Virginia and I continued to slip away whenever we could find the time just to be alone and outside the maelstrom of activity surrounding our wedding. One time we went back to Franz’s inn and received our usual room, but as we prepared for bed, Virginia started crying. I put my arms around her but that didn’t appear to help. She turned from me and told me not to look.
“Hey, honey, what do you mean ‘don’t look’? We’re going to be seeing each other for a lot of years to come.”
“Well, I’m just getting fat. I can see it – can’t you?”
“Honey, you’re going to have a baby. That’s new life growing inside you. You are definitely not fat; you’re beautiful. And, I love you very much. Come to bed and let me kiss your tears away.”
She smiled briefly, dried her tears, and slid into bed beside me. I turned so she could spoon up against my front. I could feel her shoulders tremble once in a while, but soon she quieted down. When her breathing began to slow and a tiny snore appeared I knew she was sound asleep. As I also fell asleep, I knew that this was going to be a young marriage but would defy critics and last for a very long time.
During the night we had both turned over so that now she was curled up against my back. I woke slowly and stretched carefully so as to not wake her. She did wake though and kissed me on the shoulder.
“I’m sorry I’m such a crybaby, Tom. I seem to be getting weepy all the time. My mom tells me she would start crying for no reason at all when she was carrying me.”
“Well, I don’t mind at all. You can cry any time you want. I can handle it.”
“Hey! Can I handle this?” She asked, closing her fingers tightly around my morning woody.
“You can handle anything of mine you heart desires my love. I am here to serve you.”
“My mom says we can still make love right up into the end of the seventh month. Then, we’ll have to stop. I think she was really embarrassed but she told me a couple of ways to help you along. I pretended not to know any of them. She said that if you stayed happy, things would go better.”
“Being here with you, in bed, in a wonderful little old inn, makes me just about as happy as I can get. You mean there’s more? Honey, if I were any happier I’d burst.”
“Yeah, I can tell,” she leaned forward to whisper in my ear while running her fingers up and down my manhood. “And here’s what seems the tightest.”
She lifted up on one elbow, pushed off with her lower arm and sat up with her knees against the small of my back. Once the covers were down around the bottom of the bed, she pulled on my shoulder until I lay back flat. My erection was once again the target of her ministration; only this time she didn’t use her fingers.
“Oh, baby, what you do to me,” I gasped in a hoarse voice.
“I hope so, and that it never changes. I thought I’d never be able to do this, but once you did it to me I felt how much pleasure it gave me I had to know what it did to you. Do you like it, or am I just being a slut?”
“Honey, I told you before that anyone who calls you a slut is in for a really brutal time. I love it.”
She resumed her actions to the accompaniment of soft groans, mews, and grunts of pleasure from both of us. She stopped a moment, readjusted her hips a little, and resumed. Now that she was bent over me, I could detect a slightly larger heft to her breasts. Certainly nothing deforming them, but an intangible ‘thing’ that made them even more attractive. Her soft stomach had also tightened somewhat. She was beginning to show.
When the groaning ceased, and things calmed down somewhat, I sighed deeply.
“Oh, my baby. There now, doesn’t that feel better?”
“Oh… yeah… that definitely feels better. And … now it’s your turn!”
We rearranged ourselves so that I could give her pleasure. When I kissed her gently below her navel, she groaned and began breathing hard.
“Oh, God. You know how that affects me, Tom!”
I know; that’s why I do it. To pleasure you. If you have to give up having me inside you for months, then the least I can do is show you what I’ll do for you. Fair enough?”
“Oh, yessssssss.” She hissed at me. “I feel far more sensitive than ever before. Do you suppose that happens to every pregnant girl?”
“I don’t know. I do know that it happens to you and that’s all I need to know. Now, shut up and enjoy.”
She lay back against the pillow, closed her eyes, and began to really enjoy my ministrations. When she had reached the point I desired, she gave in to her release completely.
I rose up and flopped down beside her on the pillow. When she turned and pressed against me I could feel that her nipples were still hard little nubbins. I touched one and she jumped.
“Woweee! Those are really sensitive right now.”
“I can understand why, it looks as if you’re beginning to produce a tiny bit of milk.”
“I am? Where?”
I pointed to her left nipple and, when she lifted the breast another tiny droplet of white appeared. She giggled and squeezed several more drops out. Then they stopped.
“No more. What’ll the poor nipper dine on?” I teased.
“I’ll have lots more from where that came from buster. You can bank on that. My mom said I’d probably have to wear pads to keep it from leaking out over my dresses and stuff.”
“And, as long as I’m making observations, let me say I think everything is taking shape nicely my soon-to-be bride. I also think that when we get back from our honeymoon you’d better have a nice maternity dress to wear.”
“What? Shaping up where?”
“Very nicely,” I repeated. “Right here.”
I placed my palm against the swell of her lower breasts and moved it in a circular motion downwards and across her tummy. Her muscles rippled wherever my hand touched. She was getting sensitive there also. My mom had contributed that bit of lore one evening. She could also tell, when looking at her stomach at the angle we both were, that she was indeed ‘getting fat’.
“Well, crap. I am filling out aren’t I?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way my love. Now, let’s shower and hit the road for home. While we’re at it, we might see if there is any way we can make love and not be so damn noisy at it. My brother will be sleeping right next door to us soon.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” she said, reddening across the throat at the thought. Maybe he’ll just think it’s a bad dream.”
“No chance of that. He may be young, but he’s not that young. Besides, I think our most tender moments are slow and easy, not jumping and crashing together. Now, get up wench!”
I slapped her on the butt and she jumped out of bed almost horizontally with a yelp of feigned pain.
“You should be more careful of the merchandise you know.”
“Yeah, but I’ve already decided to buy it.”
“Smooth talker,” she whispered as she closed the door to the bathroom.
© Copyright 2016 Tom Oldman. All rights reserved.
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