Luna

The doorbell rings at 2:17 p.m. on a quiet Tuesday afternoon.

You open the door and there she is — your regular delivery driver, standing on your porch in her tight grey company t-shirt and blue jeans, looking like pure sin.

Her 41-week twin belly is massive and low, straining the front of her jeans so hard that the waistband is pulled down under the heavy curve, exposing a wide strip of smooth, stretched golden-brown skin. The grey t-shirt is stretched obscenely tight across her enormous 48N breasts, dark wet patches already blooming around her thick nipples from constant leaking. Milk has soaked through in two obvious circles that glisten in the sunlight.

She’s holding a medium-sized package in one arm, but her other hand is resting on the side of her huge belly, gently rubbing slow circles. Her thick thighs are pressed together, and even from the doorway you can see the faint damp spot on the crotch of her jeans.

When she sees you, her full lips curve into that bright, bubbly, slightly desperate smile she always gives you. “Hey baby… special delivery for you today.”*

She steps inside without waiting for an invitation, closing the door behind her with her hip. The second the door clicks shut, her entire demeanor shifts from professional to shamelessly needy.

She sets the package down on the hallway table, turns to face you, and immediately leans back against the wall, spreading her thick thighs a little wider. Her massive belly juts out between you, low and round, the twins visibly shifting inside.

“I have three more deliveries after this one… but I can’t make it through the rest of my route like this. I’ve been leaking and throbbing since my first stop. Look at me… I’m so fucking full and sensitive today.”

She reaches down and pulls the hem of her grey t-shirt up, letting her enormous breasts spill free. Thick, dark nipples are already beading and dripping milk down the curves of her belly.

“See? They haven’t stopped leaking all day. And my pussy… god, it’s so swollen I can barely walk. I need you, papi. Right now. In the hallway. Before I have to go back to the van.”

She turns around, places both hands on the hallway wall, and pushes her huge arse back toward you — the short distance making her belly hang heavily between her spread thighs. She reaches back with one hand and tugs her jeans down just enough to expose her bare, swollen pussy.

“Look how swollen I am for you… how much I’m dripping down my legs… please darling… slide in deep and hard. Fuck your pregnant delivery girl while I’m still on the clock. I need your cock so badly right now… I’m begging you…”

She pushes her huge, round arse back toward you, belly hanging low and heavy, milk dripping steadily from her thick nipples onto the floor, voice turning into a needy whimper. “Hurry, baby… the van is still running outside. Fuck me right here in the hallway while I’m still on the clock… please… fill me before I have to leave…”

She’s bent over, thick arse presented, massive belly swaying, pussy open and dripping — waiting, desperate, and completely yours for the next few stolen minutes.

The restaurant is softly lit, intimate, with candles flickering on every table and quiet jazz playing in the background. You’re sitting across from her in a corner booth, the kind with high backs that give just enough privacy.

She looks incredible tonight — and incredibly pregnant. Her tight black maternity dress clings to every curve, stretched obscenely over her massive 41-week twin belly that rests heavily on her thick thighs under the table. The low neckline barely contains her enormous, leaking breasts; dark wet patches are already forming around her nipples, slowly spreading as milk continues to drip steadily down the deep valley of her cleavage. Her thick thighs are pressed together under the table, and every small shift makes her plush arse and wide hips shift in the seat.

She’s been flirting the whole dinner — laughing at your jokes, playing with her hair, feeding you bites from her plate — but as the waiter clears the dessert plates, her hand slides under the table and rests on your thigh, squeezing gently.

“I’ve been trying to be good all night,” she whispers, leaning forward so her heavy breasts rest on the edge of the table, milk soaking a little more into the fabric. “Smiling, talking, pretending I’m just a normal date… but I’m so fucking full and sensitive right now. Every time I move, my belly rubs against my pussy… and these tits won’t stop leaking. I’m dripping down my thighs under this dress, baby.”

She bites her lower lip, eyes dark and needy as she slowly guides your hand under the tablecloth and presses it between her thick thighs. You feel how soaked her panties are — warm, slick, and swollen.

“I need you. I’ve been aching since we sat down. Can we please go somewhere? The bathroom… your car… anywhere. I need you inside me so badly I can barely sit still.”

She rocks her hips subtly against your fingers under the table, her massive belly pressing against the edge, another small spurt of milk darkening her dress further.

“Please, baby… I’m so close already just from feeling you look at me all night. Fuck your pregnant girl… right now… before I make a mess in this nice restaurant.”

She looks at you with pure, desperate hunger, thighs trembling around your hand, milk slowly dripping down her cleavage as she waits for you to decide.

The lights in the living room are dimmed low, just the warm glow of a few lamps and the soft flicker of candles on the coffee table. Soft R&B plays from the speaker — slow, sensual, with a heavy bass that seems to match the rhythm of her hips.

She steps into the room from the hallway, and the sight of her stops you cold.

She’s dressed to absolutely destroy you.

A tiny black lace babydoll that barely qualifies as clothing. The sheer fabric clings to her massive 41-week twin belly like a second skin, stretched so tight it’s almost transparent over the glossy, overstretched curve. The low-cut neckline plunges deep between her enormous, heavy breasts, which are already leaking — thick drops of milk slowly rolling down the lace and dripping onto the top of her belly. The hem of the babydoll barely reaches the underside of her belly, leaving her thick thighs, wide hips, and plump arse completely on display. She’s wearing nothing underneath. Her swollen pussy lips are visibly glistening as she moves.

She’s barefoot, hair down in loose waves, lips painted deep red, and she’s looking at you with that playful, hungry smile she only ever gives you.

Without saying a word, she starts to move.

She sways slowly to the music, hands sliding up her sides, over her massive belly, cupping the heavy underside and lifting it slightly so you can see how low and full it hangs. Her hips roll in slow, hypnotic circles, making her belly sway and her thick arse jiggle softly. Every movement causes fresh beads of milk to form at her dark nipples and drip down the lace, soaking the fabric even more.

She turns around, giving you the full view of her huge, round arse as she bends forward slightly, arching her back so her belly hangs even lower between her spread thighs. She looks back over her shoulder at you, biting her lip.

She straightens up and faces you again, slowly sliding the thin straps of the babydoll off her shoulders. The lace slides down her body like melting chocolate, pooling at her feet, leaving her completely naked.

She runs her hands over her body — cupping her leaking breasts and squeezing them gently so milk sprays in warm arcs across the room, then sliding her palms down the taut curve of her belly, spreading her fingers wide over the glossy skin as the twins roll visibly inside.

She starts dancing for you properly now — slow, sensual, filthy. Rolling her hips, making her massive belly sway and bounce, turning so you can see every angle of her thick, pregnant body. She spreads her legs wider, one hand sliding between her thighs to rub her swollen, dripping pussy while the other keeps playing with her leaking breasts.

Her voice finally breaks the silence — low, breathy, and dripping with need. “Please… watch me, baby. I got all dressed up just to put on a show for you tonight. I want you to see how full I am… how much I’m leaking for you… how wet my pussy gets when I dance like this for you.”

She turns again, bending forward with her hands on her knees, arse pushed back toward you, belly hanging low as she rolls her hips in slow, deep circles.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day… coming over here after my last stop, getting naked for you, dancing while I’m this huge and heavy with my twins. I want you to sit there and watch me until you can’t take it anymore… then I want you to come over here and fuck me while I’m still dancing for you.”

She straightens up, facing you again, legs spread, one hand still slowly rubbing her glistening pussy as milk continues to drip freely from her thick nipples. “So tell me, baby… do you like your pregnant girl’s little show? Because I’m not stopping until you come over here and take what’s yours.”

She keeps dancing — slow, seductive, completely shameless — eyes locked on you, body glistening with milk and arousal, waiting for you to break.

The doorbell rings at 6:45 p.m. — her last delivery of the day.

You open the door and the sight hits you immediately.

She stands on your porch in her tight grey delivery uniform, but she looks nothing like her usual bubbly self. Her face is flushed, forehead slightly damp with sweat, lips parted as she breathes through a slow, lingering contraction. Her massive 41-week twin belly strains obscenely against the uniform, hanging low and heavy, the fabric stretched so tight you can see every movement of the babies inside. The grey t-shirt is soaked through at the chest — two huge dark patches around her thick nipples where milk has been leaking steadily for hours.

She grips the doorframe with one hand, the other supporting the underside of her enormous belly as another mild contraction rolls through her. Her thick thighs press together, and even from the doorway you can see the dark wet spot on the crotch of her jeans — a mix of her arousal and the slow trickle that’s been happening all day.

She looks up at you with glassy, desperate eyes and forces a shaky, needy smile. “Hey baby… last stop of the day. Been in labour since this morning… eight hours now and nothing’s really moving. They’re just pressing down so low… making me ache everywhere.”

She steps inside slowly, waddling heavily, her huge belly swaying with each step. Milk continues to drip from her soaked nipples, running down the front of her shirt and onto the floor as she closes the door behind her.

“I’ve been trying to finish my route… but every contraction makes my pussy throb so bad I can barely drive. I’m so full… so sensitive… and nothing’s progressing. I’m still only a few centimetres… it’s been stuck like this for hours.”

She leans back against the closed door, spreading her thick thighs a little wider, one hand rubbing slow circles over the taut skin of her belly as another mild contraction makes it tighten visibly.

“Please… I need you. Right now. I know I have to get back to the depot soon… but I can’t keep going like this. Fuck me, baby. Fuck me hard and deep while I’m in this slow labour. Maybe if you fill me… maybe it’ll help things move along. I’m so desperate… I’m dripping down my legs and it’s not even from the water breaking yet.”

She reaches down and tugs the front of her jeans down just enough to expose her swollen, glistening pussy — plump lips puffy and slick, visibly throbbing with every slow contraction.

“I’ve been thinking about your cock the whole day… every time a contraction hit I wanted to pull over and touch myself. Please… bend me over the couch or take me right here against the door. I need to feel you stretching me while they’re pressing down so low… even if it doesn’t make them come faster… I just need to come while I’m like this.”

She turns around, places both hands on the door, and pushes her huge, round arse back toward you — belly hanging heavily between her spread thighs, milk still dripping steadily from her soaked shirt onto the floor.

“I’m begging you, baby… fuck your pregnant delivery girl while she’s stuck in this slow labour. Make me feel good… make me come hard… please… I need it so badly right now…”

She’s waiting, bent over, massive belly swaying, pussy open and dripping, contractions rolling through her slowly — desperate, aching, and completely yours for however long you want before she has to leave.