My Wife is a Pregnant Nympho

by Elephant List

My name is Brian, and my wife Amy and I have been married for five years. We have always had a good marriage, but there was one thing we never quite agreed on: sex.

I wanted it a lot more often than Amy did.

It wasn't that Amy didn't enjoy sex. She did. She just never seemed to think about it very much. If I didn't make the first move, we could easily go a week or two without doing anything. Most of the time I was the one who initiated, and every once in a while she would turn me down because she was tired or simply wasn't in the mood.

I used to tease her that I wished she wanted sex as much as I did.

I had no idea that one day I would regret saying that.

After five years of marriage, we decided it was time to have a baby. We had talked about having children before, but we had always found a reason to wait. We wanted to be more settled, save some money, and enjoy a few years of marriage before becoming parents.

Finally, we both felt ready.

When Amy stopped taking birth control, I joked that at least trying to get her pregnant would give us an excuse to have sex more often.

She laughed and told me not to get too excited.

For the next couple of months, we started trying for a baby. Even then, Amy was still Amy. She knew when she was most likely to get pregnant, and those were the nights she made sure we had sex. The rest of the time, I was still usually the one trying to get her interested.

Then one Saturday morning, Amy walked out of the bathroom holding a pregnancy test.

She was pregnant.

We were both thrilled. Amy took another pregnancy test just to make sure, and when that one came back positive too, we hugged and started talking about everything that was about to change.

I figured our sex life would change too. I had heard that pregnancy could make a woman tired, uncomfortable, or less interested in sex, so I was already preparing myself for even less action than usual.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

A few weeks into her pregnancy, I came home from work on a Tuesday evening, completely unprepared for what was waiting for me.

The house was quiet when I walked in. No dinner smells coming from the kitchen, no TV playing in the living room. I called out Amy's name and got no answer. I figured she was probably lying down. The pregnancy had been making her tired, and I'd gotten used to finding her napping or resting when I got home.

I dropped my keys on the counter and headed toward the bedroom to check on her.

The door was cracked open. I pushed it and stepped inside, and my brain short-circuited.

Amy was standing in the middle of the room wearing lingerie I had never seen before. A sheer black lace bra that barely covered anything, a matching thong, and nothing else. Her belly was still flat, no baby bump yet, and her body looked incredible.

I froze in the doorway. "What... what's all this?"

She smiled. A different kind of smile. Confident. Playful.

"I bought this yesterday," she said, running a hand down the lace. "I was going to wait for the weekend, but I couldn't."

I swallowed. My cock was already straining against my pants. "Couldn't wait?"

"I've been thinking about you all day," she said, walking toward me. "Like, all day. I was sitting at my desk and I couldn't stop thinking about what I wanted to do to you when you got home."

This was not Amy. Not the Amy I'd known for five years. That Amy never bought lingerie. She never surprised me. She never talked about wanting me.

The new Amy stopped in front of me and reached down, grabbing my cock through my pants. "I need you," she said. "Right now."

I didn't argue.

I stripped out of my clothes as fast as I could while she watched. The moment I was naked, she pushed me onto the bed. Then she climbed on top of me, straddling my hips.

I reached for her, tried to touch her breasts, but she grabbed my wrists and pinned them down on the mattress. "Let me," she said. "I've been waiting for this."

She lifted herself up, reached down between us, and guided my cock to her entrance. Then she sank down onto me, slowly, inch by inch, and I let out a groan I couldn't hold back.

She felt incredible. Tight and wet and perfect. And the look on her face — she was enjoying this more than I had ever seen her enjoy anything.

She started to ride me. Slow at first, moving her hips with deliberate, teasing precision. She was in total control. She was the one setting the pace, deciding what happened.

"You feel so good," she said, sounding breathless already. "I've been so wet since this afternoon. I couldn't stop thinking about this."

"I can tell," I said through gritted teeth.

She smiled down at me and started moving faster. Her hips rolled in a rhythm that made my eyes roll back. Her hands stayed pressed on my chest for balance, and the way she moved was pure confidence.

"God, Amy," I groaned.

"There's more," she said. Then she started riding me hard, slamming down on my cock with a force I had never felt from her. She was completely in control, using my body for exactly what she wanted.

I was just lying there, gripping the sheets, watching my pregnant wife take charge like a completely different woman.

She leaned forward and kissed me, hard. Then she sat up again and reached down to rub her clit while she rode me. Her head tipped back and she moaned, and every sound she made was enough to push me closer to the edge.

"I'm going to come," she said. "Don't stop. Don't you dare stop."

I didn't. She rode me harder, grinding down on my cock, and then her whole body tensed. She cried out, a sharp, breathless sound, and I felt her walls tighten around me with an intensity that pushed me over too.

I came inside her, pumping deep, and she stayed on top through all of it, riding out both our orgasms until she finally slowed down and collapsed onto my chest.

We lay there breathing hard for a while. Then she lifted her head and smiled at me, a lazy, satisfied smile.

"Wow," she said.

"Yeah," I said. "Wow."

She laughed and kissed me, then slid off and curled up against my side. "I'm hungry now. I think I want tacos."

I laughed. "After that? Sure. Whatever you want."

She got up and pulled on my t-shirt, and I watched her walk out of the bedroom with more bounce in her step than I had ever seen.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling in disbelief.

Five years of marriage. Five years of me initiating, of hoping, of getting turned down sometimes, of telling her I wished she wanted it as much as I did.

And now this. She'd bought lingerie. She'd waited for me, wanting me, thinking about it all day.

I thought it might just be a one-time thing. A pregnancy hormone surge. A lucky night.

Whatever was happening, I had a feeling I was going to get exactly what I'd always asked for.

That Tuesday night wasn't a one-time thing.

If anything, Amy seemed to want me more with every passing week. She started initiating almost every night, sometimes before I even had a chance to think about it. After five years of being the one who usually had to make the first move, I couldn't believe my luck.

Then one Friday night, Amy suggested that we go out to dinner.

We went to one of our favorite restaurants and got a booth in a quiet corner. Instead of sitting across from me like she normally did, Amy slid into my side of the booth.

"What are you doing over here?" I asked.

"I want to sit next to my husband."

She rested her hand on my leg while we looked at the menu. At first I didn't think anything of it. Then her hand moved higher.

I looked at her.

Amy just smiled and kept reading the menu as if nothing unusual was happening.

She then reached for my cock through my pants and massaged it.

"Amy," I whispered.

"What?"

"We're in a restaurant."

"I know."

That smile told me everything. She was teasing me deliberately, enjoying how nervous she was making me.

I leaned closer. "What has gotten into you lately?"

She kissed my cheek. "Maybe I'm just making up for lost time."

For the rest of dinner, I could barely concentrate on my food.

The drive home was a blur. I couldn't stop thinking about her hand on my leg, the way her fingers had found my cock through my pants while we sat in that dimly lit booth. She'd kept that innocent smile on her face the entire time, but she knew exactly what she was doing. I was hard as a rock and praying the waiter wouldn't notice.

We pulled into the driveway, and I killed the engine. The porch light was on, casting a soft glow over the front yard. I reached for the door handle.

"Where are you going?" Amy's voice was calm, a little too calm.

I laughed. "Inside. That's where we live."

"Why?"

I looked at her. The streetlight cut through the windshield, catching the curve of her smile. She was watching me with a look I'd never seen before—confident, hungry, amused.

"Because the bedroom is inside?"

She leaned across the center console and kissed me, her hand finding the bulge in my pants. "I've been thinking about this all through dinner. I'm not waiting another minute."

"Amy, we're in the driveway."

"I know." That smile again. "Are you going to make me ask twice?"

I didn't make her ask again.

She unzipped my pants and freed my cock. It was already aching, leaking a little from hours of her teasing. She wrapped her fingers around it, working me slowly, watching my face.

"You've been such a good husband," she whispered. "Putting up with me for so long. Let me take care of you."

Then she leaned down.

The space was tight, but she managed. Her mouth found the head of my cock, tongue swirling around it before taking me deep. I groaned, my hand finding her hair. She moaned around me, vibrations running through my shaft. She moved with hungry, sloppy strokes, bobbing her head as her hand worked the base. The sound of it filled the car—wet, obscene, perfect.

She pulled off with a pop, a string of saliva stretching from her lips. "You taste so good," she murmured, then went back down.

I was close, but I didn't want it to end yet. "Amy, wait—"

She ignored me, sucking harder, taking me deeper until my hips bucked against her mouth. I called her name, my voice cracking, but she kept going, swallowing every drop when I came with a shudder that shook the whole car.

When she finally let me go, she sat up and licked her lips. "Mmm."

"You're trying to kill me," I said, breathless.

She laughed and reached for the seat recline lever. The passenger seat shot backward, flattening into the space as much as it could. She hiked her dress up around her waist and pulled her panties down her thighs. They dropped to the floor mat.

"Now come here," she said.

I shifted, climbing awkwardly over the center console, the gear shift digging into my knee. The steering wheel pressed against my back. This was not going to be comfortable.

Amy lay back, legs spread, one hand between her thighs. She was already slick. She guided me with her other hand, lining me up.

"I've been wet all night," she said.

I pushed inside her.

She gasped, arching her back, her head pressing against the window. The position was tight—my shoulders cramped, my knees bent at awkward angles. But her pussy was hot and tight and gripping me so perfectly that I didn't care.

I moved, thrusting into her as best I could in the cramped space. She wrapped her legs around me, heels digging into the car's roof liner. Her dress was bunched around her waist, her body pressed against mine. She moaned with every stroke, her hands reaching up to grip the headrest.

"Harder," she breathed.

I gave her harder, my thumb finding her clit, rubbing circles against her. She cried out, her hips bucking to meet my rhythm. The car began to rock.

"God, yes," she panted, sweat beading on her forehead. "Don't stop. Don't you dare stop."

I didn't.

We came together in a messy, desperate tangle of limbs and breathless moans. She shuddered beneath me, gripping me tight as she came. I buried my face in her neck and followed right after.

For a long moment, we stayed tangled up, breathing hard, dripping sweat. Finally, I pulled out and slumped into the driver's seat.

"Wow," I said.

She laughed, fumbling to pull her dress down. "Wow is right."

I shook my head as I unlocked the door. Five years of marriage, and we'd never once messed around in the car. Before the pregnancy, Amy would have been mortified at the thought of someone seeing us. Now she'd initiated twice in one evening—first the restaurant, then the driveway.

By Amy's fifth month, there was no hiding the fact that she was pregnant—and there was definitely no hiding what pregnancy was doing to her sex drive.

Her belly had grown into a noticeable bump, and I loved the way she looked. Her breasts were getting bigger too. Amy seemed to love her changing body. She was more confident than I'd ever seen her, and she wanted sex constantly.

Once a day had become normal for us.

Sometimes, apparently, once wasn't enough.

One morning I was getting dressed for work when Amy walked into the bedroom, looked at me buttoning my shirt, and announced that she wanted me.

"Amy, I have to leave in ten minutes."

"Then we have nine minutes."

Another time I was in the garage trying to fix a loose shelf when she appeared in the doorway wearing one of my T-shirts and nothing else.

"Can you come inside for a minute?" she asked.

I looked at her. "I'm kind of in the middle of something."

She lifted the bottom of the shirt just enough to make her intentions clear.

I put the screwdriver down.

Weekends were even worse. Without work getting in the way, Amy seemed to think there was no reason we couldn't do it in the morning, again in the afternoon, and sometimes again before we went to sleep.

"What happened to you?" I asked her one Saturday afternoon as we lay in bed afterward.

She rested a hand on her growing belly. "Hormones."

"Can we keep them after the baby comes?"

She laughed. "You better be careful what you wish for."

At the time, I thought that was funny.

There were days when I came home exhausted and Amy would already be waiting for me. Other nights, we'd have sex before dinner and she'd start touching me again while we were watching television a couple of hours later.

For five years, I'd been the one asking. Now Amy was the one looking at me expectantly while I tried to figure out whether my body was ready to go again.

I was still having the time of my life.

But for the first time since Amy got pregnant, a thought started creeping into my head.

I wasn't sure I could keep up with my wife.

It finally happened one night during Amy's sixth month.

We had already made love that morning and again after dinner. When we got into bed, Amy rolled toward me with that familiar look in her eyes.

I shook my head. "Not tonight."

She stared at me. "Did you just turn me down?"

"Amy, I'm exhausted."

She burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Five years, Brian. Five years of you complaining that I never wanted it enough."

"I know."

She smiled and kissed me. "Be careful what you wish for."

I laughed and pulled her against me.

For the first time in our marriage, I was the one saying no.

By the seventh month, Amy's belly was getting big, and I assumed her sex drive would finally start slowing down.

I was wrong.

If anything, she seemed to want me even more. Her growing belly didn't discourage her at all. She simply laughed whenever it got in the way and found another comfortable position.

"Doesn't being this pregnant slow you down?" I asked her one night.

"Apparently not," she said, smiling.

Every week she got bigger, and every week I kept expecting those pregnancy hormones to give me a break.

Then, for the first time in months, Amy gave me a break.

For several days, she didn't mention sex. She didn't surprise me in the bedroom, grab me while I was trying to get dressed, or give me that look from across the room.

At first, I was relieved.

By the fourth day, something unexpected happened.

I started missing it.

I came home from work that evening and found Amy in the bedroom getting ready for bed. Her belly was huge now, and when I looked at her, I realized that for the first time in weeks, I was the one thinking about sex.

I walked up behind her and put my arms around her.

She looked at me in the mirror and smiled.

"What are you doing?"

"I think I've had enough rest."

Her smile got bigger.

"That's funny," she said. "Because I was thinking the same thing."

There was no teasing in her voice, no playful challenge. Just simple, honest desire, matching mine exactly. For the first time in weeks, we were on the same page at the exact same moment.

I reached over and put my hand on her belly. It was warm and tight beneath my palm, like a drum stretched thin. She covered my hand with hers and squeezed.

"Come here," she said.

I moved closer, and she turned onto her side to face me. Her belly pressed between us, a warm, heavy presence that had become as familiar as her heartbeat. I leaned in and kissed her, slow and deep, and she sighed into my mouth like she'd been waiting for this all day.

She had been. So had I.

Her hands moved to my shoulders, and I slid one hand up her side, over the curve of her ribs, until I found her breast. It was fuller now, heavier, and she moaned as my thumb brushed across her nipple.

"I love how they feel," I said against her lips.

"They're all yours," she said. "For now."

I laughed softly and kissed her again. Then I started moving lower. She knew where I was going, and she shifted onto her back, letting her legs fall open.

Getting her comfortable took a little work. The pregnancy had made some things simpler and some things more complicated. But we'd figured out the rhythm by now. She propped herself up on her elbows, and I settled between her thighs.

"I've missed this," she said, looking down at me with hooded eyes.

"Tell me when you're close," I said.

"I always do."

I kissed the inside of her thigh, then the other, working my way up slowly. She was already wet when I got there—had been since the moment I said I'd had enough rest. I leaned in and licked her from bottom to top, and she let out a low, throaty moan.

There was nothing rushed about it. I took my time, tasting her, learning her again like it was the first time. She was swollen and sensitive, and every flick of my tongue made her twitch. Her fingers found the back of my head and held on, not pushing, just holding.

"That's it," she breathed.

I worked her clit with my tongue, steady and patient, and she started moving her hips in time with me. Her head fell back, and her belly rose and fell with her breathing.

I buried my face deeper and lapped at her until she was trembling.

"Brian," she said, her voice tight. "I'm close."

I didn't stop. I kept going, faster now, and she came with a sharp cry, her thighs clenching around my head. I rode it out with her, licking her gently until she went limp.

"Jesus," she whispered.

I kissed my way up her body, over the mound of her belly, stopping to press a kiss right at the top of the curve. She laughed, a soft, happy sound.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"You know I am."

I moved up the bed and positioned myself behind her, helping her roll onto her side. This had become our go-to position now—spooning made it easier with her growing belly. She lifted her top leg, and I guided myself inside her from behind.

We both groaned at the same time.

She was tight and hot and slick, and I slid in all the way with one smooth push. I wrapped an arm around her, sliding my hand up to cup her heavy breast, and she leaned back against me, her head on my shoulder.

"God, that feels good," she said.

"You feel amazing."

We started slow. I pushed in and pulled out with long, easy strokes, and she pushed back to meet me, her ass pressing against me. Her belly rested on the bed, big and round, and I could feel it against my arm as I held her.

Amy's breathless sigh turned into a moan as I gave her a harder thrust. Then the rhythm changed. I started moving faster, and she matched me, her hand finding mine where it rested on her belly and lacing our fingers together.

We were a team tonight. It had been days since we'd done this, and the hunger was real on both sides. I could feel it in the way she pushed back, in the way she tilted her hips to take me deeper.

"Roll over," I said, pulling out.

She did, turning onto her hands and knees with a practiced shift that made room for her belly. This was a newer position for us, one we'd only attempted a few times, but tonight she moved into it like she'd been born for it.

I knelt behind her. The angle was perfect. I reached forward and spread her cheeks with my thumbs, enjoying the sight, then guided myself back in.

She moaned and dropped her chest to the bed, lifting her ass higher.

"God, yes," she said. "Right there."

I set a rhythm, hard and steady, and she pushed back to meet me, taking me deep every time. Her belly hung below her, full and heavy, and I let one hand slide around to rest on it from underneath, feeling the weight of it as I fucked her.

"Is that good?" I asked.

"So good," she said, her voice muffled by the sheet. "Don't stop."

I didn't. I thrust into her with everything I had, and she took it, moaning and gasping and pushing back against me. There was no hesitation, no holding back. She wanted me as much as I wanted her, and we were finally giving it to each other.

"I'm close again," she said, her voice strained.

"Let go."

She cried out as she came, her whole body shuddering around me. I felt her tighten, grip me, and I knew I wasn't far behind. But I pulled out at the last second, stroking myself as I moved up.

"Roll onto your back," I said, my voice rough.

She did, smiling up at me with glazed eyes. Her chest was heaving, her breasts full and heavy on her ribcage, her belly rising between us like a small planet. I knelt over her, careful not to let my weight rest on her, and I stroked myself over her.

"Amy," I said.

She knew what I needed. She reached up and took her breasts in her hands, squeezing them together, offering them up.

I came with a groan, and my cum landed hot and white across her chest. A thick line across her left breast, another across her right, a final splash that ran down the crest of her belly.

She laughed, low and satisfied. Then she ran her fingers through the mess, spreading it across her skin. She covered both breasts, working it in like lotion, then dragged her slick fingers down over the curve of her belly, smearing it across the tight skin.

"You missed that spot," I said.

She licked her fingers clean, slow and deliberate, looking me straight in the eye.

"Did I?"

I laughed and collapsed onto the bed beside her, spent and shaking. She rolled onto her side and laid her head on my chest, and I wrapped my arm around her, my hand coming to rest on the heavy globe of her belly.

For a long moment, neither of us said anything. The only sound was our breathing, slowly settling back to normal.

I looked down at her. Her hair was sweaty, plastered to her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed. She had my cum drying on her chest and stomach, and she was grinning like she'd won something.

In a way, she had.

Five years. Five years of me being the one to ask. Five years of waiting for her to want me as much as I wanted her. And then she'd gotten pregnant, and something had unlocked inside her. She'd become this hungry, confident, radiant woman who couldn't get enough of me—and who, for the first time, I couldn't quite keep up with.

I'd spent so many years wishing she'd want me more. I never imagined I'd get exactly what I asked for.

"This is a nice view," she said, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my chest.

"That's my line."

"Not anymore."

I laughed and kissed the top of her head. She'd wanted me more for the past eight months, and I'd done my best to keep up. Tonight, for the first time in weeks, I'd matched her.

We lay there in the quiet, her heavy belly pressing against my hip, her breath warm on my skin. I thought about the woman she was now, the woman she'd become since getting pregnant. I loved her more than I had any right to, and I had never wanted her more than I did right then, lying exhausted and satisfied beside her.

"I'm going to miss this when the baby comes," she said softly.

"Miss what?"

"Being able to keep you in bed whenever I want."

I grinned. "I'm pretty sure you'll find a way."

A few minutes later, Amy lifted her head from my chest.

"You know," she said, "I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"Maybe we shouldn't wait too long before having another baby."

I stared at her.

She smiled.

"Another baby?" I said. "You're not even finished with this one."

"I'm just planning ahead."

I looked at my very pregnant wife and thought about the last eight months.

Five years ago, I wished Amy wanted sex more often.

Now she was already talking about getting pregnant again.

I really needed to learn to be careful what I wished for.

The End.