Wonderful Things Happen in Golden Gate Park [MF][pregnant woman]

There’s a little space in Golden Gate Park, a paved section off the main road no bigger than a tennis court, where roller-skaters and roller-bladers practice and groove. Someone brings a boombox, and some of the skaters dance, but mostly they just take long, lazy circles. I rode my bike down there, to chill out and watch the happy skaters. I love the variety of people: this day, there were a couple in 70’s disco style, big chunky roller-skates, a couple of graceful young gay men with literal capes fluttering after them, an array of regulars in everything from hippie casual to a business suit–and today there was someone I hadn’t seen before. She was gorgeous, glossy black hair falling to mid-back, olive skin, a big smile as she took a corner a little too fast and had to swerve a bit to miss another skater. She was also pregnant, her t-shirt bowed out by the round swell of her belly, and I felt a distinctive thrill at that; something about the curves of her thighs and hips and the curve of her pregnancy resonated so well.

I parked my bike, took my towel, and lay down on the little grassy hillside next to the little skate alcove. There were plenty of other people on the hillside too, some of them skaters taking a break, others, like me, who just liked the chill vibe of the place. The music playing from the boombox was Diana Ross, and the sky overhead was blue as could be, the air warm. Idyllic. And today, the added pleasure of this black-haired girl, shining with beauty, doing little routines as she skated, switching direction, doing quick little side steps–nothing showy, it seemed more just about having fun for herself.

About ten minutes later, the pregnant woman came off the pavement, and sat down on the hillside near me, unlacing her skates. Her belly impeded her a little in that, but she looked pretty damn adorable doing it, too. However, she misjudged the force needed to yank one roller skate off, and sent it flying back, skidding next to my head. She started to scramble up, and I said, “No worries,” jumping up and grabbing up the skate. I walked a few steps down to her, and put it down for her.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling at me, “How did I look out there?”

Was that a softball, or a sinker? I was just honest, “You looked amazing, and like you were having a lot of fun.” She put on her shoes, some chunky white sneakers, and said, “Thanks. My mother used to tell me how she danced while she was pregnant with me, and how it was a really great way for her to connect to joy during that,” she shrugged, looking maybe a bit embarrassed, “Anyway, I like skating, so I’m going to skate.”

I nodded, “The little moves you did there reminded me of the way I am when I ride my bike, like, when you just suddenly swerve just because you can. To find a little rush of motion.”

We talked easily for another hour or so, until the sun began to brush the tops of the trees in the park. She was really charming–in her mid-twenties, in graduate nursing school. Not from the Bay Area, but had visited it while a child and always been enchanted by it. I got to do my older-San Franciscan routine, and tell her a few of the rarer gems, like Cayuga Park, the guerilla sculpture garden. I let her know I was thirty-nine, and saw no dismay. Her eyes were so captivating it was easy enough to keep mine on them, but her body was a constant distraction of the most pleasurable sort. Her breasts pushed against the tight fabric of her t-shirt, set off by the swell of the belly beneath.

At the end of the hour, regretfully, I had to go to a friend’s to help with a project. I asked if she’d like to stay in contact–to give her more San Francisco guidance, and she accepted that with a wry smile. I gave her my number, and was pleasantly surprised when she texted me immediately, and said, “Cool.”

We texted over the next few weeks, slipping between anecdotes about San Francisco from me, bafflement about some SF customs from her, and light flirtation. She established that she was single, but didn’t elaborate beyond that. We met up once at Wildseed, an incredible vegetarian restaurant that is one of those things that is worth the hype in the SF restaurant scene, and another time at the Exploratorium, a strange wonderland of interactive science exhibits.

Then, one night, we went for a walk around Pacific Heights; she liked looking at the grandiose houses and kind of semi-mocking the people in them, while appreciating the architecture. She was funny as hell at it. We were walking next to each other, and then, from no clear conscious impulse, I just slipped my arm around her waist, and we walked on like that, and she did a little nestling motion up against me. We went to the head of the Lyon Street steps, and made out a little bit. We both went in for the kiss at the same time, and I saw her smile as our lips met. I couldn’t help myself from putting my hand on her belly while kissing her, and had a moment of “Oh no, maybe that’s exactly the wrong thing” But she covered it with her hand and pressed it harder against her.

The kiss got intense, fast, and we both had an ‘Oh hell, we’re in public,” moment, and broke apart. I started to try to say something to cover the moment, when she interrupted with, “My place is closer”.

We took a quick Uber there, kissing urgently again before the car got there, but then just holding hands in it on the ride over. I was feeling such an exhilarating rush of energy and arousal; time with her had always been fun, but the level of passion I’d felt in her kiss had rocked into me.

She led us up a couple flights of stairs to her door. Once inside, she turned to me inside and did the little hostess routine of offering water, giving a brief synopsis of the apartment–she had a little slice of a view of the bay as the most noticeable feature, from her living room. As we stood looking out at the bay darkening in the evening, I put my arm around her again. Pulled her up against me, and we spent some time kissing languorously. The intensity was still there, but we were taking our time now, hands starting to move on each other.

She was pressing her breasts into me, and they felt tight, round, like her pregnancy was really manifest in them. She was all rounded curves under my touch. Then we broke the kiss, and she grinned her flashing smile and said, “I’ll be really honest. Hormones are like a drug.” I could see it in her eyes, this really heady arousal. Coming from inside her–I was a necessary catalyst, but clearly, she was already floating in a libidinal cloud. I reached out and cupped her breasts through her light blouse, exploring them, weighing them in my hands. Drinking up all the information through my touch.

She started unbuttoning her shirt, I helped her take it off. She was wearing a really lovely lace bra, and had clearly intended or hoped it to be seen that night. She took her skirt off, exposing a tiny lace thong. When I reached down to cup her pussy, the fabric was already wet to the touch. I pulled it to one side, and my fingers just slid through her slick pussylips, that tiny noise magnified, a spike of arousal straight to my brain. She moaned, and I pushed two fingers inside her, curled them, like I was beckoning her.

She smiled up at me and said a very simple, “Fuck yses!” and reached back to undo her bra, which slid off and exposed those breasts, the biggest they’d ever been in her life. Nipples a dark pink cap

And I just started feasting on them with my mouth, sucking as much as I could in, then concentrating on one nipple, then the other. Licking in long wet strokes against the soft skin below her breasts.

All while fingerfucking her, half-raising her off the ground with my hand in her pussy. Her pregnant belly pressed against my forearm.

Her breath started to get ragged and her moans wild, and in little urgent statements she guided my thumb on her clit, “A little faster. Press more. Yes. That. Yes,” as my fingers continued to slick-slide in and out of her gloriously tight pussy. I told her how fucking hot she looked, her breasts, her sweet face, her belly, the curves of her, how incredibly feminine she was and how much that aroused me.

She hissed in a needy voice, “Suck my tits and I’ll cum” and I put my mouth back on them, surrounding her big nipple with my mouth and sucked it hard, and she bucked against my hand and her pussy tightened on it and she came. She gripped so hard I couldn’t slide my fingers out until her legs had stopped trembling and she came down from those heights of pleasure.

She was a little weak in the knees so I helped her down to her couch, and we sat together a moment as I held her and she took deep, shuddering breaths. She recovered very fast, kissed me quickly and got up and bent over the arm of the couch, smiling at me.. Her belly fit nicely against the curve of the arm. I had to bend down and kiss her breasts, kiss her mouth again, before I got up and got behind her. I stripped off my clothes, as she looked back at me, locking her gaze on mine. I took my cock in hand and slid the head of it against her pussylips, and then leant forwards, pushing my cock into her pussy. She wiggled on the arm of the couch, her ass moving so enticingly I pushed harder than I’d meant, sending another inch into her. She encouraged that; she nodded, eyes still on mine, and she worked her hips back, and I strained forwards until my whole cock was inside her, and she let out a contented sigh. We held that a long moment, and then I pulled my cock back, already gleaming wet from her, and started to fuck her in long, thorough stroeks. She slide one hand down between her legs as I fucked her, playing with her clit. I had her lush ass in my hands, spreading it, looking down at her tight pussy taking my girth.

I reached under her to feel her belly in my hand as I fucked her. It was powerful; It almost gave me the sensation that I’d bred her, it felt so beautiful. Her pregnancy, right now, was so part of her identity, and I was getting to experience it so intimately, how incredibly horny it made her, how gorgeous while getting fucked.

We spent a long time in that position, slowing at times, changing angles a little bit, but both of us so enraptured by the connection between us, by the link of my cock and her pussy, my hands and her soft skin, and our eyes for each other. She came again, trembling, almost slipping off the arm of the couch. Held in place by my body pressed against hers.

Then she squeezed my cock beautifully with her pussy and told me to come inside her, and I stayed almost all the way in her, with a lot of my weight on her, and let her squeeze me and worked my cock back and forth in short but so satisfying movements. Then I came, deep inside her, as she arched her back, my hand on her big belly and one pregnancy-enhanced breast. She pressed her ass back against me, helping me stay fundamentally in her until my orgasm had finished exploding out of me.

I leaned over her like that for a few long moments, then slowly withdrew. I helped her up, kissed her, moved her to the couch where she drew me down into an embrace. Wrapping arms around her, still swooning from the memories that I’d gained that night, how gorgeous, wantonly sexual she’d been.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/uz94gl/wonderful_things_happen_in_golden_gate_park