My vagina is supple," says the naked Fertility Goddess straddling my chest, her pubis undulating before me. "Agile, soft, responsive..."
"Hairless, too," I note gleefully, as I inspect the shaved pinkness puckering its pretty mouth, like the Princess of Clams.
"You like it?" The swollen-breasted beauty coos. "Nibble, nibble?"
"Smells delicious!" My nostrils flare with enthusiasm. "What'd you do?"
"Extra virgin olive and lavender oil," explains my wife, five and a half months pregnant. "The herbologist says I should shave my pussy and massage it daily with scented oils, to loosen it up for labor. Now shut up and eat me, please!"
Gently, I lick her succulence -- it tastes like flowers, or endive.
"Yummy!" I tease her. "I'll toss this salad with my tongue for a while, then I'll stir up the interior with my long wooden tong."
"AARRGGHH!!" shrieks my flushing honey, as she squashes her crotch in my face. "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH!"
Pregnant sex is hot.
My bulbous-bellied, hormonally-horny spouse is pursuing me around the house, ramming her enormous nipples into my mouth, ravaging my genitalia ten times a week.
She's usually a laid-back, bored type of lover, but lately, she can't get enough meat in her oven.
Nobody told me pregnancy entailed passionate, crazy, kinky boinking like this -- truth is, I feared my wife would just get fat, bossy, fetid, weepy, and frigid. I even stockpiled porn, bunkering up for nine months of wanking that I'm now too drained to even consider.
"Blood is marching to my groin and mammary glands," moans my wife. "My pussy's always sopping wet because I'm in a constant state of desire."
I suspect she's just a heated freak, imagining things -- but physicians back up her frothy analysis. In The Pregnancy Book, authors William Sears, M.D. and Martha Sears, R.N. state that "some women become aroused more easily and climax more quickly, pleasurably, and frequently ... during the middle months of pregnancy, than at any other time in their lives."
Titillating promises also exist in the guidebook's "For Men" section: "Some women experience new cravings, stunning their mates with sudden and unexpected voracity. Don't be surprised if your pregnant partner turns tiger." Yabba-dabba-do!
Last Saturday, at our Prenatal Yoga class, I queried several other mothers-to-be about their maternal libidos: "My boobs are ripe and juicy, and my vagina is hungry," confesses Stephanie, in her seventh month. "I walk down the street thinking about sex with every man that passes by, because they smell musty like animals -- when I get home, I immediately want it doggiestyle, because it's so comfortable."
"She's quicker!" grins her husband Darryl. "No half hour of grinding required, unless she wants multiple orgasms. Suddenly, I'm a stud!"
My wife is panting uncontrollably, her kundalini inflamed by the class's contortionist postures. Impatiently, she pulls on my belt, to hurry me home for some humping.
Ten minutes later, I'm getting naked-nookie-slurped again -- this time, on the stairs. Used to be, her only erotic time-space was under the sheets when TV programs weren't promising, but now, every second and centimeter of the planet has copulatory potential.
What about my lust, you're wondering -- does the wide-waisted waddler turn me on? YES! Why?
- It's Perverted. Mounting a pregger-lady is like screwing your Mom. Naughty. Incestuous. My cock stiffens now when I see nine-monthers struggling down the street.
- New Flesh. My wife's figure has bloomed so big, it feels like I'm cheating on her with a zaftig mistress -- quite pleasurable, after the decade of skinny monogamy that I've suffered.
- Checking On Junior. This Daddy likes poking his head down the hallway, knocking on the cervix door to say "Hi!" to his son.
- Stress Reduction . If I wasn't romping wild with my wife, I'd just be worrying about college tuition, and my spawn metamorphosing into a Littleton monster.
My final advice to future fathers is this: Encourage your womb-mate to dabble in midwife quackery.
For example: My wife's never allowed me to enter her sphincter -- but yesterday, she read in a midwifery text that her "perineum" needs softening, to help it expand elastically when our child is crowning. The perineum is a chunk of gristle lying nastily between rectum and vagina.
"You'll massage it for me, putting a finger in each hole, and squeezing hard," explains my wife.
"Goodie!" I agree.
"Eventually," she blushes, "something ... wider ... needs to stretch the tight cavity -- my perineum needs pounding, like abalone..."
"This Dad will do his duty!" I promise. Finally, anal sex has family value!
"Nathan Winer" is the pseudonym of a San Francisco writer. His previous publications include "Balling the British" for Chic Magazine.