Claire

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Amateur

Claire and I met one another’s gaze across the dim kitchen, our eyes expressing volumes without our lips moving. She offered a casual wave, tossed her russet curls out of her eyes, and then returned her full attention to the frosty glass of milk in her hand.

“Night, Claire,” I offered as I turned to leave the room, trying not to let my eyes linger too long over her hunter green nightie. “Will you lock up before you turn in?”

“No problem.” Her voice was muffled behind the glass as she savored a luxuriant sip. “Night Alex.”

I moved up the thickly carpeted stairs to my bedroom, the house around me silent as I collapsed into an office chair to gaze without seeing at the screen saver my monitor projected. Combing my fingers through my hair, I felt like the world’s filthiest man, and if jerking off over the thoughts I had would cure this condition, I would have been in remission weeks ago.

It was all Dave’s fault. My brother was never gifted with responsible spending. He appreciated things, but didn’t have the restraint to accumulate them by hard work and self-deprivation. This included Claire.

As she frequently was, my mother was right: I would regret letting the couple stay with me. Dave caught me at a moment of weakness and distraction. I had been busily finishing up an overdue project for work, and instead of being smart and ignoring the repeated calls to my cell, I had answered the fifth despite the nagging doubt in my gut.

Of course he wanted something. The crux of the conversation that had been padded with self-deprecation and overabundant complements for me was that Dave and Claire needed help. Dave had lost yet another job. The pair were sixteen days behind on their rent, and Claire could not go to work due to her condition.

“It will only be for a couple weeks tops,” Dave assured with the rowdy roar of a beer fed crowd in the background. “I just don’t have the cash right now, and by the time I do, our asses will be out in the street.”

“Did you ask Mom?”

“She said no way. I think she’s just gotten really selfish in her old age. Having us there would be too much work, and she can’t be bothered. She’s being really shitty if you ask me.”

“Imagine that. She actually wants to enjoy her retirement. How selfish. If you’re so hard up for cash, what the fuck are you doing out at the bar again?”

“Claire’s pissed. She’s been crying for the last three days. I love her. I do. But it’s gotten so hard to put up with her lately. She cries all the time, her ass is getting bigger, and all she does is read baby books and accuse me of ruining one of the most important times of her life. I guess I’m not a chick. I don’t get what the big deal is except that I’ll need to earn even more money. She knows how I feel about this kid situation.”

“So you’ll be thrown out?”

“They’ll take us to court first, then throw us out.”

I was hunting files, trying to suppress the annoyance I felt, when Claire’s bright blue eyes flashed in my mind. The thought of her pregnant and unkempt, sleeping in a car while they sold off all their possessions made a twinge of guilt shiver through me. I had an almost mundanely stable life and certainly didn’t want for anything financially. The perfect bachelor life with all the electronics, casual sex, and free time I could want.

“Look. You guys can stay here, but you’re not going to just bum around and live off me like a parasite, David. I expect your ass out at every temp agency in town, and when you aren’t there, you’ll be hunting apartments. Your wife is depending on you, and you’ve really fucked it up.”

“Man, thank you! I know it was a dick thing to do, but you have no idea how unbearable my boss was. I’ll make it up to you. I swear. Thanks, little bro.”

Winter always hits our part of the country hard, and when they arrived later the next afternoon, I was even more pissed off at Dave. Claire scurried up my shoveled front walk, snowflakes dotting her hair, an evergreen coat barely able to cover her bulging belly as she carried two cardboard cartons toward the house.

“Whoa!” I flung open the door, running out to help the poor girl with the boxes. “Claire, you aren’t supposed to be lifting things this far along are you?” She hurried inside behind me, collapsing in a recliner near the door to catch her breath.

“Dave gave me light boxes,” she panted, running fair hands through her long hair to brush away the clinging snowflakes. “And I’m getting fat and could use the exercise, Alex. Look at this!”

Gaining her footing, she struggled out of the tight winter coat to display herself, turning in a circle to emphasize her point. I did not see a “fat” woman. I saw a creature more enticing than any other I had known.

From her tiny feet in their ebony boots to the basic black maternity pants and dark purple sweater she wore, she looked glorious. Her complexion was flawless and radiant as if it had been cast in porcelain, her cheeks a bit more full and ruddy, bahis firmaları and her cleavage definitely more substantial above the rounded protrusion of her belly. Pregnancy did more than agree with her. It enhanced her.

“You look great!” I enthused, reaching out to offer her a friendly embrace. I knew the event she was trying so hard to make the best of was weighing on their already fragile marriage. The time in a woman’s life that is supposed to be the most joyous and miraculous was turning out to be anything but either of those things. I felt obliged to pick up the slack where my son of a bitch brother left off. “You should try to get work in some of those maternity catalogs.”

“You’re funny,” Claire shrugged. But I saw the faint hopeful glimmer of self-respect in her eyes before it was stamped out by the approaching footsteps of her husband.

A couple weeks had grown into a month and a half. And while it was an inconvenience having to share my modest house with two more people, I found that Claire’s company more than made up for the uncomfortable tension between Dave and myself. She was pleasant to talk with, and I learned that she loved books of all kinds, not just the ones that preoccupied her due to her pregnancy and impending motherhood. I began to eat home cooked meals instead of take-out far more frequently than I’d prepare for myself. Dinners at home hadn’t been this good since my last live in girlfriend. If I got home from work late, there’d be a little something thoughtfully put together for me to eat, even if it was just a sandwich, and I was touched by Claire’s consideration. It felt more like a home rather than a house, and it was all compliments of my sister-in-law and new roommate. I also got used to all the other acts of thoughtfulness Claire displayed: washing my clothes along with those of Dave and herself, light cleaning simply because she had the time and energy to do it and even someone to keep me company in the evenings. Dave often met up with friends or retired to their room to watch television alone and contemplate the latest fuck up he had achieved, leaving us plenty of time to talk and get to know one another more than we had in the past.

I did my best to ignore all the squabbles I overheard when they thought I was asleep or too engrossed in projects to notice. I’d hear Dave rumbling on, Claire’s futile attempts at optimism and reassurance, Dave’s voice raising, then sniffles and the opening and closing of their bedroom door followed by the squeak of stair treads as Claire left their room and went downstairs.

Tonight, things had proceeded as they always did. Dave came back from yet another unproductive day around six thirty. Claire had baked lasagna, and she and I were clearing our dinner dishes as Dave stomped through the front door, muttering under his breath about software training and the cost of a two-bedroom apartment.

“Dinner’s still warm,” Claire announced brightly as she greeted her husband at the door to take his coat. “Alex and I made lasagna.”

“Why? I already grabbed a hamburger on the way home.” He noticed her crestfallen expression, and then hurriedly appended his statement, trying to lift her mood. “Baby, I didn’t want you to feel like you had to hurry and fix me something when I got home. I thought it would help you out.

“Why don’t we go upstairs…” A suggestive caress of her shapely bottom. “I could really use a neck rub.”

Giving them their privacy, I busied myself by clattering dishes about in the sink and ignoring their footsteps as they left the living room.

The house was still as I crept back downstairs for my weakness: a handful of Oreos that I would heartily enjoy despite my attempts of maintaining a healthy diet as often as possible.

When I approached the kitchen in my usual soundless manner, I became aware of two things. Firstly, Claire had not heard my progress downstairs. The angle of the kitchen entryway was just such that she would not see me until I actually set foot in the room. And second, she was more gorgeous than I had imagined.

Standing by the sink with a full tumbler of milk, she wore nothing but an oversized cream-colored nightshirt with a pink rosette pattern. Her unbound breasts swelled delightfully against the fabric, and I got a more than generous look at her creamy cleavage as she tilted her head back to swallow another sip of milk. Her belly, full and lovely as she neared the end of her sixth month of pregnancy, protruded like a large melon just beneath her chest, but was still high and firm. Legs still shapely and long ended in bare feet with pink toenails, and I could smell the scent of her soap and shampoo as I drew nearer to her.

“Alex!” she exclaimed, opening her eyes when she heard my footsteps on the linoleum flooring. “God, you scared me!” She clutched the glass in both hands, her full cheeks overtaken by a bright blush.

“Sorry,” I grinned, leaning past her to retrieve my secret stash of cookies. “I just kaçak iddaa had a sweet tooth attack and thought I’d come downstairs to grab some Oreos.”

Claire was looking at me, and something in that enchanting blue gaze made me pause. She turned, putting her glass down for a moment to lean in close to me, scrutinizing my face. She was close enough for me to see the slight sprinkling of freckles on her nose and detect the subtle minty aroma of her breath.

“You really look nothing like Dave,” One petal soft hand reached up to trail down my five o’clock shadow as her dark lashes fluttered in her efforts to take in every feature and expression on my face. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Genetics, I mean. You two are so different.”

I knew in an instant what she meant and what she wanted, and I intended to give it to her despite my best efforts to never bed another man’s woman.

Glancing over her shoulder, my craving for cookies was forgotten as an entirely new hunger for sweet flesh took its place. She followed my eyes and then offered a conspiratorial smile.

“Asleep,” she whispered, her fingertips still caressing my cheekbone. “I gave him a hand job and he crashed out. He won’t wake up.”

“Claire, I don’t know what you’re up to, but I—” I had to at least offer the token protest to disguise the eagerness flooding my cock.

She flinched, her hands flying over her belly as she closed her eyes in discomfort, and then offered me an embarrassed smile.

“Baby. She’s got quite the kick on her. I think she’ll be a great soccer player.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Fine. Well, don’t let me keep you from your cookies. I’d steal some, but it all goes straight to here.” She swept her hands over her breasts, belly and hips before retrieving her glass of milk.

“Well then,” I sighed, grabbing the bag of cookies and heading for the door. “Night, Claire. Will you lock up before you turn in?”

“Yes.”

I climbed the stairs, and it was like ascending from warmth and coziness to cold shock. What had just happened? My brother’s wife had just put the moves on me! And not only was she his wife, but she was rotund with carrying their child! Oh, this was fucking nuts.

No harm. No foul. Just enough dirty and lecherous thoughts to keep a priest busy for weeks in a confessional. Not to mention the urgent date I had with a box of tissues. As much as I wanted to bury myself up to the root in her in that quiet kitchen, I would have to deal with the wrath of my older brother if he ever found out, and he did not adhere to the same set of morals and conduct I did. Especially where physical aggression was concerned.

I settled back into my bed, reveling in the darkness and using it to soothe my inflamed libido. Music. I needed music. Groping for my remote in the dark, I knocked the box of tissues off my nightstand. They landed with a soft thump on the corner of the mattress, and I took it as an omen from the gods.

Radiohead played and I unzipped my fly. In a matter of seconds, I pulled out my cock and closed my eyes, losing myself in the music and my fantasies. It was not the first time I had masturbated over thoughts of Claire and I in various sexual acts, but tonight the pleasure was heightened by the recent contact of her fingertips against my face. I thought I could still feel the warmth of them like phantom fingerprints on my cheek, and my cock throbbed in response to the memory of her curvy body being so close to mine.

I came in less than two minutes.

The Oreos were left neglected on the computer desk. Sleep carried me away, still sprawled in my bed, fully dressed with my flaccid penis hanging out of my pants.

Not right. Something was not right. I struggled against the black veil of sleep that surrounded me, and the feeling of shaking off sleep while still dressed reminded me of what I had done prior to nodding off. But aside from that, something else was different. The music. My CD player was starting up again. I recognized the opening track. And I knew I wasn’t alone.

In the faint glow of the alarm clock, I saw her. She had her back to me, but she was standing near the bookcase where my stereo component system was located, her hair almost the color of blood in the dim light, her legs pale. As I followed them up, I realized she was naked.

“Claire?” I yawned, struggling to a sitting position and hastily stuffing myself back into my pants.

“Shhhh!”

When she turned to face me, I thought I might just erupt all over again. She was beautifully naked, and she was the most sensual and gorgeous woman I had ever seen, pregnant or not.

“Please don’t say anything,” she begged, sitting on the edge of the bed by my feet. “You’re a man, Alex. A man I feel so attracted to, and that’s so unusual these days.” She looked pointedly down at her belly, slowly running her hands over it. “If I’m going to stay here until Dave gets his shit together, I don’t see why we can’t get to know each other better.

“You kaçak bahis don’t have a woman, and for all intents and purposes, I’m married strictly in the legal sense of the word. It feels so good to have sex when you’re pregnant, but Dave never wants to. He doesn’t like my body right now. And when you looked at me tonight—hell when I moved in—I felt pretty again.”

Claire had put on some sweet vanilla perfume, and when she stretched out next to me, it filled my nose and befuddled my senses. With all she had said, I understood that she hadn’t been as oblivious as I’d supposed. She was lonely and needed to feel like a woman, not just a soon to be mother, and she knew I would be happy to oblige.

“Claire, I’ve never been with a pregnant woman. I don’t want to hurt you. Is it safe?”

“Completely safe,” she assured me, rolling onto her side to embrace me, the fullness of her swollen breasts pressed to my side as her lips grazed my temple. “I’ll tell you if you need to stop.”

I had to embrace her. I could not resist all that softness and beauty just within my grasp. When I reached for her, she gently placed one hand on my chest to stay my movements. With delicate precision, she carefully pulled each button of my shirt through its corresponding hole, sliding it off my shoulders with my help.

My pants followed, and soon she sat up to strip off my socks, then settled back against me, her breasts and belly warm weight against my side.

“You know,” she began, bending to nuzzle my throat. “I saw your cock hanging out when I first came in, and it took all the will power I had not to bend over and kiss it.”

I felt myself flush. Not only at what Claire had seen, but also at her brazen reaction to it.

“Well, let me just take care of you right now, pretty lady.”

With a soft smile, Claire let me roll her onto her back, her skin almost glowing in the faint light, her eyes closing to leave shadows from her lashes on her cheeks. I didn’t want to crush her, but carefully rolled on top of her, supporting my weight with my upper arms as I brushed my lips over her cheek. A shudder raced through her, and she appeared to be fighting back the urge to tackle me instead.

I kissed her forehead, eyes, cheeks, chin, and finally returned my attention to her lips. She opened her mouth to my tongue, and we let them swirl and mingle with one another the way fond lovers would instead of with lusty abandon, though that is what I longed for with all my being. As the weight of my stiff cock rested against her thighs, I felt her shift and part them slightly, endearing herself to me and assuring me that her desires matched my own.

I slipped my arms beneath her back for a moment, lost in the heat of our kiss and the warm silk of her hair against my arms. But she began to wriggle and seemed uncomfortable, so I propped myself up yet again, afraid to put too much weight on her belly.

Disengaging my lips from hers, I began to kiss down her throat to her full breasts. The nipples were a pale strawberry pink and very erect. She gently caught my chin, clearing her throat to speak.

“Umm, I just want you to know that sometimes I leak a little. I don’t want you to freak out.”

“I know,” I whispered, reverently stroking the hot fleshy orbs with my palms. A coworker of mine had told us the story of his eight months pregnant wife riding him, and of how her nipples had begun to leak all over them both. I didn’t have a pregnant woman fetish, but this somehow stirred my libido in ways I couldn’t explain. “It’s okay, Claire. You’re beautiful. Just perfect the way you are.”

With deliberate slowness, I stuck out my tongue to gently flick her right nipple. Until now, she had been watching me avidly, but when I repeated this act again, she moaned and shut her eyes, her body tossing restlessly beneath me.

I repeated it with her left, and then moved back and forth between the two, conscious of every sharp inhalation and of the way her nipples seemed to grow even firmer against my tongue. When I started to suckle them, she clutched my wrists, digging her carefully manicured nails into my skin as her breathing increased.

Like she warned, I did taste a bit of colostrum leaking from her left nipple. It was slightly thick and sweet, and I figured I had better ease up on her breasts and move on to other parts of her body before she noticed and thought better of what we were doing.

Thom Yorke sang on in the background as I sat up, placing a hand on each of her silken thighs to part them and drape them over my own spread legs. Heat radiated off her body and I decided I would have her dripping before I even touched her vagina. I didn’t even look at it, but instead focused my attention on her legs.

I sat back to begin giving her a massage, starting with her feet. They were petite and a little swollen, but I was not surprised given how much she was on them all day.

Claire moaned in pleasure and contentment as I worked, and I watched as one of her hands strained around her protuberant belly to reach for my jutting organ. I gently patted it, then firmly pushed it down to her side.

“Just relax, Claire. I want to make you feel good.”

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