9 months pregnant Asian lady - Sex Stories

9 months pregnant Asian lady

9 p.m. on a Friday in January. I stepped off the train. It was bitter cold. I decided to get a drink before I made the walk to my car and the drive home. As I walked into the pub I immediately noticed two things about the young girl sitting at the bar. She was Asian. That was a rarity in itself. And she was really, really pregnant. Back to the first thing: she had long silky hair down her back and nice legs – she was wearing a navy dress that went to her knees, ugly floral maternity top with a navy jacket over it, kind of “nude” hose and dark black framed glasses. Except for her pregnant belly she had a slender body. I offered her a drink. She laughed and then I realized my mistake. To her left was an Asian guy. “I’m sorry,” I said, “is this your husband? I’ll buy him a drink too to make up for my rudeness.” She looked at him and then back at me and laughed again. “You can buy him another shot of Patron. I’m having Sprite. I’m the designated driver.” I ordered two Patrons and we sat in awkward silence. The shots came, we clicked our glasses and poured it back. She turned to look at me, and as she did her knee pressed into my thigh: “How far back is September 17?” she asked me. I thought about it. “It’s a good two-and-a-half months,” I said. “Right,” she said. “Maybe a good two-and-a-half-months for you,” she said. “Bad 10 weeks for me.” “Sorry to hear that,” I said. “How come?” “It was the last time I got laid.” “Oh,” I said to her. “Sorry.” To the bartender I said: “Two ...

... more.” “Why is that,” I asked. “Medical orders?” She shook her head. “My husband’s all freaked out about hurting the baby. After I hit the six-and-a-half month mark he won’t touch me. . . down there” “That’s crazy,” I said, sympathetically as my hand dropped to her knee. She didn’t move it. “When are you due,” I asked, trying to change the subject. “Next week,” she said. “And then the doctor says it’ll be six weeks after that before I can have sex. “So that would be like . . . .” I was trying to count in my head. “Too fucking long,” she whispered into her Sprite. “Getting him d***k then, huh?” I asked. Two more Patrons had arrived and I raised my glass at him and we drank. “Wouldn’t do any good,” she said. “Aw, damn,” I said in my most sympathetic voice. “No one should treat a beautiful girl like that. It’s not gonna hurt the baby,” I said. My hand was running up and down her upper calf now. It felt really nice. “Not that he has any problem getting head from me,” she snarled. I decided to intervene directly and looked across at him: “Dude! You hear her. Take her home and do what she wants, just be gentle.” She laughed. “Oh he’s going to. But he’s not my husband.” “Sheeeit!” I said out loud. “You want to come too?” she asked. I tried to say “yes,” “ya!” and “sure!” all at once. She got the point. She said to the two of us: “Parked out front is a mini van. Go wait inside. I’ll be out in about 20 minutes.” Right in front of the bar was a gold Honda Odyssey. The engine was running. ...