Pregnant Mail Lady Fucks the Neighbor Husband

Beatrice shifted the heavy mailbag higher on her shoulder and waddled up the short walkway to the house next door, the late-morning sun already warm against the swell of her belly. At twenty-eight she had been carrying the twins for months now, and every step made the weight of them press low and hot between her hips. Her uniform shirt strained across breasts that had grown heavy and tender, the fabric damp where a little milk had already seeped through the cotton of her bra. She was married to Mateo, who worked long shifts at the plant, and the pregnancy had turned her into something she barely recognized—an aching, restless horndog who woke wet and stayed that way. The neighboring house belonged to Cody and Valentina. Valentina had left three days ago for a week-long business trip, and Beatrice had noticed the empty driveway every morning. She had always thought Cody was handsome in a quiet way, broad through the shoulders, with a mouth that looked like it knew how to linger. He was thirty-two, steady, the kind of neighbor who waved from the driveway and never let his eyes drop too low. Until today she had kept her own glances polite. Today the ache between her legs would not let her.

The door opened before she could knock a second time. Cody stood there in a faded T-shirt and jeans, barefoot, hair still damp from a shower. His eyes went straight to her belly, then up to her face, and something in his expression softened and sharpened at the same time.

“Mail,” she said, and her voice came out lower than she meant. She held out the small stack of envelopes, but she did not step back. The scent of his soap reached her, clean and warm, and her nipples tightened so hard she felt the wet spots grow. “Valentina’s still gone?”

“Till Sunday.” He took the mail, fingers brushing hers. The contact was nothing, a second, and her whole body answered it. Heat flooded her cheeks and lower, a slick pulse she could not ignore. She watched his throat move as he swallowed. “You look… tired. You okay carrying all that?”

“I’m not tired.” She let the bag slide down her arm and set it on the porch boards between them. Her free hand settled on the curve of her belly, rubbing slow circles the way she did when the babies shifted and the pressure made her clit throb. “I’m horny. All the time. Twins make it worse. I walk around soaked and nobody’s home to do anything about it.”

Cody’s gaze dropped to her hand on her belly, then to the way her shirt pulled tight across her chest. He did not look away. “Beatrice.”

“I know.” She stepped closer, close enough that the hard swell of her stomach nearly touched his shirt. “I’ve thought about you. You think about me too. I can see it.”

He exhaled, a rough sound. “Valentina’s my wife. You’re married to Mateo.”

“And they’re not here.” Her palm slid higher, cupping the underside of one heavy breast through the uniform. The nipple was already stiff, leaking a little more. “I’m not asking you to leave anybody. I’m asking you to fuck me because I can’t stand it another hour. Say no and I’ll go. But don’t pretend you don’t want it.”

His eyes stayed on her mouth. “Come inside.”

The living room was dim and cool, blinds half-drawn. Beatrice set the mailbag by the door and turned. Cody stood a few feet away, mail still in his hand, forgotten. She rubbed her belly again, slower, letting him watch the way her hips shifted to ease the ache. “My tits hurt. They’re so full. And my pussy—” She laughed once, breathless. “I rubbed one out in the truck two stops ago and it didn’t touch it. I need a cock. I need yours.”

He crossed the space. One hand hovered, then settled on the side of her belly, warm and careful. The babies kicked under his palm and she moaned, the sound raw. “Jesus, Beatrice. You’re beautiful like this.”

“Touch me properly.” She caught his wrist and dragged his hand up, pressing it hard against her breast. Milk dampened his fingers through the shirt. Her nipple poked into his palm and she arched into it, shameless. “Like that. God, yes. Squeeze. I’ve wanted your hands on me since the block party last summer. I was already showing a little and you looked at my ass when I bent over the cooler. I went home and fucked Mateo thinking about your mouth.”

Cody’s thumb stroked across the wet peak. His other hand found her hip, then slid around to the small of her back, pulling her as close as the belly allowed. “I looked. I jerked off in the shower after and felt like shit about it. You’re so fucking pregnant and I still—”

“Still want to bend me over.” She rose on her toes and kissed him, open-mouthed, tasting coffee and want. His tongue met hers and the last of the polite distance burned away. She ground her belly against him, feeling the hard line of his cock through his jeans. “Take the shirt off me. I need skin.”

He worked the buttons with unsteady fingers. The uniform shirt fell open and he pushed it off her shoulders, then tugged the soaked bra down. Her breasts spilled free, heavy, blue-veined, nipples dark and dripping. Cody groaned and bent, sucking one into his mouth. The pull of his lips sent a shock straight to her clit. Milk flooded his tongue and she cradled his head, rocking, already close from nothing but that.

“Couch,” she gasped. “I can’t stand up much longer. My knees—”

He walked her backward until the backs of her legs hit the cushions. Beatrice turned, braced her hands on the back of the couch, and shoved her uniform pants and panties down to mid-thigh. The air hit her soaked pussy and she spread her feet as wide as the bunched fabric allowed. “Look at me. I’m dripping down my thighs. Put your cock in me or I’ll scream.”

Cody freed himself, thick and flushed, and stepped in behind her. One hand gripped the underside of her belly, lifting just enough to ease the angle; the other guided his cock through her slick folds. He pushed in slow, stretching her, and Beatrice’s head dropped between her shoulders with a broken cry. The fullness was perfect, deep, the head of him nudging the spot that had been throbbing for days. He drew back and thrust again, harder, the wet sound loud in the quiet room.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered against her shoulder. “So wet. You really needed this.”

“Harder.” She pushed back, taking him to the root, her huge belly swaying with every stroke. “Grip it. Hold my belly and fuck me like you mean it. I want to feel you in my throat.”

He did. Both hands cradled the heavy curve, supporting her while his hips snapped forward. Beatrice came on the fourth deep thrust, a sharp, clenching orgasm that made her pussy flutter and milk him. She sobbed his name, legs shaking, and he didn’t stop. He fucked her through it, the couch creaking, her breasts swinging and dripping onto the cushions. When the aftershocks eased she reached back, nails digging into his thigh.

“I want to ride you. Sit. Let me.”

Cody pulled out, cock gleaming, and dropped onto the couch. Beatrice kicked her pants the rest of the way off and climbed into his lap, facing him, belly between them. She reached down, lined him up, and sank onto his cock in one long glide. The stretch made her eyes roll. She braced her hands on his shoulders and started to move, rolling her hips, grinding her clit against the base of him every time she bottomed out. Her tits bounced, heavy and leaking, droplets striking his chest. Cody leaned in and licked them clean, sucking each nipple in turn while she rode him harder, chasing the next peak.

“You feel so good,” she panted. “So deep. I’m gonna come again. Don’t you dare stop.”

“Not stopping.” His hands slid under her ass, helping her lift and drop. “Use me. Take what you need. Christ, Beatrice, look at you—pregnant and greedy and perfect.”

She came a second time with a sharp cry, pussy clamping down so hard he cursed and thrust up to meet her. The orgasm rolled through her belly and down her thighs, milk spurting from both nipples onto his tongue. She kept moving, slower now, savoring the thick slide of him, until her thighs trembled too much to continue.

“Side,” she whispered. “I want you behind me. Deep. I want to feel you come inside me.”

They shifted carefully. Beatrice lay on her side on the wide couch cushions, one leg drawn up, belly supported by a throw pillow Cody shoved under it. He stretched out behind her, chest to her back, and slid back into her soaked pussy from behind. The angle let him sink even deeper. He hooked an arm under her knee, opening her, and started a slow, grinding rhythm that pressed his cock against every sensitive inch. His free hand roamed her belly, stroking the tight skin, then up to pinch and roll a leaking nipple. Beatrice reached back, fingers tangled in his hair, and turned her head so she could kiss him, messy and open.

“Right there,” she moaned against his mouth. “Don’t change anything. Fuck me just like that until you fill me up. I want to walk the rest of my route with your cum dripping out of me.”

Cody’s thrusts grew shorter, harder, the head of his cock nudging her cervix with every stroke. Beatrice’s third orgasm built slower, a deep rolling wave that started in her clit and spread until her whole pregnant body shook. She clenched around him, crying out into the kiss, and the rhythmic squeeze pulled him over with her. He buried himself to the hilt and came in long pulses, groaning her name, flooding her pussy with heat. She felt every spurt, milking him through it, aftershocks sparking behind her eyes until they both went still, breathing hard, still joined.

Cody’s hand stayed on her belly, palm warm and gentle, tracing idle circles while his cock softened inside her. He pressed slow kisses along the side of her neck, tasting salt and the faint sweetness of her milk. Beatrice sighed, content and heavy-limbed, and turned her face to meet his mouth. The kiss was unhurried, lips sliding, tongues touching once, soft.

“That,” she murmured, “was exactly what I needed. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he said against her mouth, and meant it. “You okay to walk?”

“Better than okay.” She smiled, lazy and bright, and carefully eased off him. His cum slipped down her thigh. She found her panties and pants, pulled them up without wiping anything away, and buttoned her damp uniform shirt over her still-leaking breasts. The mailbag waited by the door. She shouldered it, the weight familiar, and looked back at him sprawled on the couch, spent and watching her.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, and the promise in it made his cock twitch. Then she opened the door, stepped into the sunlight, and waddled down the walk with a glowing, well-fucked smile, already thinking about the next house and the sweet ache still pulsing between her legs.