Advances, none miraculous

"Do you mind if I lift your shirt a little?"

She said nothing for a few long seconds and he thought he'd pushed too far. But then she moved on her own, pulling the white fabric from her waistband, upwards over her belly, and bunching it up along the crease between her breasts and stomach.

She looked up at him expectantly, and he was happy to return his hand. Discounting the handshake on the way here, this was the first time he touched her directly, skin to skin, and he loved everything about it. The burning heat of her skin. The way she relaxed under his ministrations. The casual way she'd exposed herself.

"You have beautiful skin," he told her honestly.

Though it had been stretched tight by her pregnancy, but he could not detect a single imperfection, not even stretch marks. Just a smooth, near-spherical ballooning of her belly. It was as if she'd been born for this, for being pregnant. "You look so gorgeous like this."

"T-thanks," she stammered.

"Oh, I just did it again, didn't I? Sorry, I don't mean to come off like some kind of creep all the time."

She bit her lip. "No, it's... it's OK. I... I don't mind."

"Really? You don't mind if I say that kind of thing to you?"

"No..."

"Well, then I hope this is OK, too: I love how big your belly is right now."

"Really?"

"God, yes. Look at you, you're gorgeous. I love touching your belly like this. I could rub it for days and never get tired of it."

"T-thank you..."

He grinned. He could hear the need in her voice. He'd never met a woman who didn't love to be complimented. And after months of growth and discomfort, of disapproving looks and social stigma... it was no wonder she was eating up his praise.

Unconsciously she slid down, fully at ease now, and he decided to push his luck. So far, everything he'd done could be rationalized as harmless. She'd been curious about his arm, he about her belly; there was nothing inherently erotic about that, right?

So when his hand brushed against her pelvis, inches from her snatch, she stiffened, knowing instinctively that they were on the cusp of something else entirely.

He looked her in the eyes, but did not remove his hand. In fact, he did the opposite and moved it lower still, his fingertips perilously close to danger.

"Samuel...?"

He smiled. "Relax, babygirl. I just want to make you feel good. I promise I won't hurt you, or do anything you don't want."

She said nothing.

"Do you want me to stop?"

He could see the conflict raging in her eyes. He genuinely had no intention of assaulting or **** her, and he tried to convey that fact with every fiber of his being. If she told him to, he would stop, period. And she knew she should. Everything about this was wrong. But her body was telling her something else entirely.

She shook her head. "N-no."

He slowly delved deeper, clasping his hand around her pussy. Her legs spread. Even through her jeans, he could feel the heat emanating from her private place.

"Nnnn..." she moaned.

"That's right, doesn't that feel good?"

"Mm-hm..."

There was no mistaking now what they were doing. They were having sex. But as pleasant as it was to paw her like this, after a little while, he pulled his hand away.

"Don't stop!" She whined.

Meeting her eyes, saying nothing, he pushed his fingertips underneath the waistband of her pants and slipped his hand inside.

"Ah!" She exclaimed as he worked his fingers into her panties and then down across her pussy. It was like a river down there, sticky girl juices leaking from her opening like a faucet.

"Naughty girl," he teased. "Do you always get this wet?"

She blushed fiercely. "Sh-shut up!"

He laughed. He dipped two fingertips between her swollen labia and traced upwards, seeking, and then finding her clit. She gasped, hips bucking. "Ahnn!"

"There you go, baby. Just lie back and enjoy."

He began rubbing her in earnest now, touching, rubbing, caressing every part of her pregnant pussy, but taking care not to touch her clit again until she was nearly hysterical with need. Then he suddenly focused all his attention on it.

The effect was immediate. She grasping his arm tightly, as if afraid he'd stop. "Yes! God, yes!"

She was getting close, he could tell. He considered teasing her some more, loving the way she begged, but decided against it and gave her what she so clearly needed.

He rubbed her harder with his thumb, letting his other fingers slip and slide across her labia, pulling and prodding them—always gently, but insistently. He dipped into her sheathe, pushing out yet more of her sloppy juices to seep into her panties and down into the crack of her ass.

Then she stiffened, and her legs spread shamelessly. "Ahhhnnn... Ohh... I'm..."

"That's it, baby," he whispered, pushing 2 fingers into her. "That's it, cum for me. Let me feel that sopping wet pregnant pussy squeeze around my fingers."

That did it. She came, jaws clenched, hips bucking, crying out loudly enough that he worried about the neighbors.

Her orgasm was brief but intense, just a handful of seconds, as if she could not maintain such intensity for long. Then she sagged, muscles slack.