Pregnant Desires: A Wet Trimester

The rain hammered against the windows of our small suburban home, a relentless rhythm mirroring the frantic beat of my own heart. It had been six months since the doctor confirmed the pregnancy, six months since my world tilted on its axis, six months since the familiar comfort of our life together began to feel… distant. With the first pregnancy, the anticipation had been a tangible thing, a bubbling excitement that fueled my desire, pushing me to explore every corner of pleasure with my husband, Mark. But now, nearing the end of my second trimester, that fire had dwindled, leaving behind only a smoldering ember of longing. Mark was constantly on the road for his work, a regional sales manager for a logistics company, and the distance gnawed at us both. We'd tried everything – late-night phone calls, shared virtual dates, even a few awkward, desperate encounters where the intimacy felt forced and strained. But nothing seemed to ignite the spark we once shared.

Then I stumbled upon Seven Months Horny, a collection of stories detailing the struggles and triumphs of other women experiencing a similar lack of libido during pregnancy. The tales were raw, honest, and unapologetically explicit, and as I devoured each narrative, a strange heat began to build within me, a primal yearning that had been dormant for far too long. I decided to reach out to the anonymous author, MH, and share my predicament, hoping for a little guidance. It wasn’t long before I received a response, a single line of text: “Let me help you get your mojo back.”

The first message sent a jolt of electricity through my system. It felt like a lifeline thrown into the dark depths of my discontent. Over the next few days, MH sent me a series of increasingly provocative texts, each one designed to awaken the dormant desire within me. “Your pussy is swollen and begging for attention,” one read. “Imagine the feeling of his hands tracing the curves beneath your clothes, then ripping them open to unleash the pleasure you crave.” Another simply stated: “Tell me exactly what you want, and I’ll find a way to make it happen.” The thrill of anticipation, the forbidden nature of these messages, ignited a fire within me that I hadn't felt in months.

As I waited for Mark to return from his trip, my thoughts swirled with fantasies of our reunion. The idea of reconnecting with him in such an intimate way, fueled by the desperate need for release, felt both exhilarating and terrifying. When he finally arrived, exhausted but eager, I greeted him with a long, lingering kiss, savoring the familiar scent of his cologne and the warmth of his touch. But I held back on words, letting the silence hang heavy in the air, a silent invitation to the passion that simmered beneath the surface.

Hearing the water turn on in the bathroom was the signal I needed. Without a word, I shed my dress, letting it fall to the floor in a heap, and pulled my hair back into a messy bun. The cool water of the shower washed over me, intensifying the heat rising within my body. As I climbed in, I took his hand, our fingers interlacing, a silent acknowledgment of the desire we both shared. I leaned against the tile wall, giving him a slow, deliberate kiss before positioning myself on the ledge, my legs dangling freely.

Taking his erect penis into my mouth, I began to suck with a desperate, ravenous hunger. The initial shock of the cold against my lips quickly gave way to a wave of intense pleasure, each suck and swallow driving me further into ecstasy. Mark moaned, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through my core, making me even more aroused. As he grew harder, I shifted my grip, pulling his balls gently but firmly, massaging them with my fingertips, then brushing against his rear end with the tip of my tongue, eliciting a fresh wave of moans and tremors. The water pounding against the shower walls seemed to amplify our sensations, creating a symphony of pleasure that drowned out all other thoughts.

The insistent rhythm of his arousal filled me with a primal urge, and as he reached his peak, I felt a desperate need to taste his cum. Without hesitation, I kept my mouth firmly attached to his head, moaning with delight as he unleashed his seed into my waiting mouth. The salty, potent fluid coated my tongue, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine. I continued to suck and swallow, savoring every drop, lost in the intoxicating sensation. The feeling of his body shaking against mine, the heat of his skin against my own, was overwhelming, a potent reminder of the connection we had once shared.

As the last drops of cum drained from his body, he pulled away, panting heavily. He grabbed my big tits, pulling them down and rubbing them vigorously against his chest, a familiar gesture that always made me melt. The cool water still cascaded over us, intensifying the heat of our bodies, and I closed my eyes, lost in the aftermath of our shared pleasure.

Knowing that we couldn’t return to our usual routine just yet, we made a pact to revisit this moment later that night. Mark left to start dinner, leaving me alone in the shower, savoring the lingering scent of his arousal and the memory of our passionate encounter. The thought of waiting until he returned sent a fresh wave of anticipation through me, but the memory of the sheer, unadulterated pleasure we had experienced together was already enough to sustain me.

As the hours passed, I continued to explore my body, relishing the sensations, letting the heat build within me, knowing that the next time we would share this experience, it would be even more intense. The rain continued to fall outside, a constant reminder of the isolation I had felt, but inside, I felt a sense of liberation, a renewed connection to my own body and the primal instincts that had been dormant for so long.

When Mark finally returned, he found me still in the shower, my body glistening with water, my eyes closed in ecstasy. He smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes, and took my hand, pulling me out of the shower and into his arms. He leaned down and kissed me deeply, a silent promise of more intimate moments to come. The story of Seven Months Horny had opened a door for me, a doorway to a deeper understanding of my own desires and the power of touch and connection. And as I lay in his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against mine, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey back to intimacy.

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