick rubbing, I was over the edge ~~ shuttering and jerking, then finally

slipping down into a nearby chair, my breasts still uncovered, glistening

and sparkling in the light.



When I opened my eyes, Victoria was standing over me with a satisfied

look on her face, her hand still up under her dress, caressing her pussy

through her panties. I think we both got what we wanted, and *needed*.



Later, Victoria confided in me that she was a confirmed lesbian who

simply "relished" seducing "straight" women. To her, a "pregnant-

woman" was the ultimate straight-woman since the baby growing in her

tummy was living proof that she usually regularly slept with a man or

men.



Up until this point, she had resisted seducing any of her pregnant 

customers. After watching me slowly waddle into the store, my huge belly

floating, bouncing and shifting from side to side as I waddled, and my

bloated hard-nippled breasts obscenely jiggling, she knew that she would

not be able to control her hunger any longer  ~~ *I* was the *one*.



While I was trying on a lacy black nursing bra, Victoria chirped in,

"*Now*, tell me where you got the tattoo."



"Well," I began, "I got it in the summer between my junior and senior

years of high school. I was kind-of wild then. Two girls friends and I went

down to San Francisco for the weekend while my parents were away."



"We all got a little, maybe a lot, bombed from too much wine and decided

that a small tattoo would be the greatest. It was crazy, but that was then.

Cheryl and Susan got theirs on their butts, but I decided to get mine on my

breast."



"I quickly ruled out "Semper Fi",  "I Love Mom", a curling snake, and a

fire-breathing dragon. Finally, while looking through the artist's designs, I

thought of the absolutely perfect one." 



"With the way guys used to try to paw my breasts, I thought that a  girl's

face with her long tongue sticking out giving a raspberry' was very

appropriate. I even has the tattoo artist draw all those little drops of spit

around that tongue. That way, if some guy tried to brush or grab my

breasts, I just had to pull my top down only a little and show him that face

sticking its tongue out."



"My way of giving back a little revenge. And it worked !! You should

have seen how many guys blushed, then got harassed by the other guys

about how I got back at them."



"Since I've gotten older, I have though about having it removed but with

the babies, and breast-feeding later, I've decided to wait a while before

having anything done about it."



"I thought it was kind-of  cute' when that breast began drooping, the girl's

face only got a little longer, *but* the tongue stretched *inches* as that

breast drooped toward my waist. At first that face had a 1 inch tongue,

now that tongue has stretched to 4 inches."



"That tongue now looks more like it belongs to a horse, a camel, or even a

frog, than a girl's face," I finish, blushing a little. 



"That reminds me," I started again, "A girlfriend once told me about a guy

who had his cock tattooed. When it was soft and resting, you could read

the word  SmAll', but when it got coaxed to its full long length, it read

 Smooth, Firm and Wonderful for You All'." We both giggled for a

couple minutes. 



"Kind-of like that tongue, except that mine will probably stay close to that

4 inch length forever," I added.



Victoria now pleads, "Let me see your tongue-tattoo again,

pleeeezzzzeee."



Instead of only lowering that cup's flap, I reached behind me and

unhooked my bra strap letting *both* bloated balloons now tumble free,

while I teasingly swayed my hugely bloated belly left and right. 



"See, that tongue can do tricks," I tease with a wide grin.



Then, I picked up my right balloon with one hand, while running the other

slowly down the full length of that outlandish design. "See how that

tongue has gotten sooo much longer," I almost whispered to Victoria as I

moved that bloated balloon even closer to her. "See . . . . . . . ," I

emphatically added.



Victoria first stared at the funny tattoo, then smiled and laughed softly.

Her eyes widened, then locked onto both long reddish-brown distended

nipples, through her lust clouded daze. Very soon, I was enjoying a repeat

performance of before.



Surprisingly, it *only* took two tries to find a proper-fitting larger-sized

bra. Finally three hours after I had originally entered, I left not only with

three bras that fit ~~ perfectly, but also with having made a new "close"

friend. I may go back there again when these bras get too tight ~~ Victoria

certainly gives excellent service !!



                     * * * * *



So as you can see, the bloated breasts of a pregnant woman are a definite

turn-on to both men and women. In one case, the man was initially

attracted by my swollen wobbling orbs but liked other parts better, while

the woman *only* wanted my breasts. 



[End of Part 1d and all Part 1]