Contemporary, Pregnancy

Word Count:


Derek and Deanna are expecting their first baby. The pregnancy hormones have pushed her libido into overdrive, and Derek can hardly keep up with her constant demands for sex when he needs sleep. To make matters worse, his mother insists on meddling—giving Deanna unsolicited advice, buying unwanted items for baby, and being an all-around pain in the neck. With all the pressure, Derek isn’t sure if he’ll make it to the birth of the baby, but the sex makes it all worthwhile. 

Excerpt (PG-13):

“Remember, coaches. You need to be an active participant through the stages of labor. It’s your job to keep Mom in her Peaceful Place.” That soothing tone was going to drive me frickin’ insane. “Labor progresses much quicker if Mom is relaxed.”

“Deanna, continue to relax, and tell us all about your Peaceful Place,” the nurse told my wife. Deanna took another slow, deep breath before she started to talk, keeping her eyes closed. I felt her body tense up between my legs. We had flown under the radar for the last five weeks, and we thought we had dodged the “sharing” bullet. Shit.

“My Peaceful Place is the resort in Tahiti where we stayed on our trip last February.”

I knew she wouldn’t get away with that.

“That sounds very peaceful, Deanna. Tell us about it. What color is the water in your Peaceful Place? Are you on the beach or floating in the pool? Breathe . . . in . . . and out . . . in . . . and out . . .” The teenager across from me snorted out loud, and the rest of the guys snickered a little.

“Oh, grow up,” snapped the teenager’s young baby mama. The rest of the moms started shushing their men, too, and for a second, I thought Deanna was off the hook.

“Deanna. Describe it for us. Share the peace you find in this place.”

Not off the hook. Shit.

She tensed up again and said quickly, “We stayed in one of those little huts over the water. It was green and clear and beautiful. I spent hours just floating on the water while Derek read his book and drank beer.”

“There you go,” the nurse crooned. “Focus on the peaceful feeling of floating on the water. Keep breathing. Your Peaceful Place will be very helpful during a long labor. Relaxing your whole body will allow your cervix to open right up and let your baby out.” 

If I never heard the word “cervix” again, it would be too soon.

The nurse finally moved on to someone else, and once again, I whispered into Deanna’s ear, “How come you didn’t mention the part about makin’ the baby? That’s the best part. You remember. You watched the fish swim by while my sperm swam inside you.” I felt her giggle and then relax, and I rubbed my hands over her swollen belly. After a moment, I was rewarded with a swift kick to my left hand from our little munchkin.

Another of Nurse McCarthy’s victims was describing an idyllic little spot in the forest where all you could hear was the tweeting of little birdies and the rustling of the foliage. A glance at the other fathers told me that most of them were thinking what I was thinking—that would indeed be a Peaceful Place, if you were in a tree stand holding a shotgun. 

My mind wandered to the last buck I had gotten, three years ago. It was an eight-pointer with a twenty-inch spread. Not the biggest I’ve ever bagged.  I got a ten pointer once when I was a teenager. His head was hanging on the wall in my father’s basement.

“. . . cervix continues to dilate.” Crap. There was that word again. I tried harder to pay attention. 

Nurse McCarthy started again.  “As we saw last week, transition is the most painful stage of labor, but the good news is that it is the shortest.”

Deanna sucked in a deep breath. We had talked about how she was planning to manage the pain. The thought of a needle in her back made her want to puke, so an epidural was out. I had a feeling she’d change her mind when that “transition” hit, but I kept my mouth shut. The can of pregnant-lady whoop ass was as big as her belly these days. I didn’t need her opening it on me.

Both of our mothers were pressuring her to “say no to drugs.” Her mother had natural childbirth for both of her kids, and she was putting a little extra pressure on Deanna. My mother had C-sections because both of her kids were breech, so she felt it was important that her grandchild be born the natural way to make up for it. I didn’t care whether she had an epidural or not, as long as my son or daughter came out okay without killing her. And if her friend at work bragged one more time about being in labor for a day and a half with no meds, I swear, I was going to—

“Your Peaceful Place will keep you relaxed and help you continue to dilate through the transition stage. You don’t want to panic, that just makes it harder,” Nurse explained. “Coaches, this is where your Peaceful Place Wallpaper homework assignment comes in. Remember last week, I told the coaches it was their job to find a photograph that would put Mom in her Peaceful Place and set that as the wallpaper on both of your cellphones. Let’s see those cell phones now.”

Shit. I didn’t do that. Thank god I took some of the pictures of the trip on my phone. I found the one of Deanna swimming near the lounge hut and set my wallpaper before Nurse caught me. There was some guy in the picture, but I knew Deanna’s Peaceful Place was in the pale green water. I could always crop the guy out tonight when we got home.

“Your contractions are coming less than a minute apart. You feel like you’re starting to panic. Like you’re not getting a break before the next contraction starts. You might be starting to feel like you need some pain relief. That’s okay. It’s too late for an epidural, but don’t forget the other options we discussed.

“Coaches, keep an eye on Mom. Remind her to breathe deeply. Reassure her. She’ll probably tell you that she can’t do it. Remind her that she can.” Her voice was grating on my last nerve, like an elementary-school violin player.

“And now it’s time for the Peaceful Place Wallpaper. Give Mom your phone. Now. Mom, look at your Peaceful Place. Are you there? Breathe in . . . and out . . . in . . . out.”

Sexcerpt (XXX if available): 

I fought to stay awake while she rambled.

“I wish I knew, babe. I’ve never given birth before.” I didn’t add that she has no tolerance for pain, so I thought it be a freakin’ miracle if she was able to push this kid out without some kind of pain meds.

She switched gears to horny, pregnant-lady mode. She propped herself up with her mountain of pillows, facing me. She reached under my t-shirt and rubbed my nipple for a moment. Her fingers trailed south, tickling her way down.

“Babe, I’m sorry. I have to get up early in the morning, and I’m exhausted. Can we finish this tomorrow?”

She glared at me for a moment before she spoke. “Fine.” She rolled away from me, obviously pissed.

“I have to get up in the morning. You can sleep in. I’m sorry.” Not the right thing to say, but I could hardly form words, I was so tired.

“I have a meeting online at eight. Just because I work from home doesn’t mean I sleep all day, you know.” She was silent for a moment before she tried another tactic. “How ‘bout I give you a blow job?”

Oh, my god, she was desperate. I figured my best option would be to say yes. I’d get off with no effort on my part, and she wouldn’t be able to talk with her mouth full of cock. Win-win.

I pulled off my boxers, kicking them to the floor. As I rolled onto my side, my soft cock flopped down toward the bed. “Got your work cut out for you, babe. I’m not even hard.”

“Mmm . . . I love it when you get hard in my mouth. I don’t get that too often.”  She struggled to turn onto her side. 

One thing I had recently learned about the pregnant body was the baby bump was pretty solid, and it didn’t have much give to it. I had always assumed that pregnant women moved awkwardly just because their bellies were heavy. Deanna had finally gotten me to understand by demonstrating with a basketball under my shirt.

“Now try sitting up,” she’d instructed, as she held the basketball tightly against my stomach.  I flopped like a fish. “See how the ball doesn’t give? It doesn’t redistribute like fat does? It doesn’t bend with you? It just pushes into your stomach.” 

I’d nodded. At least I could still move my head.

“Now imagine the ball bigger and on the inside and with arms and legs pushing on your internal organs. Do you get it?” I just about did.

Now I helped her turn around so that her head was toward the foot of the bed, and she was on her side in line with my cock. This pseudo-sixty-nine position worked well for both of us. 

“I don’t expect any reciprocation from you tonight, you know.” She had her pajamas on, so I hadn’t even considered giving her any oral action. I nudged her lips with my cock, hoping it would make her stop talking.

She stuck out her long tongue and licked the tip of my cock. Her tongue was warm and wet, and it got my attention. She closed her mouth over the head and licked at the slit, trying to coax some pre-cum out of the tip. I took a deep breath, feeling a stab of pleasure shoot from the tip of my cock, down deep into my balls as I stiffened.

My wife could give a blow job, that was for sure. She took me in, all the way to the root of my cock and licked from the base to the tip. Deanna gave a throaty chuckle as I hardened fully, filling her mouth. Up and down, over and over. She moved her head toward my pelvis and began fucking me with her mouth. My cock slid in and out over her tongue as she started to swirl it, just under the head. She traced circle after circle right on my sweet spot, her rough taste buds rubbing heat into my privates.

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