The Horny Sea Horse IX – Jarred, The Twinner Escort
Jarred again. To answer the most obvious (and very fair) question, yes, I do know this has gotten ridiculous. Needing to be pregnant for the 6th time may qualify me as legitimately addicted at this point. I managed to wait an entire 3 months after Annie’s last gestation to get pregnant again myself. Nevertheless, my brief experience in escorting during my last pregnancy has rarely left my mind, and I felt it necessary to do something about it (with Annie’s enthusiastic consent, of course).
I feel a deep urge to explore escorting further, in what I truly plan to be my last pregnancy. Having conceptualized it as my last from before even meeting with Dr. Lucas, I decided to really go out in style. Once again, I’ve gone for the biggest parents of the baby I’ll be carrying that I could find: they’re delightfully huge people. More importantly, though…I’ve been implanted with TWINS.
The positive test result and confirming doctor’s appointment happened about eight weeks ago, now. Already, twin pregnancy is proving to be significantly different from carrying a singleton, and not exclusively in positive ways. I can’t really complain to Annie, though, as her concise response to anything bothering me is pointing at her abdomen and saying “Triplets.” So, I guess I’ll be getting the complaining out of my system with you, my beloved readers.
I have to see the doctor twice a month, and I hear many things about complications and potential dangers to both me and the babies. Scary stuff, but luckily I’m not a particularly nervous person when it comes to such things. The assortment of prenatal vitamins and supplements Dr. Lucas has me taking are great in both number and size. I choke on the biggest of them frequently.
Far worse than these minor inconveniences are the fatigue and nausea/vomiting. Out of morbid curiosity, I counted my hours of sleep over the past week, and I’m averaging about 15 hours/day at the moment. Depressing, but I’m just so fucking tired all the time. I also counted my orgasms, which averaged a disappointing 2/day (and you know how bad that is for pregnant me!).
And the fucking nausea. God, it’s unbelievable. My nine waking hours each day feel just about filled with it. I puke morning, noon, and night, but even when not actively barfing or kneeling at the toilet waiting to barf, I pretty much always feel an incapacitating level of nausea. So very much laying down, and so little relief. Hopefully my difficult symptoms will subside soon, as I really want to start the escorting soon and it just doesn’t feel possible while I’m feeling this poorly.
On an awesome note, I’m hardly 2 months in and I’m already showing! Twin belly growth is crazy fast. I’ve been in maternity clothes for three weeks already, and I currently look like I’ve looked at 4-5 months with my singleton pregnancies. Nowhere near gravid yet, but the bump’s definitely there, and I’m sure heads would be turning my way if I were to go out in public. By the point I feel well enough to start advertising my availability as an escort, I imagine I’ll have an impressive enough bump not to be at all disappointing to clients looking for a pregnant hook-up.
Based on my internet research, the demand for pregnant escorts is pretty high while the supply is not particularly great. Male preggo escorts seem to be in short supply when compared to females, who themselves are pretty damn scarce. I’ve only found one pregnant man escorting in my area currently, in fact, and he was nice enough to respond to the question-filled email I couldn’t resist sending him. He has more business than he can keep up with, and was actually thrilled that there might be another man offering similar services in the area.
Apparently, there are more than enough eager clients out there to keep us both as busy as we care to be. My carrying twins, he pointed out, is going to be a huge asset. It makes perfect sense: pregnant escorts are rare, pregnant male escorts rarer still, and twin-carrying pregnant male escorts more or less unheard of. My beloved fellow perverts that will be receiving my services are, by and large, pretty obsessed with belly size. They’re going to fucking love my twinner ass…
23 Weeks: The Bachelorette Party
A little over halfway into this pregnancy and I look like I’m well into a singleton third trimester already. Sickness thankfully having subsided, I’m digging the hell out of my rapid growth. Annie is too, and we’re fucking like crazy, about as much as I can muster considering the demands of my new job.
I’ve had a great deal of clients (and WAY more requests than I could possibly accommodate) over the past seven weeks of advertising my services. The volume is crazy: there’s no way I can write about every single experience. So, just a handful of the more interesting ones are going to be recorded here.
Tonight’s clients of note are the attendees of a bachelorette party. I decide on a sleeveless black bodycon maxi dress, really showcasing kırıkkale escort my tits and bump. Despite my strong instinct to go commando, I opt for bra and panties just in case I have to do some stripping. Honestly, I don’t know what to expect. In our correspondence the client refers to me as “the entertainment,” which could mean any number of things. Am I fucking everyone there? Just the bride-to-be? Is dancing expected of me? Going in, I’m excited and nervous at the number of possibilities my mind’s cooked up.
There are seven ladies present, sitting on couches and chairs in a rough horseshoe shape in the living room. The blonde bride-to-be wears a sparkly silver plastic crown. They’re all holding drinks, but it doesn’t seem like any of them has had enough alcohol to loosen up just yet. Based on how awkwardly I’m welcomed in and how quiet it is once I’m standing in front of them all, I’m guessing they don’t really know what to expect tonight either.
“First escort?” I ask the room, and they laugh nervously, all nodding. Ice at least partially broken, I ask if they’d like to see my belly. More nods, some more enthusiastic than others. I pull my dress up over my panties and bump, right up to the bottom of my bra. It seems like a half-measure, so I pull the dress off the rest of the way and let it drop to the floor. Their eyes all go wide: a hairy, heavily pregnant and bosomy man still seems to be quite the sight for most folks. I love the attention, and can feel the blood going straight to my cock: just another fun thing for them to stare at, I figure.
I gently slap my hands onto my belly, asking if anyone would like a touch. They exchange nervous glances, then most of them are nodding and smiling. I move my way around the horseshoe, getting my bump rubbed and fielding pregnancy-related questions. They’re particularly amazed that, given the twin situation, I’m this big and hardly halfway through (join the club, ladies!). I elicit at least two gasps once I reveal that this pregnancy is my sixth, and my wife has had four of her own to boot. The numbers are indeed impressive, I must agree.
The rubbings I receive are gentle and respectful, no hands even lingering near my crotch or breasts, never mind anyone sneaking in a naughty caress to my fun parts. The last of the young women to touch my bump asks the best question I could ask for: “Are you lactating?” It was too early to be lactating from this particular gestation, but Annie and I have done lactation play frequently enough that neither of us have stopped producing milk in years.
My opportunity is obvious and extremely welcome, so I unhook my bra and let it drop to the floor, milky tits plopping down onto the top of my bump. Eyes go even wider. I take a few steps away from my audience (there’s potential for a splash zone, after all) and gently squeeze my left breast with both hands until drops of translucent milk drip down my knuckles and drop right onto my bump. I quickly move my hands to rub the milk into my midsection, not wanting it to drip onto the hardwood floor.
Now topless and sticky-bellied, the ice has been pretty thoroughly broken for the whole room. I take a shot at pushing things further: “Has anyone ever seen a pregnant dick?” Laughter and negative responses follow. I wiggle out of my panties, stepping out of them when they hit the floor. My erection pops right up: the attention has gotten me very hot and bothered. Currently, my bump and my cock protrude almost exactly the same amount. Unsurprisingly, The next of them to rub my belly brushes the tip of my penis accidentally, apologizing immediately and profusely.
“You know I’m a hooker, right?” I ask to more laughter. Emboldened, the recently embarrassed young woman takes my dick in one hand as she continues rubbing my bump with the other. I make another circuit around the horseshoe, all but one of them touching my genitals along with my stomach. A few just grab my erection for a moment, a few caress it gently, and one brunette gives me a few solid pumps, stroking expertly. Something might just happen with that one…
I’m back in the center of the horseshoe, basically doing a bit of nude modeling for them. I rotate myself to give everyone a view of everything in turn, caress my bump and tits alluringly, and occasionally give my cock a pump or two. Drinks flow continuously, noticeably loosening everyone up. They seem to really enjoy the show, hooting occasionally and pointing at the more extreme parts of my physique in awe. A few minutes pass, and the young woman who’d given me those nice strokes stands up, grabs the bride-to-be’s arm in one hand and mine in the other. The three of us are abruptly in the bedroom.
The brunette instructs me to lay down on my back. “I love preggos, but haven’t managed to land one before now,” she tells me as I lug my gut onto the bed. “She’s into it, too,” she gestures toward the bride-to-be, who promptly blushes and averts her eyes. “Yeah,” she says quietly to the floor. The kırıkkale escort bayan brunette takes charge again: “Her fiancé has absolutely no interest in male pregnancy, so we kind of thought this might be her last good opportunity. But she’s shy, so I might have to get things started…”
She rips off her tank top, revealing braless breasts with hard pink nipples. The jean shorts are off next: she’s evidently gone commando this evening. Fully nude, she sits on the bed next to me, touching herself as she slowly strokes me. “Not so scary,” she says to the bride-to-be as she slips a condom on me.
She’s mounting me now, balancing herself with both hands on my belly. Slowly and steadily, she lowers herself onto my cock and envelops me in soft tightness. I’m going to have to think of some seriously unsexy shit so as not to bust a nut in seconds. Up and down my cock a mere dozen or so times, she’s got me right on the edge of cumming. She must feel my muscles tightening, because she knows just when to dismount.
The condom is quickly removed and she finishes me quickly with her right hand. She lifts her hands to show me the cum coating them: “Would you like this on your bump? I’ve always kinda fantasized about that…” Once again, someone has accidentally hit on my favorite thing in the world without my having to even mention it. I nod enthusiastically, and she’s rubbing my load off her hands and onto me, massaging it into every inch of my belly.
Happy with the resultant shiny bump, the brunette gets off the bed but keeps her clothes off for the moment. “Come on, strip,” she gently but firmly implores her friend. The bride-to-be shakes her head vigorously, obviously not up for the full experience. Not wanting to push too hard or make her friend uncomfortable, the brunette backs off and pulls her clothes back on. “Clothes or not, you’re up,” she says with a smile. She might not disrobe, but the bride-to-be does work up the courage to come over and sit next to me.
“Just to let you know, I need at least 10 minutes before…” I nod towards my groin. “Oh, no, no. I really just wanted to…touch…you?” It turns into a question, and I tell her it’s totally fine. She settles in next to me, both hands rubbing my shiny bump, gently pushing into my flesh where she feels the firmness of the babies inside me. Maybe this isn’t her day for this sexually, but she’s clearly enjoying the belly in a way that keeps her comfortable.
A little more forwardness is displayed when she makes her way to my tits. She squeezes both at once, producing drops of milk she promptly rubs into my bump. They’re making a very sexy mess on me, and for some reason I’m going to get paid for it!
The bride-to-be really takes her time massaging my bump, because my dick soon lets me know that at least 10 minutes have passed. Refractory period apparently over, my dick’s hard as a rock via her playing with my tits and belly. She clearly notices, as her belly-touching hand rubs closer and closer to my erection, eventually starting to brush it with every circular motion her hand makes on the bump. Finally, she’s got the hand moving up and down my shaft, the milk-sticky tit-grabbing hand moving down to rub my mess of a gut.
Again, she’s hit one of my favorite things in life: a hand on my bump and a hand on my cock. Her caresses of my belly remain tender even as the handjob intensifies. I just start to feel an orgasm coming on, and her hands are off me as she leans over to blow me. The blowjob lasts about 30 seconds before I feel myself starting to cum. I try tapping her on the head to let her know my orgasm is imminent, but she waves me off and I shoot right into her throat.
She’s clearly collected the entire load in her mouth; she moves up the bed to my head, leans over and kisses me. A bit of the cum leaks out her cheeks and drips down my face, but she gets most of it right into my mouth. I swallow, exaggerating the action to make sure it’s audible. She has a huge smile on her face, some fantasy(s) clearly having come to life. I really, really like this job.
25 Weeks: Dinner and a Few Shows
At just under 6 months in, I’m currently measuring comparably to 41 weeks with a singleton. It’s as big as I’ve ever been, according to the measurements of our bodies Annie and I have diligently kept through all 10 of our pregnancies. I briefly wonder if I made a mistake choosing the surrogacy’s huge biological parents in addition to choosing to carry twins. Then I think about Annie’s big-as-singletons triplets, and I’m humbled to consider the immensity she achieved and endured.
Still, it’s hard for me to fathom another 12-15 weeks of such rapid growth. Even if I wasn’t constantly touching myself and noticing every minute detail of my changing body, I have a weekly client who keeps me informed of how incredibly different my physique is every seven days. He absolutely loves it.
I have a date tonight. Not the usual euphemistic escort “date” that just means fucking, escort kırıkkale but a straight-up dinner-and-a-show date. I put on a loose blue button-down maternity shirt that can just barely contain my bump at this point, and a loose grey jacket that I’m not even going to attempt to button. Underneath it all is the lacy black maternity lingerie Annie bought for me a few months ago at the preggo convention. With the severe feet swelling that usually comes with twins, I had to go online to overnight a new pair of gigantic shoes from a specialty site.
Impressing myself, I manage to get all my clothes on and fully cover my bump without any assistance from Annie. I look pretty good, I think. The client told me the restaurant she’d be taking me to, and I went there a few evenings prior to look in and see what people generally wore. My attire matches what I’d seen, so I think it’ll be okay. She’s also taking me to a regional theater company’s performance of A Streetcar Named Desire, which I think means slightly more casual attire: I’ll probably lose the jacket in between dinner and the show.
We meet at a bar near the restaurant. Her name is Mary. She has long, straight black hair and a slim (but curvy in a few places…) figure. She wears an empire-waisted black midi dress with a black cardigan and black pumps. We start with a drink (Shirley Temple for me!). Mary asks me to tell her “absolutely everything” about my pregnancy. I go into symptoms, bodily changes, and how this pregnancy compares to my others.
She seems to be fascinated by each and every detail I can think of to share. We head to the restaurant, an upscale Italian place. She asks me to tell her something a” little more personal,” and I describe a few of my many pregnant escapades, and tell her about the physical difficulties and encumbrances of preggo sex. This is clearly even more interesting to her, her eyes wide and darting between my bump and my eyes.
Our theater seats are in the back row, and I’m sitting in the seat all the way on the left wall of the room. The back corner, in other words: a place where a bit of touching might occur with few if any potential onlookers. Or so I assume when I see where we’ve been seated. The lights are only out for two minutes before my presumption proves accurate. She undoes two of my shirt buttons, right over my bump.
Her hand slips in, and she rubs and plays with my belly for a good 20 minutes. We remain undetected. Her hand comes out of my shirt and slowly makes its way down to the zipper of my pants. Having gained easy access to my cock, she goes right into my boxers and takes my ready and waiting erection into her grip. It’s the slowest and longest handjob I’ve ever received, and it’s truly phenomenal. This takes us right to intermission. I could not give you a single detail about the play that’s been going on in front of us.
The house lights go up for intermission and Mary leads me by the hand back to her car, apparently uninterested in the second half of the show. We’re at her place, and she has me stand nude in her living room as she stares at me from every conceivable angle and touches me on just about every square inch of my body. She studies my body with an intensity I haven’t experienced before.
It takes 40 minutes, minimum. Finally, she gets to her knees and blows me quickly. She swallows, then has me get dressed and pays me. The whole date was…idiosyncratic, I guess I’d say. I can’t tell exactly what she wanted to get out of the experience, but I really hope she got at least some of it. Mary’s a very nice lady, and it was genuinely nice to spend time with her.
28 Weeks: The Bachelor Party
My bump protrudes a good four inches further than my erect cock. I’ve already gained 34 pounds; my previous high for pregnancy weight gain (with a singleton, of course) was 26 pounds. And I’ve still got 12 weight gain-intensive weeks to go! Not all the weight is going to my belly. My body is seriously filling out, with tits, hips, and ass curvier and plumper than they’ve ever been. Less excitingly, a few pounds have definitely gone to my cankles and swollen feet. And thighs. And upper arms.
I’m as gravid and chubby as I’ve ever been, and I’m honestly enjoying the hell out of it. Our full-length mirror has become a close personal confidante, watching me enjoy my naked self for at least an hour each day. Annie’s hands are all over me, loving my tiny new rolls and substantial stores of fat. She loves the enormity of the bump, especially since it’s not weighing her down this time. Already she’s having to do most of the work sexually, with the majority of my efforts going toward moving the bump out of the way to allow her access to my cock. God bless her, she’s helping me multiple times a day. It’s almost as if she enjoys fucking pregnant men…
I took a job at a bachelorette party a few weeks ago, so the bachelor party I was invited to was a no-brainer. It was being thrown for a gay couple, both of whom would be at the party along with eight other male guests. At the very least, I was intrigued to compare the behavior of these men to the behavior the women had displayed at their party. I’ve got a sort of sociological interest in this, I suppose. It’s not much more than a guess, but I think these guys might be a bit more forward than the gals had been.