Working Up A Sweat

I wanted to call this post "Dealing with our preferences at home, at work, and in society in general", but then thought better of it. I was compelled to post after a situation that happened where I work yesterday.

My work team consists of a core of ten people, and because of the kind of work we do, we tend to have very close working relationships. We also meet once a week for a staff meeting. At this week's meeting, one of our team members announced that she was pregnant. This wasn't that unexpected -- we had all attended her wedding last year, and we knew she and her husband wanted children. But...then she said she was pregnant, about 8 weeks, and was due in July. That was reality. None of the other females on my team have been pregnant since I've worked here. As I took in the words she was saying, I knew my pupils were dilating. I shifted in my seat, as I suddenly became very aware that I was becoming excited at the image of her soon-to-be expanding curves. She's not even my type, I thought, but the subtle teasing of my id was not to be ignored.

I chastised myself. I mean, it's great self-knowledge to know what your triggers are, but for god's sake, you have to show a little self-restraint now and then, too. I went home and thought about how I should handle this (I know, this is all very egocentric. She's the one who's pregnant. Just focus here for a moment).

Well, there was a confluence of events that happened last night. I posted the video below this post of "Skinny", and those women were rattling around in my head. Very erotic. Then I saw another image on a blog relating to someone in a bikini. That got mixed in with the video. Then this news from my co-worker. I went to sleep with all this stimuli. Something had to give. I worked it out in a nice, warm shower the next morning.

I am at a point in my life where I refuse to not allow lust a way in to my brain. Lust makes anything possible. Lust is good.

This morning, I knew I needed to diffuse the tension between what I was feeling and my co-worker. I IM'ed her and told her congratulations again for the great news. I also told her that she was going to look so cute and sexy with a big, pregnant belly. She is about 6'1" or so, and has an athletic, slim build. She laughed it off, saying she was interested in what she would look like herself. I told her, in an off-hand way, that I'd have to watch myself, because I found pregnant bellies very attractive. She tool it in the spirit intended, laughed, and said "I love it when you stop by my office to chat...you always have a way of making me laugh." Ahh, off the hook.

It will be a fun seven months. And it made me wonder...we all have our little preferences or fetishes, if you prefer (if not, why are you reading this blog?). How do you deal with stimulating events that happen out of your comfort zone at home? For example, ever get so turned on at work that you had to get yourself off right then and there? I have. Thank goodness for the big, roomy, accessible stalls at work. How about you? Share a sexy story with me in the comments, or via email at: explore.eros@gmail.com

EE

Lo-rider: "Skinny"

OK, you want to really know what turns me on? Check out this video from a group called Lo-rider for their song "Skinny". They would have to use a few crowbars to pry me away from any of these women. I cannot stop watching it. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

*This* is celebrating yourself, this is celebrating curves, this is celebrating voluptuousness, this is being sexy as hell.

Wow, I need a shower now.

EE

An Open Post To The Feedees

Hi. You don't know me, and that's fine. However, you may find yourself a bit similar to me. If you have been searching Google or Technorati or some other engine for words like "feedee" or "belly", you may have come across this blog. Wonderful! Come on in; I've got very comfy places to sit.

The reason I called you by today is to give you a restful place. Looking around at all the Blogger and MySpace and LiveJournal pages out there, there is no shortage of men and women coming to realize that they have a singular fascination with themselves, their belly/bust/hips etc., and their weight. Only this is not a bad thing for you; this is something to celebrate. Wonderful! This space, ExplorEros, is safe space. If you look around a bit, you'll see a few stories I've written over the years, most posted on Dimensions Magazine's online repository; others I wrote for various private feeder/feedee newsletters. However, there was a reason I eventually got out of it, and it was the exploitation of the feedee that I saw around me. Well, on many of the online journal sites, I see it happening again, so I wanted to post about it, letting you know that I know it happens, and understand how you may feel.

Now this post is mainly for the younger folk who have recently decided to explore this fascination with themselves online. You may have felt for many years that you were crazy, that you were the only one in the world who felt this way about your belly, how it looks and feels to you, and how it feels when it's filled, or maybe when you put your clothes on around it. Well, you of course are not alone in this, and welcome to the online world! As many of you have found, there are many communities around the web that are there to help you feel a sense of connectedness to others who feel as you do. Bravo! You're on your way to really exploring this part of yourself.

But, the downsides are there as well. This part goes out to the women reading this. You will find that the feeder community will welcome you, and then some of the males will try to smother you. Being a female online is hard enough, with all the propositioning that you must endure from time to time. Add a particular focus on something a male feeder finds a fascination with -- your belly, or an interest in feeding it -- and things may get scary for you very quickly. You may be deluged with email from men who will hound you for photos of yourself (more specifically, your belly), ask you to go on your webcam with them, ask no other questions than how much you currently weigh -- and then remain silent when you want to engage in just friendly conversation outside of these areas.

Now, notice that I didn't say that any of this fascination about yourself is wrong, or that the increased communication is unwanted -- the sense of validation you receive when you become part of a shared experience is fantastic. I myself have a particular appreciation for enlargement fantasy; just look around this blog. However, I also want you to know that there are folks out there who exist solely to prey upon men and women (though much more on women)to accommodate their need to get off on this part of you, without necessarily caring about the *entire* you. This is exploitation. This is not fun. And I know it exists.

So, just as there are bad, manipulative folks out there, there are plenty of wondeful individuals who will encourage you to explore this part of yourself. And so, now that I've given my warning to you, what can you do here instead to celebrate this part of you?

Well, I'd like to feature you on these pages. For each person willing to share a bit about themselves, I'd love to have you send me an email, to explore.eros@gmail.com, and in it, tell me about how you first discovered this fascination with your body, your feelings at the time, and what excites you about it now. If you want to send along a photo to accompany the story, that's fine, or you can certainly leave it out. I also want to make all this safe for you by keeping it as anonymous as you'd like. If you don't wish me to share your online name, or email, just let me know. As I receive them, I'll post them as time permits. If you were asking me, I first discovered my belly fascination with a combination of pregnant relatives, and the realization that stuffing things down below felt really good; but you can read that elsewhere on this blog :) Tell me your favorite ways to feel full these days (they don't always have to be food!) ;) ...tell me whatever you'd like to share. And then see what happens when you realize that you are part of a larger community, and that some folks really are here to celebrate you, as they celebrate themselves.

I hope this post finds you well, in love (or lust), and looking to find out more about you while you share your story with others.

EE

Overheard At Lunch

As I was waiting in the cafeteria where I work to checkout, this conversation between two 20-something girls:

G1: So she's been back from the surgery for a while now, and she stopped by last night. Oh my god, she looks awesome now! You should see how they did the implants...you can hardly tell that there was any incision at all!

G2: Wow, that's great! So what do they look like? I can't imagine her bigger.

G1: Well, she let me see them *and* feel them (giggle). They aren't hard at all, they look and feel real!

G2: And how is ____ feeling about herself now?

G1: Oh man, it's like she's a different person! She says that she loves how they look and feel now. With them bigger, she feels like someone filled them up with liquid, and she's really packed now (sly laugh). She says she loves how she fills out her tops now.

G2: That's awesome. I'd so love to have bigger boobs!


Hmm, looks like even the 'normal folk' have inflation dreams now and then :)

EE

A Way With Words: Aural Fixation

In my wanderings around the online world over the years, I was fortunate enough to meet various women who did share, to a certain extent, the fantasies that I have. Reading through a story or two of mine, you'll notice that there is a definite touch of pregnancy fantasy, but that the wish fulfillment that the fantasy brings has nothing to do with the ultimate product, the baby. In mulling this over for many years (we psych grads are nothing if not introspective), I've come to the conclusion that in my fantasy, the climax comes at the thought of the body temporarily losing control of itself, to the point where the climax is inevitable. Curves that were merely pleasing or mildly erotic now become enhanced, pushed beyond their normal limits. The rapid progression of the pregnant belly and breasts become metaphors for the building orgasm inside me.

Once explored with other women, some realized that they had a part of that fantasy within themselves. The body is an amazing vehicle for our fantasies -- both other bodies as well as our own. It's well-documented the way that society sends messages about what is deemed 'acceptable' to women and men. It's up to us to determine how much sway that societal opinion is going to have in our own lives. And I'm not talking about how we interact with others, as we very deftly put on our suits of mental armor as we deal with others in our lives. I mean how we see ourselves...and this most definitely enters the arena of play and fantasy.

Those with differing body types may all see themselves as something quite different during self-play, from being the same body shape to something with less weight or defining curves, some more, some in a different gender, with the accompanying sexual body parts to play with.

But again, there is also a focus that occurs with the thought of 'losing control' of one's body for some...and in the little bit of research I've been able to do inside the realm of fetish within the anime and hentai community, the loss of control of one's body to forces outside oneself is a very powerful theme. With this loss of control, sometimes great powers emerge.

I will admit that this last thought, that of a bit of loss of control, as well as a temporary gender swap, lies within my fantasy play centering around an exaggerated pregnancy fantasy. Other women I have met over the years also claim a sense of exaggeration coming through their play, where bellies, breasts, and other parts of them become rounder, heavier, more curved, more filled. This sense, in part, of becoming a "mother earth" type of woman held a powerful sexual release for them. This blended well with my particular fantasy play, so a few of these women became very good online friends of mine.

We quickly realized that reading each others' erotica and chat logs in private room encounters was wonderful, however another sensation was missing -- that of the voice. There is something sexually delicious about hearing a particularly effective fantasy being expressed through the spoke word directly into your own ears. And so, a private phone club was developed over the years with myself and these women who shared body-manipulation fantasies. We called ourselves the "Aural Sex Club", and would setup times to call each other when the need arose for getting off in some private time.

We were all in different stages of relationships when this all started; I was single at the time, but beginning to see someone in college. Others were married, divorced, widowed, single, seeing someone -- all realms of possibility. Some friends needed to give up the circle for various reasons, but there continues to be a core group of us that have the most wonderful shared fantasies online and off via voice. Interestingly enough, using webcams has not yet entered the realm of what we've experienced.

But, polling the group over the years, we came up with certain words that triggered an erotic nerve in our fantasies. Naturally enough, they all have to do with body parts and their various stages of being. We're all quite happy with a designation of "orally fixated", as we definitely are.

Here's some words we enjoy, when used to describe erogenous zones on the body (mostly belly, breasts, hips, butt):

full (fuller, fullness), curve (curving, curvaceous), fill (filling, filled), burst (bursting), round (rounded, rounding, rounder), pop (popping, popped), grow (growing, grown), stretch (stretched, stretching), blow (blowing up), inflate (inflating, inflated), tight (tighter, tightest, tightening), tear (tearing, torn), excite (excited, exciting), engorge (engorged, engorging), hard (harder, hardest, hardening), wet (wetter, wettest), packed, push (pushed, pushing), roll (rolling)

...to name a few. We've all gotten very good over time at setting just the right mood and triggering the right reaction in the body to send someone over the edge with wonderful regularity. Need a quick release or a long one? Can do. And it's always a mind-blowing orgasm, as well.

I was in radio for a short time, and I've often wondered if there was a market for women calling men for sexual release. I don't know enough about the market to know if that need exists, but it'd be fun to give it a try. Finding out if this specific quick body-transformational fantasy is out there amongst women has been a long pursuit, but one I'm in no hurry to complete. As the old saying goes, if you think you're alone in what turns you on, just go online. Eventually, you'll find others that share the same fantasy.

I've found some, but I'm always looking for others...

Email me if you'd like to explore this for yourself.

EE

Sexy Drive-By 1: Consider Yourself Today

Here's something to think about today and tonight. Center yourself within your body, and with some meditative thoughts, focus your attention on your sex organs -- really feel that penis that hangs down in between those thighs; ladies, feel the blood coursing through the inner and outer lips, and straight into the clit. Feel the power of your sexuality, and what power you wield. Then, if the situation presents itself, exercise your humanity and engage in whatever wonderful sex intrigues you with another, or with yourself.

Enjoy your orgasm!

ee

P.S.: Think this might be a silly idea? Think you already pay attention to what's yours? Try this then -- think about your tongue, right now, inside your mouth. Typically, we don't think about it at all. It rests there, at the roof of the mouth or just behind the teeth. But center on it now. Really think about where it's lying. Feel the moisture when you move it around.

Feel it get a little bigger in your mouth? I dare you to forget about it for a while, now...

Filling The Void

The life of a surrogate. Always something different, with different women coming to you, asking to bear their children for them. And the look of absolute love when they finally received the baby that they themselves could not bear. She enjoyed that part, making couples happy. This last pregnancy had been a challenge. As luck (and fertility drugs) had it, she had carried five. Yes, quintuplets. She was lucky, however, in the fact that her body was extremely acceptable to the surrogate pregnancies, and her uterus retained an elasticity that made carrying one or five just as easy. Easy, she chuckled to herself. If they only knew. 

For in reality, she loved the feeling of pregnancy. The body changes. The stimulation of the breasts, and their growth. The general feeling of well being as the pregnancy hormones took effect and her body became a perfect vessel for nine months, give or take. But by far her favorite, most cherished part of her nine-month odysseys was her belly. Her uterus swelling, her belly accommodating it, and the whole feeling of enormous weight and gravity in front of her, with her everywhere, apparent when she stood, sat, walked, slept. She always secretly wished that one of these times, she'd need to be confined to bedrest. Then she could just concentrate on eating right, and growing that massive belly girth that she enjoyed. 

But right now, the need was different. She had delivered her five, and was back home. It was a few days later, and the easy delivery had left her missing the whole experience. Bottom line, it came down to wanting that belly again, to the need to be so filled. That brought her to the present time, and the package she received today.

A friend of hers online had told her about it, and she had to order one for herself. She blushed a bit now as she opened the package. "Waterbelly Willy" it read, and as she opened it at the kitchen table, she saw what to her looked like a regular jellied dildo. Heck, she had plenty of toys like this within easy reach. But then, as she took it out of its packaging, she saw what now made it different. The end of it, at the base, had a nozzle attachment for water hookup. And the rest of it, well it looked realistic enough, felt very pliable. She grasped the length of it with a practiced hand, and felt its heft. The question was, would it fill her enough? Well, she'd soon find out. 



She took the coil of white hose that was included in the package, and figured out how to attach it to the base of the Waterbelly Willy. She then went to her bedroom and arranged the pillows so that she could prop her back up in a comfortable position. This done, she went in to the small bathroom connected to the room, and hooked the faucet adapter to the brass fixture. She uncoiled the tubing, finding that there was plenty to reach her bed and then some. According to the wonderfully concise directions in the package, she was now supposed to "Arouse self to supply sufficient moisture. Insert Willy. Turn on water supply. Enjoy. Use at own discretion." Woohoo, how exciting could you get? Shrugging her shoulders, she decided to go for it. A gleam appeared now in her eye. And she began to think of the possibilities. 

She decided to just lean back, and think over the last few months of her latest pregnancy. The size and shape of her belly then. The roundness. The way it made her feel to move around with it. Soon, she knew with a chuckle that she had acquired the requisite amount of moisture to do the job. She took Willy from where it lay on her nightstand, and slowly eased it up and down against her mound, feeling its surface softly move across her clean-shaven skin. Slowly, she teased it around the sides of her outer pussy lips, teasing it in and out of her folds, getting it slick with her juices...then, inserting it partially so that just the head slipped in, she rolled it around, and pressed up towards the top of her at the same time. The pleasure was immediate, and striking. Mmm, this could definitely work, she thought to herself, as she slid the rest of it into herself. It fit wonderfully, and felt very smooth and cool inside her. 

She now had to stifle a laugh as she looked down to see a hose trailing out from her pussy, leading to the bathroom. Well now, what a problem. I don't want to have to go back and forth between the bed and the sink to check the water pressure. Well, I'll fill it a little and then work with that. That settled, she eased herself up off the bed, went over to the bathroom faucet, and turned on both hot and cold sides...a little more hot, so that it would be warmer. She then hurried back to the bed and nestled herself into the mountain of pillows she had prepared. The water took its time to travel through the entire length of the tubing, and in that half-minute or so, she worked the dildo around inside of her again, started again to think her erotic thoughts about her belly and breasts, and waited for a change. 

She didn't have to wait long. When the water ran its course and hit the bottom of the Waterbelly Willy, the result was instantaneous. She felt the water enter the dildo and run its length, feeling nicely warm. It plumped out inside of her a bit, fattened a little. Ooh, this feels nice. And then, she could feel the head of it swell inside of her...swell, and stretch. It felt as if it knew its way inside her, and was seeking something. As she worked it around with one hand, her legs spread out to either side, she felt it find its mark. It bumped the top of her cervix, then retracted just a bit. Nahh, this thing didn't have a mind of its own...what was it up to? Then she figured it out; it had retreated a bit because it now started to plump out to the sides. It was growing fatter inside of her. The sensation was wonderfully, deliciously, sensual. 

Oh God, she thought. The feeling...wanting to be so full again. Wanting to have something, anything inside of me to fill that space between my legs and up within my womb.

This was unlike any dildo she had ever used. The water supply chugged along merrily from the faucet, through the hose, and in between her welcoming legs. Pushing, filling, stretching. She then thought about her recently vacated uterus, and reached down with one hand to rub the stretched out portion of belly skin she carried with her. Another week or so, and the lack of pregnancy hormones would really start firming her back into shape. Breastfeeding also sped the process along. But here she was still in her post-partum state, and she was ready to be full again within. 

The Waterbelly grew more and more sideways, ballooning within her. It then reached the sides of her womb, and settled for a moment. The sense of fullness inside her was wonderful. She gingerly moved her legs to the side of the bed, and stood. The weight inside her felt snug and plump. She walked slowly to the bathroom, only half-aware she was doing so. She was enjoying too much the familiar feeling of the pregnant waddle she loved so much. She reached the faucet, and without giving it a second thought, turned the water on harder. 

Standing in the bathroom, she closed the door behind her, and took a look in the full-length mirror that was attached there. There was a slight belly forming already at her middle, plumping up the flesh that had so loosely hung there before. She was amazed -- and as she stood there, admiring her profile, it was already shifting some more. She had to place one hand on the sink counter to catch her balance -- she was filling out quite rapidly now. The Waterbelly had managed to seal itself against any leaks, as she felt nothing dripping from her, except her own excitement. She opened the lid to the toilet and sat down. Cupping her hands under her now expanding waistline, she watched as her womb pushed outwards, inflating more and more, and taking her tummy with it. She then noticed that her breasts had not let the excitement escape their notice. Her nipples were plumped up, and as she squeezed one, it hardened in response, and a small trickle of milk emanated from the tip. She then held both in her hands, and pushed them together in the middle -- and what a middle! It was rising to the occasion, and reaching more towards her breastbone. Her belly now pushed her legs more to the sides, and it became clear that she once again had the familiar curves of a heavily pregnant woman. She played with her clit there, observing it in the mirror and seeing how fully plumped it had become, and how deeply wine colored. And still the device inside her pumped on. 



After being mesmerized for 10 more minutes, one hand on her bulging belly, one playing with herself, she decided to get up again and move back to the bed. She staggered to her feet, reeling with the new weight after so recently being emptied. She grabbed for the towel bar that was across from the sink. Her belly now lurched forward, pulling all the weight in front of her and down...she was forced down into a semi-squatting position as she grappled with the overblown belly that now loomed before her. It took her a few tries before she could get upright again. Then, her backside arching incredibly, she waddled and heaved her way back to the bed. In her haste, she had forgotten to turn off the faucets. 

Mmm, she ached...but it was the kind of ache she was looking for. She plopped herself down onto the bed, and wrestled with herself to try and get her left leg up onto the bed. It wouldn't go. She tried grabbing under her knee and lifting, but her passion had created a fine sheen of sweat over her body. Finally, she gave up fighting with it, and leaned back onto the bed, then rolled sideways. The sound of all the water shifting inside of her was a cascade of waves, bounces, and crashes. She got to her side, then bent her knees and lifted the right leg to rest her thigh against her belly. She was barely able to, but managed to kick at the sheet and cover enough to bring it within grabbing distance. She pulled them both up to her chin, then reached underneath the sheet and cradled her burgeoning belly with both arms, and her thighs. The water slowly gurgled on.

She felt warm, comfortable, safe...filled. More and more. Content with the feeling that she had turned the water off, her eyelids started to close on her. She thought back, dreamily, to the fun she had had in her last months being pregnant, when she went to the swimming pool dressed in the largest maternity bathing suit she could find. One-piece, it was stretched out to maximum just attempting to hug all her huge curves at once. But oh, could she float then...float...float...she drifted off to sleep. 



It's an amazing bit of creation, the uterus. From a muscular sac that starts out the size of about a fist, it can expand when filled and cajoled many times its size. In this case, it had done work, overtime, and holiday pay as well. She awoke out of a dream where she had been floating in a pool but then the next thing she knew she was leaning against the wall at the bottom of an empty pool. She opened her eyes with a start. She figured her dream out in a flash...she had drained the pool. 

She looked, puzzled, at the bedspread she had pulled over her. From her vantage point, she saw a big mound in the middle of the bed, like she had stuffed a few pillows under her to sleep on, like she did when she was pregnant. But she didn't remember doing that before her nap. Also, her left leg, under her, had gone completely asleep, numb. She hated that. The pins and needles feel when it woke back up was torture. Then, she realized that, even though she was under the covers, her belly was very cold. She felt an aching in her right leg now...and her right arm hurt too. Now a bit worried, she reached up and threw back the sheet and comforter.



The water had been left on. The warm water had run out...minutes...hours ago? She wasn't sure. However, she was sure, incredibly, of what she saw before her. Her uterus had kept expanding, like a giant old-fashioned waterbottle. Her uterus, being made of bands of tissue that crossed in front of itself, had ballooned and swelled out to occupy most of the rest of the bed to the right side. Except for the connecting muscle strips between the uterus. The effect was that of rolls of fat, with a huge inner-tube shape, then a valley back in to the middle, then another tube shape...one stacked over another, seven total she counted. Then, the massive indentation right down the top of her belly, splitting it in half side to side. She was like a massive, segmented beachball. Her uterine muscles had given their all; her stomach walls had followed, totally losing all tone to stretch to their capacity. When the fluid got too much for her belly cavity, it had flowed down to her thighs, swelling them to the point where each felt like an overstuffed sausage. Finally, apparently the internal pressure in her was too much to allow more water in the dildo; the coiled hose had disconnected from between her legs at some point, and had fallen to the floor. She could imagine the water soaking the carpeting now. 

She then attempted to roll from her left side on to her back. Like she imagined the Michelin Man must feel, she couldn't get herself to budge...she was too solid with liquid. Her thighs pumped against each other, to little avail. She reached under her overswollen breasts to grab her left underarm, then her shoulder. With a massive tug, three total, she began to roll to her back. It was a wild, slow motion, progressive sight. First her butt rolled right, then she felt her right leg tumble up, over, and down to the bed, then her belly began its arc. It started to go straight up, then buckled over to the left again, and the fluid sort of emptied from the bottom of her to rush to her right side, resettling the cargo on deck of this huge freighter of a body. Her sheet and comforter had long since been pushed off her by this activity; she now saw all of her in her monumental glory. Overswollen breasts, pushed to the sides of a massive, rounded, inner tube constructed belly, and fat thighs that pulsed with the sound of pressure, and wetness. She'd figure out how to get out of bed and empty all of this later. Right now, she didn't have much time to think of her peril. She felt the undulating waves of sensual pleasure build up within that overstuffed belly, deep down inside her clit and mound and vagina...her fertile crescent, she moaned, as the mere action of moving side to side built up the pressure inside her, brought her to the precipice of orgasm, then pushed her over the edge as she felt down, grasping and lifting her left breast with one hand and pinching, teasing her swollen nipple, while the other hand traced the curvature of her belly, unbelievably round, inordinately stretched, harboring the capacity for not one, but at least two full sets of sextuplets... She moaned softly to herself as the wave broke, and the orgasm shuddered and shook her body, sending ripples against her tightly stretched body...mmm, two full sets, yesss...and full-grown, too...

That Sexy, Conspiratorial Look

After I found myself at college, far away from the house I grew up in, I reveled in my new freedom. I became involved in student activities, and lived on campus for two years, and was a residence adviser (RA) for a year. The benefits of being an RA included your own single room in the dorms, and a small stipend. It was great to have a door capable of being locked at times, when I wanted to be alone to play, or share with a certain female companion.

My third year at college, I moved off-campus to a newer apartment community that had sprung up around the fringes of the college. I also was heavily involved in my psychology curriculum, and loved just about all of my classes. It was in a class that involved teaching the correct way to interview subjects, and how to create and deliver a proper questionnaire, that I met her.

We both had a tendency to come in last-minute to class, so we sat towards the back, usually within just a seat or two of each other. We got paired up once for an in-class assignment, and seemed to hit it off pretty well, so we sought each other out for assignments from then on. She had an easy laugh, long blondish hair, and knew how to speak about sex in casual conversation, in a clinical conversation, or when we were just being stupidly silly.

She also had a steady boyfriend. Isn't that the way it goes? Well, I was in-between relationships at the moment, so I figured that the "our time" we shared in class would be enough. I didn't know it would become more than that.

One day, we'd paired up as usual to complete an assignment in-class. This one was asking questions off a questionnaire to gauge when someone had first experience masturbation, what the experience was like, if fantasy was involved, and if so, what seemed to trigger the erotic feelings...an image, a sound, a smell? Well, it turned out that our instructor wanted it paired up male/female on this, so it worked out wonderfully for us. When it got to the part where she needed to ask the questions, I could hear her breath catch a bit when she heard that, for me, my earliest masturbation experience involved fantasizing about having a pregnant belly. She handled it wonderfully though, and went right through the rest of the questions, and then I asked her. After the class was over, on the way out, she asked me, point blank..."how much of that was real, and how much made-up?". I told her the answers were as real as the ones she gave me. "Hmmm, interesting" she said. She gave a low, conspiratorial chuckle, and then was on her way home.

I asked her, off-handedly, if she lived on-campus. Yes, she said, with my boyfriend. She told me where, in case we ever needed to study together -- it was about three buildings down from my off-campus apartment.

Fast-forward six months or so. We've built quite a friendship, and she has hung around with Mr. Steady though this time. She misses two classes one week, and then leaves a message on my answering machine asking for notes from them. When I finally get a chance to catch up with her, she gives me the news -- she is pregnant, and Mr. Steady, well, was actually Mr. Not-So-Much. He had freaked out, didn't want any part of this, and it had all ended badly. She was going to have the baby, but definitely wanted to give it up for adoption. I immediately volunteered to help her through whatever she needed. She thanked me and said that would be great.

It turned out to be a good bonding experience between her, me, her close girlfriends, and, in the end, her parents. All this is prelude to what happened one summer evening, when she was about 7 months along.

Having known my sexual preference in fantasy, she invited me over to share some pizza and watch a movie on a Friday night. I happily obliged, throwing on my sweats and a college shirt. Once we ate some slices, and sat down to watch the movie on her couch, we talked back and forth about recent news with our mutual friends. I asked her how she was feeling now, and she got that fun, conspiratorial look in her eye again as she cocked her head slightly towards the side. "I have a question for you", she said. She kept her gaze level with mine. "I know you love fantasizing about pregnant women...have you ever fantasized about me? Be honest, now." What could I say? I told her the truth, that ever since her belly and breasts had begun to expand a few months back, that she had become my major fantasy that kept me occupied when I did get off. I hoped she would take it well. I hoped she wouldn't hit me. "Well, I kinda figured." She laughed, snorting a bit. Then this..."so, dontcha think it's time you try this pregnancy thing out for a bit?". My mind reeled. The only thing I could remember was that, a while back in class, we had talked about pregnancy simulators for men, which was a specially-formed suit that some counselors used for men to experience a bit of what it might feel like to be pregnant...however, I knew they were expensive, and I didn't think she had one stashed around her apartment anywhere. "Hang on a sec." she said. She slowly got herself off the couch, said "Don't peek; I'll be a few minutes", then headed back for the kitchen, rummaged around for a bit, then headed to the bathroom.

I was intrigued. I was excited. I could feel my pulse pounding in my neck.

After a few minutes, she called me back to the bathroom. When I got there, I saw the scenario she had laid out for me. In the bathtub, she had her soft, white vinyl bath pillow she used to prop her head up when she took baths...which were getting more infrequent these days, since she had grown larger and her center of gravity was thrown off. She had pulled up a chair next to the tub, and asked me to get in. Before I did though, she had me put a huge garbage bag she had found up inside my shirt, and had me pull the open end of the bag through the neck of the shirt. Then she had me tie off the drawstrings on my sweatpants a little tighter. "You ready now," she said. "Kick off those shoes and socks, and I hope you don't mind getting a little wet, potentially." She also twirled around in her hand the removable shower head on a long hose that she had detached from inside the tub. "Time for you to get pregnant, young man."

She very obviously saw the erection that shoved through the front of my sweats. "Aww, that's sweet" she said, noticing. "Time for a little workout. How much weight do you think that thing of yours can support?" I was speechless. "Well, hop in, let's see". I did as I was told.

Resting against the vinyl pillow, I moved my legs apart a bit on the bottom of the tub. She meanwhile turned on the water experimentally, testing the temperature by running it into the sink next to the tub. When she got it to a nicely warned temperature, she turned back towards me. "This won't hurt a bit" she said, as she snaked the showerhead into the top of the bag under the neck of my shirt. She tied it off with a twist-tie. "Here we go, one preggo male, coming up!" She turned on the water.

The results were very comical, and very sensual. The water flowed into the bag, and the bag filled up under my shirt, giving me a fast version of what she looked like. As I expanded, the "belly" came to rest on my erection, and the pressure it caused was tremendous. At one point, she had me try getting up, but as I leaned forward, the bag threw my balance off, and all I could manage was to fall back, helpless under this mad scientist's experiment.

She let me grow more, and as I expanded, she slipped a hand under the multi-month belly I now hard, and found my waistband...undoing it, she slipped her hand down to my erection, and began rubbing it, bouncing her hand off the water-filled bag above, then coming down hard on my shaft. I got so into what she was doing, I lost track of the water, and closed my eyes...when I opened them about a minute later, my shirt was all but filled, and my pseudo-pregnant belly was so big that the sides were now coming up the sides of the bathtub itself. I was now a massive water belly with some legs and arms attached. She took pity on me then, and got me off after a few minutes more. We then drained the bag (almost a story in itself), and got my wet self out of the tub. Now dripping, she asked me to just leave my stuff in the tub, and that she'd wash them and get them back to me before I left. I obliged, and, rather longingly, looked at her now naked and very pregnant form. "Come on," she said now, "You're soaked. Let's get you dry, and then we can get back to the movie...later". With one last conspiratorial look, she toweled me off, and then led me by the hand back to her bedroom instead. The movie and pizza would have to wait.

--

Epilogue: Inspired by this real-life adventure, I got two stories out of it -- Filling The Void, and Pregnant Paws. I'll present Filling The Void next, then save the other for some other time.

ee

Stuffing Time

It was while she was getting ready to stuff her turkey for her holiday feast that she got the idea. The bird was a beauty, a 25-pounder that would prove to be just a wonderful centerpiece to her holiday dinner. She lived alone, and preferred it that way...at least, most of the time. She occasionally wished for some companionship, male or female, that could appreciate her for who she was, and her views on what excited her sexually. And then there was the feeding...she had always been comfortable with her body, and it fit her just fine. At 5'5", short brown hair, blue eyes, she looked like a compact yet soft bundle of energy...except for her belly. That was her crowning glory, that which she took the most pride in. She found out early on in her life that, when she gradually began to put on weight in her early adolescence, it almost all tended to settle in her belly region. At first, she was not sure if she would like it that way, as she imagined problems fitting clothes, getting dates, and other worries of other normal teenage girls. But then, after a few relationships that went nowhere for her, emotionally or mentally, she decided that she was her own best friend, and could get along just fine without any personal attachments. Well, except for her cat, Ophelia, that is.

Her life and adventures as a feedee had always been a private issue for her, and, although it certainly became public when she went out into the outside world, her body shape was of her design, and the extremes she sometimes went to in filling it out were her business alone. She loved to get comfy at home, preferably in bed, spread her legs apart to allow for expansion, and then start filling herself with food. She currently possessed a 54" belly, almost all out front, and she loved feeling that familiar euphoria as the hormones would kick in as she would stuff herself, slowly, with each taste of food. Soon she would feel her tummy filling out, and it would be all pleasure from there. Ah, the life of a feedee...

Her attention was drawn back to her project at hand. She had been preparing the stuffing mix for her bird, and noticed that it used a new kind of bread for the stuffing. With everything going miniaturized and concentrated these days, like laundry detergents, it's a wonder it took this long to get to food, she supposed. According to the instructions on the side of the package, only a minuscule amount of the breadcrumbs were needed to stuff a relatively large turkey. It seemed that, when water was added to the bread crumbs, they would swell over twenty times their original size with water and turkey juices, producing a perfectly stuffed turkey with a minimum of effort. A small fire had been lit then in some dark recess of her mind, and she could feel the flame begin to burn into a white-hot pinpoint of sexual energy within her. She arched her eyebrow without really thinking about it, and kept looking between the stuffing box, and the turkey. Then the bread crumbs in the bowl, and the box. Absently, she rubbed her belly through the stretchy workout jumper that she loved to wear, because it provided form-fitting snugness with no constriction, allowing her belly to move where it wanted to. She left the turkey right where it was on the counter, along with all the fixings in their respective bowls, put her coat on, and left for the grocery store. Ophelia had all she could do to keep herself from devouring the turkey where it stood on the counter.



When she returned some forty minutes later, she had just about bought out the store's supply of the stuffing mix. She remembered the details only vaguely, as her sexual flush was beginning to dominate her thinking more and more. She did remember telling a distinctly nosy clerk that she worked for the local homeless shelter and that she needed all the stuffing mix to prepare meals for them all. She also vaguely swiping her ATM card through the reader at the checkout, and driving home with her new treasure. But now that she had returned home, the turkey on the countertop would just have to wait. She quickly pushed all of her meal items out of the way, and took out the bulk family-sized boxes of stuffing mix out of her grocery bag. She avoided the requisite bags of seasoning mix, as she wasn't interested in any of the spice. She proceeded to place a few bags of the magic, tiny breadcrumbs in a mixing bowl, then beat them and mashed them and disintegrated them into a fine powder. She was amazed at how far she could actually reduce their bulk. What was apparently the amount necessary to stuff a 20-pound turkey ground down to only about a quarter cup when she was done. Oh, this would do just fine, she thought...just fine indeed. She kept adding bags of breadcrumbs, and kept grinding.



An hour later, she was prepared. What had been a flurry of activity, what with the tearing off of boxtops, and the grinding of the breadcrumbs, and the pouring into an ever-filling large mixing bowl, had now given way to a slower, more relaxed pace. She had the means of her journey...now it was time to enjoy the fruits of her labor.

She tidied up in the kitchen, putting the turkey back into the fridge, and putting all the chopped-up vegetables into little plastic bags, to be used some other time, and putting peeled potatoes into little Tupperware containers. She neatly stored all the half-emptied boxes of stuffing mix into the trash compactor, and threw the switch. All that finished, she fed Ophelia, gave her a new bowl of fresh water, then left the water at the sink running while she rummaged around in the kitchen cabinets until she found what she had hoped would be there -- a large, two-gallon water pitcher. She filled it under the tap with cool, but easily drinkable water, then brought it into her bedroom, where she put it on a night table by her bed. She then came back to the kitchen, and retrieved her bowl of stuffing powder. Enough to fill a one-gallon container dry. She took a loaf of bread out of the breadbox with her at the last minute. This meal's going to need a little more palatability.


Once in her bedroom, she shut the French doors that entered in on it, and secured them. Ophelia mewled once or twice at being left out of the fun, but she eventually gave up the fight, and went to settle herself by the patio door, to enjoy the last remaining rays of sunlight, and to perhaps catch a quick nap. Now then, determination was key here. She knew that what she needed to do would take much concentration. She had to eat all of this breadcrumb powder dry if this were to work at all. That was where the loaf of bread would come in. She knew she couldn't drink any water until she was all done. She didn't know how her own inner body fluids would affect the powder. She would have to chance it, and see how it would go. She started at her task. She propped her pillows up behind her, sat up with her legs slightly apart, and then felt a small chill, so she covered up her legs with the topmost comforter on the bed. She meditated for a moment, massaging her belly for the work ahead, and its glorious conclusion. Then, she took a piece of bread from the loaf, poured some of the breadcrumb powder on it, then folded it in half. She took a big bite of it and almost gagged...how dry! For a moment, she thought that this might be a desperately stupid idea. How did she even believe that she could consume all this, and then finish off her plan? She sat there, with half of her sandwich in her mouth, feeling the bread soften up and become a little more sweet as the starch turned to sugar. She hesitated just a moment, then swallowed. Not so bad, not so bad...this is doable. After a moment's rest, she took out another piece of bread, and repeated the ritual. By her fourth piece of bread, she was on her way to her goal.



As she progressed, she found two things were happening simultaneously. She got to be better at stuffing more of the powder onto her bread slices as she went, which made for a quicker way to devour the powder, and she found that, about midway through her journey, she could feel a definite weight and familiar fullness begin to build within her stomach. Just a reminder to her that she was being filled. Her id, ego, and superego had all duked it out inside her head a while back, and now she as being driven on by the pure euphoria of filling her belly, of stretching it to the limit. Nothing less would now satisfy it but total, full capacity. She chewed more and more, wolfing down more of her impromptu mixture...then, after a while longer, she ran out of bread. Oof...rubbing her belly, she could tell that it was now beginning to get quite packed in there. But how would she finish the rest of the powder? No time to worry about it now...she took the bowl containing what was left of the powder, and placed some into her mouth. Working up a bit of saliva, she found she could get it down, although at a slower pace than with the bread. A half hour later, she had met her first goal.



With great anticipation, she rubbed her belly. She could feel the stuffing crumbs inside her, and with what little moisture was in her stomach, it must have caused the food to expand just a bit. It was definitely more than a little tight in there, and she tentatively moved to the side of the bed, and stood up to test her balance. When she arose from the bed, her packed belly groaned a bit in protest. She felt like a very solid mass had lodged itself right under her skin, and was waiting for its final command. She sat back down on the bed, and began stroking slow circles around her belly, and underneath. She continued this for a few minutes, then settled herself back into the bed, this time bringing the large two-gallon container of water with her. She parted her legs a bit again, got settled in the pillows, then leaned her head back, bringing the lip of the container to her mouth. When the first bit of water passed over her lips, it felt as if she had never tasted water before. The ritual of downing all those sandwiches and then the powder by itself had left her wanting and craving water more than she ever had in her life. The first few sips were tentative, then she began drinking in long, slow gulps. She felt the slightly cool water rush down her insides, heading towards her stomach to meet with its ultimate goal. She felt the familiar bloating feeling beginning to occur as her tummy began to accept the water, and move out to accommodate it. Usually, it would remain there, sloshing back and forth if she moved herself from side to side. This time, however, the water did not remain in her belly for long, as it began almost immediately to be absorbed by the bread crumbs. She paused for a few moments, savoring this new feeling. Then, she continued drinking more and more water, until she had almost finished the whole container. Setting the almost-empty container on the night stand, she then slowly moved herself back to her reclining position, parted her legs again, and began rubbing her belly.



She didn't have to wait long for the effects to be felt. The breadcrumbs went immediately to work, soaking up the surrounding water, and increasing in bulk. Twice their initial capacity...three times...four times. She felt the familiar overstuffed feeling beginning to really take hold now. She soothed her belly from outside, but could feel it being packed like never before. It felt as if every inch of space in her stomach was being found and overfilled simultaneously. She began really feeling the meal then, and if she looked closely at her stomach, she could actually see it growing out in front of her. It was rounding out wonderfully, and feeling so stuffed, so packed. Ooh, she didn't want this to end! Her mind began drifting to her favorite fantasies then, and she was lost in sexual paradise. She saw herself being asked to participate in a fertility experiment to test a new drug, and being given too much, an overdose of hormones and whatnot. Oh no, the doctors told her...you aren't going to have twins like we thought, but...10 babies! No, no...20!! Her eyes rolled back at this thought, and a small, secret smile formed on her lips. Bedrest at 2 months...nothing to do but lay there and grow...grow...grow...her belly would be huge, her belly button would pop out like a turkey thermometer! She opened her eyes then, and was amazed at the sight. She had indeed been associating the right animal for what she was feeling now. Her belly had swollen out to where she must have been at least 60" around, and it showed no signs of slowing. She felt a tremendous pressure behind her navel, and then, with a sudden POP, her belly button went from an innie to an outie! Oh my God, she screamed in sensuous, long moans, as the feeling of her stretching like this was almost too good to bear. Her pussy was soaked now, and reaching down to massage her clit, she couldn't believe the amount of lubrication she was producing. As she worked her hand and fingers over the spots she loved the best, she could feel her belly growing right over top of her hand, pressing it down, as her belly pushed her hand into her soft, swollen, wine-colored folds. Oh my...she then flashed to a crazy vision then, one that at once seemed both childish but highly sexual at the same time. She was the holiday turkey, being stuffed, fuller and fuller.

Her legs parted more and more as her belly screamed for more room. The stuffing was expanding at quite a rate now. She estimated her belly at 75" around when, some minutes later, she decided to try and stand up. She had lost sight of her navel now, and was unable to see her toes anymore. Her belly sat up high and tight on her, while also dropping lower between her legs. When she swung her legs over the side of the bed to try and stand, she found she was more straddling her own belly than she could imagine. Sitting there on the edge, her legs were almost as far apart as to be uncomfortable, and this huge inflating ball of a stomach was all in between. Slowly attempting to stand, she caught her reflection in the full-length mirror she had on one wall of the room. She almost fell back on the bed from the sight. Her belly was far bigger than she had even thought, and the blood rushed to her head when she stood. It took her a few moments to gain her balance, and then she looked in the mirror, turning sideways for the profile shot. There she was, a 5'5" woman, with a belly that started almost directly under her breasts now, and rounded out high and far, dropping almost down to her knees before disappearing in a big arc back up under her waistline. The workout suit was having all it could do just to keep everything intact on her without splitting. The fabric was stretched so much as to be almost translucent. She loved this feeling, and this look! She must have actually grown to about 80 or 85" around! She arched her back a bit, and the spandex gave way from underneath with a long, popping, ripping sound. With the switch in gravity, she needed to sit down, as her belly came rolling out of the bodysuit. Scooting her bulk back onto the bed, she slowly and cautiously inched her way back to a position where she could have her back against the wall. Then, at the last moment, she decided to see what it would look like to lie down on her back, and did that instead. Giggling lustily, she pulled the covers over top of her, and caught herself in the mirror again, now looking like someone trying to hide a small weather balloon under the sheets. She marveled at her new form, and could still feel the food in her stretching what more it could find to stretch. She literally felt ready to explode. She had never been this full before, this wholly packed. If she rolled off the bed now, that would be it for her. Her pussy ached to be touched though, and she arched her back on the bed, and angled around to where she could just reach herself under a corner of her inflated belly. She rubbed and rubbed, moaning in pleasure occasionally, and then would rest for a few minutes, savoring this feeling of being the world's largest pregnant woman, the largest stuffed turkey ever. Her mind raced with pictures she'd love to take, men and women doing to her things that were almost universally orgiastic...but always involving stuffing her with food, while hands roamed over her tummy, stroking it, massaging it, rubbing it with lotion. Oh yes, this was her erogenous zone, and always would be.

She felt the orgasms building now, and she began feelings the ripples of the first one starting its journey through her as she laid there, unable to do anything but roll her massive belly from side to side as she shook in ecstasy from the effort. She imagined clothes that she'd wear, popping off her at the belly button by delicious button, zippers popping, seams stretching then bursting. She felt every bit the Earth Mother then, wanting to be all-inclusive in her fertility, all-filled, all one. She got up enough strength to roll to one side, and through trial and error, worked herself up until she could roll onto the bed stomach-down. Her arms were on either side of her, but were far from touching the bed when she reached down. The inside of her legs near her knees were cradling the bottom of her belly now, and as she softly rubbed them up against the sides of her belly, she orgasmed again and again. She was up off the bed a few feet now, and the pressure on her stomach was tremendous. She felt ready to split apart, and her breath came in short, halting pants, especially as each orgasm worked through her body. She reached down with both arms now, and found her breasts, rolling the nipples with her fingers under they swelled with pleasure, becoming full and fat just like she now was. She then scooped down under her belly on the mattress, and just crouched there, hugging herself, both with her arms up top, and with her knees down below. She was now close to 100" around.

After a while, she grew tired of her position, and slowly rolled, first to her side, noting that she occupied almost three-quarters of the bed with her tummy sticking out so, and then, she made it to her back. As the fat settled around her, she was at last content. She was as packed as she could possibly get. There was no way she could move off the bed until the food took its course through her, though she would worry about that later. She knew that she could bring herself to a raging orgasm whenever she wished just by rubbing her legs against the side of her overstuffed middle, or by teasing her nipples, or even by just thumping her big bass drum of a belly now. Her skin looked shiny and felt stretched out to its limit. There was nothing to do but sit back and enjoy it while it lasted...Until the thirst took her over, and as she reached for the container, she had somewhat of an idea what might happen, but she could no longer stand it. She tilted the opening to her lips, then drained the rest of the container. As she drifted off to her ecstasy-laden sleep, she could almost hear the doctors as they told her, my dear, we didn't tell you to take the whole prescription at once...how could we ever possibly deliver this many kids? She, the holiday turkey, was stuffed to the gills, and was about to explode in a rush of hormones and adrenaline. If she survived, she promised herself she'd never eat turkey again. Just then, her belly passed 110", and began surpassing her ankles...

Erotic Writing For A Group

When you write erotic stories for yourself, you know what is going to turn you on. You load up on the juicy details that will push all the right buttons and lead you to a wonderful orgasm. When you write for other groups, at their request, you try to guess what will turn someone else on. You end up falling back on what you know works for you, and hope that others will derive pleasure from the same words.

I found myself with stories rolling around in my head that just needed writing. Stories of pure fiction, stories based on real events, stories based on fiction and real events. You know, stuff. So I wrote. For me. Because I already knew how weird I was. Then, in my rambling around the 'net, I discovered the Fat Admirers.

These are truly wonderful folks who not only stand behind positive self-talk for folks of size, they've got the erotic part of it nailed. In this corner, there's NAAFA (National Association for the Advancement of Fat Acceptance). They are advocating for fat folk, trying hard to get accommodations for airplane seats, for consistent sizing in all parts of life, from hospital gowns to theater seats. But, there was always another part of NAAFA that would become a very touchy subject. The FAs, or Fat Admirers. For them, there was enjoying women who were large, and then there was a range of FAs that enjoyed and found erotic women called SSBBWs, or Super-Sized Big Beautiful Women. In their fantasies, some of these men saw women go so far as to be immobilized by their size, totally dependent upon their caregivers. So yes, another group who knows what it's like to be called perverts by a majority of society.

I thought this might be a good fit for me. I am a big guy to begin with, 6'3", 300 lbs at one time. I have since lost some weight, but I've always been happy with whatever size I was at the time. So, good talk about size appealed to me. Plus, with my curvy body preference, I figure THIS was going to be the Group That Understood. I had a fetish for women who looked pregnant, and here were women that could conceivably get off on the same thing about themselves. I figured, certainly there had to be at least one woman who, as a child, began to realize that she got off on pretending to be pregnant, and then carried that into adulthood with her, to the point that she might put herself into scenarios where she might "become pregnant" by stuffing her clothes or otherwise filling herself out to look pregnant.

Can you guess how this turned out? Surprise, surprise...loving a wonderfully big belly is one thing, even going so far as to stuff that belly into oblivion -- but this is different than a erotic preference for "pregnant" play. And so, I was rejected, again. I still go back every now and then to chat and read the forums, but the site I once frequented looking for an online erotic play partner had intimated, in no uncertain terms, that fat was where it's at, but the belly is for just that -- fat. Any other use...let's say, using it in a glorious fantasy about a swollen pregnant belly and breasts -- well, that's just perverting what we're all about!

There's that word again.

I'll close this by saying that I still wrote several stories posted in the online story archive for the particular site I hung around off and on for a few years. I got a few good comments, but nothing off the charts. My first story ever published online was an ode to the upcoming holiday of Thanksgiving, titled Stuffing Time. I present it in my next post.

P.O.V., And The Blogging Pervert

I was looking at my blog the other night, after having just spilled my guts out virtually in front of myself on-screen. Then I thought about tossing it all away and deleting the blog -- again. Yes, I've made attempts at this before, because the writer inside me just won't shut up. But I also don't kid myself. If you take a look around the 'net at what others think of those with sexual preferences or fetishes (though they once meant two very different things), you'll see that, outside of the fetish community itself, there isn't much praise for being different. Of course that's how the world works, and I understand that. I also understand that there must be loads of people who say one thing then do another, because I know that the way I present myself to the outside world at my job, and in everyday situations, you would never think for a second that I might like women with extra curves in certain spots. There must be others out there.

However, here's the thing about any sort of preference surrounding a woman's body that even suggests pregnancy -- traditional thoughts of the pregnant woman never seems to rise above mild interest unless you're talking about the impending father (and that's if the mom-to-be is lucky, sometimes). Now enter me, who sees the curvature of the belly, breasts, and hips (hell, the whole body) as a turn-on, and you've got trouble. Pregnant women are helpless, and should never be looked at in an erotic way -- they've got a job to do. Oh sure, occasionally you will get the woman who says she enjoys being pregnant, being able to eat whatever she wants, having a reason to "get fat"...but ask her again after the baby comes. Time to tone up, for sure, but time to slip back into the mode of downplaying the curves and the weight once more. Pregnancy is never erotic, the body shape is never erotic. Bull.

Searching web pages and blogs, I've noticed two things. One is that, if a woman becomes pregnant, and dares to post pictures of herself while pregnant on her site, that a pregnancy fetishist will find those pictures. He (it always is a he) will then apparently hound the woman for more pictures, or to hit on her incessantly until she needs to pull not only any photos, but the whole site as well.

OK, let me make myself perfectly clear: I hate these guys. I hate them because, even if you get off on a picture of a pregnant belly (and sure, I do), you do what any self-respecting fetishist does -- you take the pictures off the site, and do what you want with them on your own time. You don't harangue the woman into a panic that you're about to show up at her door. Jesus.

The second thing I've found is that, given point number one, there is only one term for someone who finds such a body erotic -- pervert. I have pretty thick skin, but that name is really good at making someone feel even more isolated for having a "different" P.O.V. on one vision of the human female body than they already have labeled themselves.

But you see it everywhere...and the label sucks. I understand that a woman getting harassed by someone who doesn't know the boundaries is a bad thing. But to use the label as a brush to paint anyone that finds the pregnant body attractive downplays the downright lovely way the body looks at this time of her life.

And man, I wish they could see that not every guy is an idiot pervert who doesn't respect boundaries.

Some of us just want to worship you and get off on your eroticism. You know -- that quality you really aren't allowed to feel then.

I learned at an early age that, for me, the curves of the body were everything. I could care less about the baby inside. That's just me. I want to groove to everything about that overripe body type. I don't want kids myself; neither does my wife. Thank goodness. But that doesn't turn off the erotic switch. Go ahead, label me whatever you like. It won't change what I enjoy.

And so, I'm going to blog about it.

Thanksgiving's Coming, and so am I

Next week brings Thanksgiving here in the States, and this day is always an erotic tripwire for me. Why? Well, one of my sexual preferences is for the soft, round, curvy parts on women. Big surprise, right? What guy stereotypically doesn't find a big bust or butt attractive? Well, mine goes a bit farther than that. However, oddly enough, not to an extreme. Confused yet? Let me explain.

When I became aware of my body as something sexual and something I could really have fun playing with, I realized that there were many different ways of applying pressure to my penis to make it feel really good. One I came across that I really liked was applying pressure to it from the front while it was erect, therefore trapping the blood in it, prolonging the erection, and then moving my body, stomach-down, back and forth across the bed. This worked pretty well, but then I realized that more pressure could be had if I stuffed something between my legs to put pressure on my penis, thus leaving my hands free to do whatever else might help get me off. Oh, I forgot to mention...I was about 9 years old at this time. So, remember those kids pajamas with the feet attached to them? I believe they were called Dr. Denton's, but I could be wrong. Anyhow, I came up with the idea of using them for my fun. I slipped them on, and they attached at the top by means of a few round metal snaps. The waist was elastic, and the texture of these blue pj's was sort of a knubby softness. Well, I looked around, and saw a few extra blankets in my room, along with an extra pillow. I proceeded to stretch out the front of the pj's at the waist, and stuffed a blanket down the front, positioning it between my legs, so that my penis was cradled by its softness. Then I put in another blanket. As I sat on the edge of the bed doing this, I could see and feel this compact, full feeling pressing against my penis, a glorious feeling indeed. I flushed a bit as I looked at the pillow...could I get that inside me as well? I noticed that I had to really stretch the waistband a bit to get the snaps to close as it was, but I was determined. I had to make a little more room...so I stood, turned around, lay down on my stomach, and the mass just below my waist shifted a bit. My backside was up in the air, and the warm, swaddling mass between my legs had my heart pounding. I pushed forward a few times, and the blankets compacted a bit more. There. I had a little more room. I rolled over and scootched to the side of the bed again.

It felt weirdly wonderful sitting there, with this balloon-shaped bulge out from my middle. But I knew I could hold more. I unsnapped the waist, and prepared to shove the pillow in.

I wouldn't fit.

I shoved harder. The mass barely moved. No matter what I tried, I couldn't get it to go in. So finally, I slowly pulled everything down towards my ankles, giving me the room I needed. I carefully laid the pillow, length-wise, between my legs and over the mass of blankets. I then pulled the pj's back up, to snap the buttons.

I couldn't get the snaps to work.

Now here's where the vision of fantasy perfection kicks in. I was having the time of my life playing, and I was fully erect -- heck, had been since this began -- but the though of leaving this erotic game undone by the fact that I could not close those snaps, thus providing a perfectly pleasing dome of a 'belly', if you will, with no sheets or corners of pillows sticking out, but all one smooth curve -- would not do. I had to find a way.

Sitting on the edge, I lay down on my back, and edged more towards the footboard of the bed, so I could plant my feet. Then, with both palms planted against the mass in the pj's, I simultaneously pushed with my feet as I plunged down with my hands. I felt my butt rise off the bed as I hammered away, over and over again. I had to get it all in. I had to.

Finally, the mass shifted a bit downward. I had my clearance. I yanked the waist outward enough to finally...snap...the snaps...closed.

I then relaxed my back muscles, dropping to the mattress again. I had done it. I know looked (and felt) like the first pregnant boy ever. Or like the first boy to ever eat a whole Thanksgiving turkey. Whole. I ruminated over these scenarios, turning them over to examine how erotic each made me feel. I was an averaged-sized kid, a little tall for my age, and maybe a few extra pounds, but definitely not fat. The thought of these two scenarios -- pregnant, or temporarily fat -- really turned me on. As I rested from the exertion, I looked towards my left, and I could see my clothes dresser, with its mirror above the dresser top. I could just see my profile sideways, with this massive 'belly' arching up from below my waist. I put a hand over top of the mound, rubbing it around the curve, as I had seen very pregnant women do before.

I came right then. Hard.

I could simultaneously feel my body heat up as my heart rate climbed. The release was wonderful, and strong. Once it stopped, I wanted to feel it again. I knew I had it in me. I reached to my right, where the one remaining blanket on my bed still lay crumpled to the side. I grabbed it, then threw it up and over from right to left, catching it on the other side of this mountainous belly I had made. Once covered, it truly looked to me like I was a nine-month pregnant woman in bed, ready to give birth. Then I felt my penis against the mass, getting hard again.

Nine months? This was my fantasy. Why not ten? Eleven? Twelve? A solid year pregnant...with twins? As I ramped up my imaginary load, the visions of me being unable to walk, being "on bedrest", feeling ready to explode...they all ramped up with me.

I came again. Hard.

I spent a few moments relishing this, then tried for a final crescendo. I wanted to try to roll over onto my 'belly'. Still under the cover, I lunged over to my right, once, twice, trying to get the leverage to move the bulk, each time dropping back. Finally, on the third time, I launched myself just right to get a good position with my hips. I pushed myself up with my arms and my spread feet, and lifted myself off the bed long enough to roll my belly under me.

The effect was tremendous. All my writhing had really compacted and rounded out the mass between my legs, and it felt wonderfully hot down there. But I wanted more. With my backside once again lifted off the mattress, I rocked on my new, fat, gloriously pregnant belly. Back and forth. Towards the head of the bed, then sliding back. And again. And again.

I came for the third time this session, and I just kept rocking as I came, forcing it, milking it, wanting to empty myself as much as I could. My orgasm kept exploding, and I was just along for the ride.

After it was all over, I was physically exhausted. I could do nothing but lie there. I managed to roll to my side again, and rested, stroking the curve in front of me, thinking of pregnant women I had seen, with their beautiful, fat stomachs. Yes, there was a baby involved too, but I didn't care about that. I loved the form. The fat belly, arching outward. The breasts, filling with warm milk and becoming fat and round themselves. The feeling that you could explode any moment. This one, I subconsciously thanked a favorite aunt for, because she had said those exact words to me earlier that year, when she was pregnant..."I feel like I've been pregnant forever...I feel about ready to explode!"

I lay there, long enough to gain the strength to get up and empty myself out, making sure to get the wet blankets into the wash. I then went back to bed, with one hand between my legs, holding my penis, and feel asleep, dreaming as only true erotic release can allow you.

So, Happy Thanksgiving a little early. This was only a start for me. I found that this sexual preference for the rounded female form would form a delicious undercurrent to my fantasies from then on. And it has taken me to the corners of the internet, and my other friendships, to explore and search for a female counterpart to me. I've come close, but never on the mark. The search had always had its high points.

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Welcome

Hello. I am an amateur sexologist, and a voracious reader and writer. When I see all the wonderful blogs out there from fellow explorers, it makes me wonder if I could compete in the same arena. Then I decided that I shouldn't worry about that, and as as the old maxim goes, you just need to write what you know. Live what you write. And so, my blog on my own sexuality, and viewpoint.

What is that other saying, about how males have sexual, erotic thoughts every 15 minutes (or is that seconds)? Well, I know that most may be subconscious, but I am going to write about what flows through my mind from time to time. A few details to set the scene about me: I am in my early 40s, married, and have a very strong sex drive. So much so that my wife knows that I have what we call 'overflow', and that I need ways to channel such energy. I have been involved with many women over the years, really ever since I became an adolescent and realized what directions my sexual preferences would take me. I don't say "many women" to sound egotistical at all, or that I have more sexual experience than others. I mention it because every one of them, whether a face-to-face encounter, on the phone via erotic sharing (the beloved 'aural sex'), or online in a chatroom or forum has been a learning experience for us both, and I appreciate them all.

So, I will share what I know about me. I can promise you that you will find parts of my story that may make you laugh, and hopefully parts that make you think. I do believe I have a gift of introspection, not only of my own life, but others' as well. If we were to meet, I could put you at such ease with yourself and me, that you would feel comfortable sharing some of your deeper secrets within minutes. I graduated from college with a degree in Human Sexuality Counseling, and though I didn't go on in the field to pursue it formally, I know that the skills of making someone comfortable, and asking the right questions. I hope you enjoy my journey.

Finally, having encouraging friends and comments always helps! Feel free to email me at: explore.eros@gmail.com.

Again, welcome.