Morning Kickstart: Pregnancy Pleasure

The rain hammered against the windows, mirroring the frantic rhythm of my heart. Gabe, my husband, my rock, my everything, lay beside me, a dark silhouette against the pale blue sheets. We’d been watching television, a mindless distraction from the insistent thrumming within my belly, when it started – a sharp, undeniable kick. Gabe jolted, his eyes snapping open, a flicker of awareness igniting within them. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but tonight, the timing felt…different. Charged.

He sat up slowly, pulling the covers higher around himself, as if shielding himself from the world. His gaze drifted down, lingering on my body, tracing the swell of my pregnancy, taking in the curve of my hips, the fullness of my breasts. His eyes widened slightly, a slow, deliberate appraisal that sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn’t just lust; there was a possessiveness there, a claiming of what was rightfully his.

“Jessica,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, “what are you staring at?”

“Just admiring you,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper. My fingers brushed across his chest, feeling the solid mass of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. The scent of his skin, a potent blend of sandalwood and musk, filled my senses. I leaned in closer, pulling back slightly as he opened his mouth to speak.

“You know I can see you looking,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. He reached out, his hand finding my cheek, gently tilting my head until I was looking directly into his eyes. His fingers traced the curve of my jawline, sending a delicious tingle through my skin. “You’re a beautiful, pregnant woman, you know.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. A slow smile spread across my face. “And you’re a beautiful man, Gabe. A very handsome man.” I pushed him slightly, savoring the heat of his body against mine.

“Is someone horny?” I teased, my voice dripping with playful provocation.

“I don’t know, don’t you find out?” He smirked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. The air crackled with unspoken desire. I shifted, nestling closer, feeling the reassuring weight of his arm around my waist. The kicks intensified, a frantic reminder of the life growing within me.

“Let’s play a game,” I suggested, my voice soft and suggestive. “Something to take our minds off things.”

“Sounds nice,” he replied, his voice deepening, his eyes never leaving mine. “You pick.”

“Rock, paper, scissors,” I said, a mischievous glint in my eyes. The thought of a playful wager, a little bit of challenge, was a welcome distraction.

We began, the silence punctuated by the frantic kicks and the soft rustle of the sheets. The game escalated, the stakes rising with each round. As we progressed, a primal heat began to build between us, fueled by the proximity of our bodies and the intense desire that now consumed us.

“You lost the last one,” he stated, his voice laced with a hint of triumph. “You’ll have to make love to me without touching yourself.”

The words hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation rolled into one. It was a test of my control, a tantalizing prospect that made my pulse quicken. I nodded, my eyes locked on his, a silent agreement passing between us. I pushed him away, my hands trembling slightly, as he pulled off his shirt, revealing the sculpted perfection of his physique. The sight of his abs, honed by countless hours in the gym, sent a fresh wave of heat through me. He turned to face me, his eyes blazing with anticipation.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

“Let’s do it,” I replied, my voice barely audible. I took his hand, pulling him closer until our bodies were pressed together, the heat radiating from his skin igniting my senses. We began, slowly at first, exploring each other's bodies, savoring the touch, the taste, the scent. The kicks continued, a constant reminder of the life within me, adding another layer of intensity to the scene.

As we progressed, the game took on a new dimension. Each loss resulted in a removal of clothing, peeling away layers of inhibition, stripping away any semblance of restraint. First, his boxers, then his shirt, leaving me exposed, vulnerable, and utterly consumed by his desire. The rain continued to pound against the windows, a rhythmic accompaniment to our passionate dance.

“You’ve lost six out of seven,” he said, his voice a low murmur against my ear. “Time to get serious.” He pushed me onto his lap, pulling me closer, his weight pressing into me, a welcome sensation that sent shivers down my spine. His hands began to explore my body, starting at my breasts, tracing the curves of my nipples, teasing me with their touch.

“Oh, Gabe,” I moaned, my voice a desperate plea. “You’re driving me wild.”

“Just wait,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. He continued his assault, escalating the pace, pushing me further and further into the edge of pleasure. The kicks intensified, becoming more frequent, more insistent, a frantic plea from the life growing within me.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, licking my breast, sending waves of pleasure through my body. “You make me want you more and more.” He pulled back slightly, his eyes devouring mine. “Let’s keep this going.”

As the game progressed, the boundaries blurred, the line between pleasure and pain dissolving into a single, intoxicating sensation. The rain continued its relentless assault, mirroring the storm raging within me. Finally, with a final push, I broke through the barrier, releasing a torrent of pleasure that left me gasping for breath.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, pulling me closer, his lips brushing against my wetness. “You’re incredible.” He took my hand, pulling me up and onto his face. The world faded away as we continued our passionate exchange, lost in the depths of our shared desire. The rain continued to fall, washing away the remnants of our inhibitions, leaving behind only the raw, primal need that had brought us together.

When we finally separated, breathless and spent, I looked down at my naked body, feeling the lingering warmth of his touch, the memory of his kisses, the undeniable evidence of our shared pleasure. I smiled, a satisfied curve of my lips. The kicks had stopped, replaced by a gentle, rhythmic pulsing, a reminder of the life growing within me, a testament to our love, our passion, and our shared desire.

“Now you’ve got some pleasure to give,” he said, his voice husky with pleasure. “Let’s see if you can keep up.” The game continued, pushing us further and further into the depths of our pleasure, until we collapsed together, exhausted but satisfied, the rain still pounding against the windows, a constant reminder of the storm that had passed, leaving behind only the lingering scent of desire and the promise of more to come.

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