Overflowing

The weeks rolled by, and with each one, my body transformed more. My belly rounded further, a proud curve beneath every dress and shirt, and my breasts—already full—grew heavier, more sensitive, more demanding with every passing day.

I gave up on bras completely. Nothing fit. Even soft ones dug into my ribs or left angry red marks across my shoulders. All I could wear were sundresses—thin-strapped, stretchy, flowy things that did nothing to hide the full, lush weight of my breasts. They strained against the fabric, nipples often visible, outlined and dark with sensitivity. Every shift of the dress sent ripples of sensation through me, my body constantly alive and electric.

Ethan noticed. God, did he notice.

He brought gifts home like it was a ritual. A delicate necklace with a pendant shaped like a crescent moon. Baby socks in absurdly tiny sizes. A plush blanket he said reminded him of how I smelled after a bath—clean, soft, comforting. But nothing compared to how he looked at me, especially when desire lit his eyes.

One evening, I stood in the bedroom in one of those sundresses, brushing out my hair. The fabric clung to the swell of my belly and draped low across my chest. Ethan leaned in the doorway, watching me like a man starved.

“You’re driving me insane,” he said, eyes locked on the outline of my breasts. “Every time you move, every time that dress clings like that... you have no idea what you do to me.”

I smiled, feeling his gaze ignite something low and molten in me. “Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

He crossed the room in two strides and tugged the thin straps down. The fabric slipped off my shoulders like silk, baring my heavy, flushed breasts. His hands lifted them, reverent and hungry. The weight of them, the sheer sensitivity, made my breath hitch.

When he lowered his mouth and drew one nipple in, I gasped—part pleasure, part surprise. A warm bead of milk welled at the tip, and he pulled back, eyes wide.

I flushed. “Sorry... that’s been happening a little lately.”

His pupils blew wide, not with hesitation, but fascination.

“Don’t apologize,” he said hoarsely. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He bent again, slower this time, mouth teasing, tongue flicking, suckling gently. I shuddered, a moan slipping from my lips as sensation pulsed through me, hips rocking against his thigh.

The bed caught us soon after, his body sliding between my legs, lifting my thighs as he eased his large dick inside me. Full. Deep. Consuming. The tension in me unraveled instantly. My body welcomed him with a readiness that had become almost constant since the second trimester kicked in. Every touch, every slow thrust sent sparks dancing down my spine.

His hands gripped my hips, caressed the swell of my belly, teased the sides of my breasts again until more milk beaded out and his mouth found me once more.

“I love this,” he murmured between thrusts. “Your body... this pregnancy... the way you look at me like you need me... I’m addicted to you.”

We moved together in a rhythm that was wild and reverent, my legs wrapped around him, our bodies sticky with sweat and leaking milk and pure, unfiltered desire. The feeling of being so desired, so full, so claimed—it pushed me over the edge fast and hard. My cries were muffled in his mouth as I clenched tight around him.

He followed with a groan so deep it vibrated in his chest, collapsing onto me with a kiss to my shoulder and a whispered promise: “Forever. You and me.”

Later, tangled together, his head rested against my chest, one hand on my belly, the other lazily stroking my thigh. He nuzzled a still-sensitive nipple, smiling when another drop appeared.

“I could stay like this forever.”

“You’ll have to,” I murmured, sleepy, satisfied. “Because this dress isn’t surviving another week.”

He laughed, pulling me closer, and I felt the tiniest flutter inside me—the baby responding to the warmth between us.

We fell asleep skin to skin, his body wrapped around mine like a vow he didn’t need to say aloud.

And the next night—and the next—the fire only burned hotter. My body overflowed with life. And Ethan? He couldn’t get enough.