After the Winery 

It was easy to pick out Steph and Josh in the crowd milling in front of the
winery. Though she was my best friend through college, I hadn't seen her for
five years or so, since Josh got that job in Boston and they moved East to get
married.  Her hair had gotten longer, and Josh had a beard, but I didn't even
notice those.

What I did notice was that my skinny, petite friend was now curvy and round in
every direction.  When we had arranged this trip together last spring, she
didn't know she was already two months pregnant.  Now here she was, almost
eight months along, and she stuck out of the crowd like a bride at a barbecue.

"Steph, you look GREAT!" I screamed, trying to get my arms around her back to
hug her.  Paul pumped Josh's hand and congratulated him, and gave Steph an
enormous bear hug.  I greeted Paul with a cordial kiss.  I love Steph to bits,
and Paul and Josh are buds from way back, but I've never been that comfortable
with him; it's the only coolness in our little foursome.

We'd been inseparable in college and our early adult years afterwards.  The
four of us had lived together in various combinations, spent long weekends
rambling around Northern California, skiing and vacationing together.  Then
everybody started getting married, and we did too.  Stephanie and Josh were
now the first ones to take the next big life-changing step and start a family.

I envied her.  It had taken me a couple of years to get Paul open to the idea
of having kids.  He was an only child, and didn't really get it about
families; I came from a big Italian family of brothers, sisters, and cousins,
and had long since been left behind in the baby derby by my older sisters and
brothers.  But now that Steph had joined in I really started to feel lonely. I
wasn't exactly pressuring Paul, but he knew I was ready.

And I envied Steph for another reason.  She and Paul had dated a little before
he met me, and I knew he always had a little thing for her.  And looking at
her now I knew he must just be going nuts.  Everything about her just
sparkled.  They say that pregnant women just have a glow, and I have to tell
you, most of the time by the eighth month that glow is a dull luster at best.
My sisters looked like wrecks by the seventh month--swollen ankles, varicose
veins, flat hair--but Steph was just radiant.

She was in a black spaghetti strap dress that she never would have worn
before.  I'd never seen her in anything with a neckline lower than a tee
shirt, but she was all bare shoulders and breasts.  And the breasts were quite
a surprise.  She was almost spilling out of the top of the dress and had
cleavage where she'd really had nothing before.  And her roundness was echoed
by her swelling belly.  She carried it all in front; from the back you almost
couldn't tell she was pregnant.  She looked like she belonged this way, and if
she was uncomfortable with the weight or her shape, her walk and her carriage
did not betray it.

"It's so great to be here, I've been looking forward to this all summer," she
said.  We had agreed to meet at one of our favorite wineries, then hit another
couple, have a picnic lunch, then do a few more before finding the house we'd
rented for the weekend.  "I'm sorry we had to cancel the bike trip tomorrow. I
just didn't know that I'd be like this" -- putting both hands on her belly and
laughing.

Paul couldn't keep his eyes off her.  I watched him as we went in.  I was
surprised to see how attentive he was being to her -- opening doors for her,
taking her hand down steps.  She was doing fine herself, but for some reason
her condition had brought out all the chivalry in him.

Josh, on the other hand, looked like he'd rather be somewhere else.  He got
our tour passes and ushered us into the cool stone building.  At the first
tasting, he carried on about the wine as if he'd been studying up on it for an
exam.  When his wife sniffed her glass and brought it to her lips, he shot her
a glance that was almost commanding, and she put the glass down.

"I know I shouldn't drink, and I won't, but you go on, tell me how it is."  We
worked our way through the whites, then on to the reds, finishing with a sweet
dessert wine.  It was like nectar on my tongue as I rolled it around.  I
looked over at Steph and saw just the briefest flash of frustration on her
brow; then she composed herself and we moved on to the next winery.

- - - - -

The sun was starting to go down as we hauled the groceries up the two flights
to the front door of the rental house.  Turning around we saw the scrubby
hills of the Napa Valley glowing green and gold, with the vineyards laid out
in neat rows below.  "How did you get a place like this?" Josh asked Paul.
"Some friends of mine had rented it last year, and they got me in touch with
the owner.  It's not through an agency, you have to know someone.  They really
liked the privacy -- they said it was like living here, not like staying in a
hotel."  He was right about that.  There wasn't another house for a quarter
mile.  From the decks surrounding the house you could see in all directions,
but nobody could get close enough to see you.

The sense of space continued inside.  The living room had a couple of sofa
combinations in little clusters under a high beamed ceiling.  The kitchen and
dining room were off to the back.  An open staircase behind the free-standing
fireplace led up to the upstairs balcony and the bedrooms.

First we took the groceries to the kitchen, Paul, Josh, and I doing the
hauling, and Steph trailing behind.  She'd automatically picked up the heavier
sack with the wine bottles, but Josh had given her another of those looks, and
taken it himself.  Unpacking the groceries, we put the weekend's supplies in
the 'fridge and pantry, leaving out the makings of tonight's dinner.

We all love to cook, and cooking together is about as intimate a thing as the
four of us can do together.  After all these years we know each others'
specialties and tastes, and a meal is like a string quartet of flavors and
textures.  Paul put on water for pasta while Josh started sauteeing vegetables
and fresh Italian sausage in olive oil and minced garlic.  I tore the lettuce
for the salad while Steph put a double boiler on the stove and started melting
chocolate for her signature dessert, a pot du creme.

The smells mingled in the smallish kitchen as we moved from station to
station.  As we passed, Josh would trail his hand across my butt, or steal a
quick kiss.  (I also couldn't help noticing how he'd stare at Steph's boobs.)
The guys worked together on the pasta and talked about their jobs, and Steph
and I talked about her pregnancy.

I asked how it had been going, and she was ebullient.  "I'm really surprised
about how fulfilled I feel.  I mean, there are parts that are just a pain. But
it's funny, I don't wallow in them.  I had a little morning sickness early on,
that mostly went away a couple months ago.  And of course I have to pee
nineteen times a day.  But sometimes I just lie around, watching my belly to
see the little kicks and pokes -- my OB can actually tell an elbow from a knee
-- and I just feel like I should have done this years ago."

At dinner more wine flowed, but of course Steph's glass was empty.  And she
ate her pasta plain, without the deep wine-red sauce her husband had simmered
-- she said that the acid of the tomatoes made her stomach act up.  And at
dessert, we spooned the heavy, dark-brown chocolate cream and let it sit on
our tongues, except for Steph.  Uncooked egg yolks, she said, her OB wouldn't let
her eat them.  She glanced at Josh again as she told us.

After dinner was cleaned up, Paul went out to fire up the hot tub.  We'd had
one at one of our post-student houses and it had been a long time since we'd
all been in one together.  Josh and Paul changed out on the deck, while Steph
and I went upstairs to find our suits.

I came out in my unexciting Speedo one-piece, designed more for doing laps
than turning heads, and was surprised to see Steph come out of her room in a
tiger-print bikini!  "I really didn't want to spend a lot of money on a suit
that I'd just wear once, and this was all they had that would fit me," she
confessed.  But it was hard to see what "fit" meant.  There was so much of her
pregnant belly that you couldn't even see the bottoms, and the bra cups
presented her newly-bulging boobs like fresh peaches in a basket.  Again I had
a twinge of jealousy, knowing that Paul probably wouldn't look at me for the
next hour.  But the good part, I mused to myself, was that when I did get him
alone, he'd be ready for me!

Steph trailed her toes in the steaming water while Paul, Josh, and I had a
good soak.  Paul was sitting opposite Steph, staring right at her roundness.
Even though hot tubs usually keep him down, I could start to see his suit
tenting a little -- Steph was clearly driving him nuts with her fertile body.
But Josh had had a little more wine, and was warning her even about keeping
her feet in the tub.  "It's all right, honey, I'm not going to boil the baby
just by sticking my feet in," she said, with more than a little exasperation.

After a while I thought that Paul had had enough goggling and was ready for
some action.  I floated across through the bubbles and gently squeezed his
cock, licking my top teeth just a little.  He looked from Steph to me, back at
Steph, then caught himself and said, "Well, I think I'm cooked and it's time
to dry off.  Breakfast at the Grill tomorrow?"

A little goodnight small talk, some perfunctory toweling off and we headed
upstairs.  Josh and Steph got the room with the en suite bathroom, so Paul and
I had to use the tiny one down the balcony hall from our room.  I went first
and Paul went off to our bedroom.  In the bathroom, after a quick shower, I
dabbed a little of that perfume Paul likes so much on my neck, in my cleavage,
and on the tops of my thighs.  I mechanically reached for my diaphragm, then
caught myself.  It's the fifteenth day.  I'd been counting, and this was the
first day of my fertile cycle.  Paul and I had talked about the idea of
starting this weekend, but we really hadn't agreed on it.  But thinking of
Steph, how great she looked, what joy she was getting out of being pregnant,
and how aroused she'd made my husband pretty much did it for me -- tonight was
the night.

I snuck back to the room, with just a thin cotton bathrobe on.  Paul was lying
on the bed, face up, and already naked; his firm cock lay on his stomach, the
tip touching his belly button.  I climbed onto the end of the bed and took one
big toe in my mouth and sucked it for a second, then repeated it with the
other.  His cock twitched a little and started to rise from its repose.  As I
worked my way up his leg I said, "You're not wearing anything."  "Mmmh hmmnh,"
he answered.  "I'm not wearing anything."  "Mmmmmmmmm."  I was trailing my
nipples along his knees and up his thighs.  I took a breath.  "And I'm not
wearing anything inside, either..."  "Mmmmm....goodie." he said.

I nearly creamed right then.  For a year I'd waited for this moment, to ask
him to do more than just make love to me, but to put life into me, and I'd
always worried how I'd take it when he said he wasn't ready.  But he was
clearly ready, and I leapt on his cock and drew it into my mouth, rolling the
head around with my tongue as I reached up to trail my fingers through the
hair on his chest.  "So we're starting tonight? You want me to get pregnant
like Steph?"  "Honey, I would really enjoy that," he said.  "Did she turn you
on?  Do you wonder how big my boobs are going to get?  How round I'll be?" I
kept sliding up his body, and fastened my mouth onto his left nipple. "Babe, I
want nothing more than that."

Totally wet from these words, I slid my cunt onto his slippery, erect cock and
squeezed.  His back arched and his shoulders came up off the mattress as I
drew myself up, then gently squeezed down again.  As a girl I'd done some
horseback riding, and every time I was on top with Paul I felt like I was
posting, riding him with my knees as he plunged up into me.

"Honey, I'm getting close," he said, and grasped my torso with both hands,
Deftly he turned us over so he was on top, and planted his mouth on my neck.
Then he thrust into me once, twice, then exploded, thrusting four or five
times more as he filled me with his seed, and collapsing on me.  We stayed
there for a few minutes, coupled and clasped, as we caught our breath.

After a few minutes of murmured "I love yous," he threw on his bathrobe to go
down the hall and shower.  I propped a pillow under my hips, tilting my vagina
back so the cum would pool at my cervix, the way the books said I should do
it.  I hadn't had an orgasm, and was still horny as hell, but I was more
fulfilled than I'd ever been by intercourse.  I ran my hands over my flat
belly, wondering what it would feel like when it was round and taut, and up
over my breasts, cupping them and feeling their fullness.

Trailing my fingers down through my pubic hair I was tempted to go further,
but I wanted to wait for Paul to come back for Round 2.  But then after a
little while I started to wonder.  Paul rarely takes a long time in the
shower, especially not when there's a horny, naked woman lying on his bed.
Carefully I got up, making sure I wasn't dribbling too much, put on my
bathrobe, and headed out onto the balcony.

The first thing I heard was soft sobbing.  My eyes hadn't adjusted to the dim
light, but down in the living room on the sofa was Steph, in her nightgown,
and kneeling on the rug in front of her was Paul.  I couldn't really pick out
what she was saying, but she was pretty upset, and it sounded like Paul was
trying to talk her through it.

I eased down the stairs, still trying to figure out what was up.  I guess that
I must have snuck up on Paul, because when I softly said "Hey, guys, what's
up?" he nearly jumped out of his skin.  Steph looked up at me, her eyes red
from crying.  "Nothing's wrong," she sobbed.  "You just have a perfect, loyal,
loving husband, the bastard."  I looked at Paul, totally confused.  His face
was sheepish, embarrassed, like a boy caught stealing candy.  He looked like
he'd rather be anywhere but here.  Steph continued.  "I ask him to do one
little thing for me, one simple little thing for poor lonely me, and all he
worries about is his marriage."

"Steph, what the hell is going on?" I asked, though the self-pity and sarcasm
in her voice made it pretty clear that it was her misery, not Paul, that was
the problem.  "You sound really upset."  She looked up at me again.  She was
wearing a gauzy  white negligee, loose at the top and opening right down the
middle.  It flowed and parted over her belly like a flowing stream.  Under it
her breasts glowed golden, with deep brown areolas the size of half dollars.

"Why should I be upset?  We're having a wonderful weekend, the four of us.
Great wine, great food, biking, hot tubbing...well, except for me."  Now the
sobs had turned to a sad smile.  "Except no wine for me, no food for me, no
biking because of me, no nice soak in the tub.. I mean, there should be
something for me, I'm the pregnant one.  But no, I guess I have to Protect The
Baby so no fun for me."  It was like the pain of all those glances from Josh
all day long had been stored up and was now gushing out. "And you know the
worst part?  You know how some women really get a huge sex drive from being
pregnant?  Well, let me tell you, I'm one of 'em.  But I married one of those
guys who thinks a pregnant woman is like a china doll.  It's like he can't
even touch me because of the baby.  He says it's not because I'm so fat, but I
don't believe him. Or he's just chicken. Or he doesn't really want the baby, I
don't know.  But I haven't been laid in five months and I really need it, God
do I need it.  And your goody-two-shoes-husband here won't even give his best
friend's wife a simple mercy fuck. Jeez.  All he does is pat my hand and tell
me how radiant I look and what a great mother I'm gonna be.

"And all the time he's sitting there reeking of sex.  I know, he just
showered, but you know what being pregnant does to your sense of smell.  It's 
driving me nuts.  Please, please, tell him it's OK, I just need someone to touch 
me, I just need to get off or I'm gonna lose it!"

I wrapped my arms around her shoulders.  The poor girl! Of course I thought
that Josh was being a real shit about it, but I've heard too that some guys
just get scared when their wives are pregnant, and try to run the show.  "Oh,
honey," I said to her, "haven't you been able to do anything for yourself?" In
college we'd had long talks about men and sex, and I knew that she got through
the dry patches with masturbation and fantasy.  "I CAN'T REACH!" she wailed. 
"Look!" She thrust her arms down by her sides. Petite as she was, she really
couldn't reach around her bulging belly to get to her crotch.  I almost bust
out laughing.  A flash of anger flickered across her face, then she smiled and
started laughing, too.  "It is funny, you know. But I really do need help. 
But I guess it's not a great idea to ask your husband."

I gulped a little.  I've never really been the jealous type, but I know about
Paul and Stephanie, and it would be playing with fire to endorse even a
therapeutic fling, and who knows what it would do to his friendship with Josh.
But at the same time my heart bled for my friend, and I really wanted to help.

And, as I said, I was still horny as anything.  And looking at her, not just
now but all day long, in that black dress, in that swimsuit, in this nightie,
I knew what I needed.  I needed to touch her, to feel what was happening to
her body, what would be happening to my own.  If she needed somebody to make
love to her, I was the one.

I started rubbing her shoulders gently.  (For years I was it was almost a joke
about me that all a guy needed to do to get into my pants was to start with a
backrub. It's amazing how well it works.)  She threw her head back with her
eyes closed and was quiet for a bit.  "Steph, honey, I'm sure there's
something we can do to help you."  I looked at Paul: he looked back at me with
a deer-in-the headlights expression of confusion and amazement.  I blew him a
little kiss and slid onto the couch behind Steph.  "Oh, honey, do you need
someone to hold you and make everything better?"

"Uh huh, " this time without the sobbing.  I ran my fingertips further down
the open back of her nightwear.  "Steph, baby, would it be OK if I took care
of it for you?" And with this I was staring straight at Paul.  I guess I was
full of my success from earlier in the evening.  I'd never done anything like
this before, not even experimented, but as I said, I was really horny, and my
friend needed me.  And for the second time that night, my proposition was
accepted.

"Would you do that? That's so sweet of you!"  Like I was offering to give her
a ride to the store.  I don't know what kind of experiences she'd had, but I
was kind of surprised she was so nonchalant about it.  Maybe her women friends
in Boston do each other all the time, I don't know.  But now I had to figure
out just how I was going to do it.

"Come up on to my lap, sweetie,"  I said, picking her up by her hips and
sliding myself under her.  Even pregnant, she was light enough for me to lift,
and then there she was, her bare butt on my thighs, my breasts pressing
against her back, her negligee falling open to her sides.  "I'm going to do to
you what I'd do to myself, just let me know what you like and don't like."
Kissing the back of her neck gently, I started by running my hands over her
rib cage (what of it there was), careful not to touch her boobs.  She relaxed,
purred softly, and sank into me.  Paul was rooted to the spot, watching us;
his cock, now erect again, was poking out of the folds of his bathrobe.  "Is
that nice?"  "Mmmmm hmmmm." she murmmured.

I couldn't wait to get to her breasts.  I cupped them, hefting their warm,
soft weight. I licked her earlobe and whispered, "Oh, these are so nice,
honey.   I would so much like to have tits like yours."  Dipping first one
index finger, then the other, into my mouth, I traced each wet finger around
her nipples in turn, and they repaid me by popping up into firm little domes.
I brushed them lightly with my fingertips, alternating with smooth caresses
under and around her swelling breasts.

Next I wanted to feel that tummy, to run my hands over the swelling womb.  
It felt like it contained an earth, a universe, with her soft boobs resting on top 
of it and the bushy tangle of pubic hair beneath. As much as I was enjoying it, 
it was clear that she wanted me to move on to the main event, so I lingered a 
little around her belly button, then moved smoothly downward to her cunt.

My fingertips brushed the tops of her pubic hair lightly.  When I'm doing
myself this is always the thing that gets me started -- just the hint of
sensation, the temptation that the fingers are there, ready to do their magic.
Then I traced around the lips, gently exploring, feeling how open they were.
She shifted her hips and spread her legs a little wider.  She was sitting
right on my pubic bones, and I had to spread my legs too in order to keep her
from falling off.  Looking up at Paul I realized he was getting an incredible
double beaver, seeing his wife's just-fucked cunt right under that of the wife
of his best friend.  He reached down and started fondling his cock gently, but
without taking his eyes off of us.

With my fingertips I brushed Steph's clit hood, and with the other hand opened
her lips and slid inside.  She clenched, then relaxed and opened to my hand,
She was nice and wet inside, and I switched fingers and started circling the
now-well-lubed one around her emerging clit.  It was strange to be doing
things so familiar to me and not feeling the sensations myself.  I touched her
button and expected to feel the jolt of electricity I get when I touch my own.
But instead I got her whole body reaction, tensing and squirming on top of me,
and grinding her ass into my own clit.  It was thrilling, and I plunged two
fingers inside her and started frigging her clit with my other hand.

She was starting to pant and moan now, and I knew Paul must be close to losing
it.  And as much as I was enjoying this, it was a stretch for me to reach my
arms all the way down to her crotch, and I really was more interested in her
boobs and belly anyway.  "Can Paul help us, honey?" I asked her.  "I need a
tongue, dammit, I need it inside me, now!"  I looked at Paul and winked. He
didn't need convincing.  He kneeled down and pressed his mouth against her
sex, sucking her clit and swirling his tongue in and out of her swollen
opening.  Paul gives great head, I just love how he does it, and I was
ecstatic to feel Steph's body respond to him by arching and squirming, rising
to meet him then driving down to rub against my own cunt.  Then he reached one
hand up and cupped my cunt with it while continuing to drill my friend with
his tongue.

I moved my hands back to Steph's breasts and kneaded them, arching my own back
as Paul slipped first one finger, then two, inside of me.  I writhed on his
hand like Steph was writhing on his tongue, with me pinching her nipples and
she grinding her ass against my clit.  We were lost to pleasing and being
pleased, not noticing anything going on around us, which is why it was so
surprising to me to open my eyes and see Josh standing next to us.

I have no idea what was running through his head, seeing his precious pregnant
wife being fingered and tongue-fucked by his best friend and his wife.  But
whatever he was feeling, he was also turned on, because his cock stuck out of
his bathrobe like a flagpole.  Opening one eye to look at him, then closing it
again, Steph just said, "Josh, I need you to stick that in my mouth, right
now, OK?"  It was more an order than a request, and she turned her head
sideways to receive him,

As soon as her lips touched her husband's cock head and drew him in, she
started shuddering and heaving like a ship in a storm.  The orgasm she'd been
needing for five months came out in wave after wave.  Paul pulled his face off
her cunt and applied it to mine, and I came with her, our bodies adhered with
sweat and rising and falling as one.  I lay under her, still holding her
lovingly, as she finished sucking her husband off, catching and swallowing his
cum and reaching over to kiss him on his belly.  I looked down and Paul had
already gone. "I think you two have some catching up to do," I muttered, and
slipped out from under her; Josh took my place on the couch, cradling his
spent, splayed wife with one arm supporting their future child.

Back in our room it was a while before Paul and I managed a word to each
other.  I mean, what could we say? "I hope they work it out."  "That was nice
of you, honey, she really seemed to appreciate it."  I didn't want to let on
how incredibly turned on I was from the experience, and didn't much want to
hear how much he was, either.  Downstairs we heard Steph yelling as,
presumably, Josh continued where Paul and I had left off.  We just snuggled on
our bed and drifted off to sleep.