Subject: 
        "Daddy's Love" ~~ Part 1
  Date: 
        Thu, 27 Mar 1997 21:24:36 -0500 (EST)
  From: 
        Jackie <an338903@cris.com>
    To: 
        Will Bow <wbow@crl.com>


New: "Daddy's Love" (inc, pedo, fg, Mfg, teen, preg/birth, mast,
milk, ws, cons)

This fictional story contains graphic descriptions of  young incest
and pregnancy; breast-feeding; female/Male sex; female/female
sex; masturbation; and other graphic sexual descriptions. If you
are:

     a) Are under 18 years old
     b) Are offended by any graphic sexual actions
     c) Feel these are against your Community Standards
     d) Feel that a pregnant woman should stay home in a
         rocking chair, looking motherly

Please STOP reading and IMMEDIATELY LEAVE and CLOSE
this file !!!!!

================================================


        "Finally Getting Daddy's Love"

               (Copyright 1996)

         by Jackie (an338903@cris.com)


Introduction

Hi. My name is Lola. Before you even ask the question, let me
answer it. My wonderful parents were great fans of Barry Manilow
~~ I know "who ?" Anyway, they almost constantly played his
song "Copacabana." 

I seem to remember humming, kicking, and tapping along with that
song *while* still floating around in my Mommy's hugely bulging
womb. (I've read that babies can hear sounds from the 4th month
of pregnancy onward.) Therefore, it was only natural that when I
was born, they named me "Lola" ~~ I guess you *really* have to
know that song.

I was 14 years old on February 16th 1996. I live with my darling
33 year old Daddy, his sexy 20 year wife, three pretty baby girls,
and two handsome baby boys. Incidentially, those two baby boys
are *mine*, but more on that later.

My original Mommy died suddenly when I was eight years old
from breast cancer. She was only 24 years old. I've been told that
at least it was not painful. Mommy used to call me her "china doll"
because I was short and very slender, had china blue eyes, long
blond hair, and creamy smooth white skin. I used to remember lots
more about her, but most memories are growing dimmer and
dimmer as the years pass, although a few remain crystal clear. 

Now, all I think about is my handsome Daddy and his love for me,
*my* two darling baby boys, and *my* first daughter who will be
born in about a month. (Psssst, my loving very-sexy Daddy is the
father of *all* three !!)

Many books state that a woman's sexual desire will dim during
pregnancy, especially during the second and third trimesters.
Maybe it's all those potent pubertal hormones constantly flowing
through this youthful preggie body, but my intense sexual desire
has never even sagged, growing stronger and stronger through my
two and three-quarters pregnancies.

As I begin to write this, my young petite 14-year-old body is
completely naked, standing in front of a full-length mirror. My
watermelon-size super-engorged breasts jutting way out in front,
still very firm and proud ~~ "youth" generously helping my triple
"motherhood." 

Their creamy shiny flesh is stretched tighter than the skin on a
drum. Both bloated milky udders now droop a little from suckling
two greedy babies (and of course, my "greedy" Daddy). They now
calmly rest on that wide plateau created by my hugely bulging pink
pregnant belly. Those blue veins, now so prominant from all that
internal pressure, make high visible ridges on that taut creamy
skin.

Their long thick rubbery nipples are wet and glistening, peeking
out between my breast-length gleaming blond hair, still dripping
warm sweet mommy's milk from just tandem-feeding "the boys."
A couple milky-white drops hang perilously from those hard
excited rubbery nubs, just waiting to be caught.

("If *you* were here: I'd let you bend down and flick both fat hard
rubbery nipples with your rough snake-like tongue, then slowly
wrap it completely around like a mighty python hugging its prey,
making me "gasp" with surprise as a myriad of droplets of warm
sweet mommy's milk squirt straight out, covering your cheeks and
mouth; then, I'd let you greedily suckle on those wet shiny nubs,
while you gently caressed my bloated pink beachball belly (and
maybe even lower <blush>), feeling my bloated young body grow
more and more excited.") 

("Finally, I'd let you squeeze those super-engorged titties over and
over, harder and harder, feeling squirt after squirt of warm sweet
mommy's milk filling, then overflowing your panting slurping
mouth, streaming and gurgling down your throat as I hotly "purr"
so very contently.") 

("Would *you* do all those naughty, forbidden deeds to my young
bloated body ??") 

If my tiny hands were to only gently squeeze those bloated
balloons, a dozen or more sprays of that warm sweet mommy's
milk would float across the room, like a wet white curtain. You
see, "those boys" never fully empty my engorged milk-jugs, but
my Daddy never, never complains about that !!

("After *you* finished so greedily suckling, would *you* hoist
those milk-filled whoppers up, helping me to strap them into my
black H-cup nursing bra ?? It was custom built like a parachute
harness ~~ each cup probably having more cotton and nylon than a
parachute has shimmering  silk.' ??")

I am carrying this third baby so very low ~~ almost between my
bowed-out knees. If it gets any lower, I'll be forced to stick a roller
skate underneath it just to waddle. I guess after my first two
immensely bloated bellies, I no longer have *any* muscles
between my neck and my knees to hold this gigantic whopper up. 

My round distended belly looks like a *huge* grossly-over-inflated
pink beachball with two short stubby legs at the bottom. If I have
to waddle quickly, like when *constantly* going to the bathroom,
both my little hands have to hold that bloated beachball ever so
tightly to keep it from bouncing up and down, that weighty
oscillating motion potentially toppling me right over ~~
"timmmmmber." (No wheel barrows allowed in this house.
<giggle>)

Once, this "whale" did lose her balance, not making it onto the
toilet, my current "throne," in time. My bloated body ended up
lying on my back in the middle of the bathroom floor, denim
maternity jumper-dress bunched around my waist, floundering
around with my naked legs widely spread. 

Soon, my pressurized "pisser" was spouting a warm pungent
golden fountain over two feet in the air, propelled right through my
tight white cotton girly panties. That sparkling arc looked so
beautiful in the sunlight peeking in from an open window. 

Anybody nearby would have sworn that it looked just like that
geyser, Old Faithful. My ears could clearly hear the loud "splats"
as those warm golden drops landed one after another on the cold
tile floor, making little glistening puddles that would slowly run
together into larger golden ones.

My poor bloated body *really* looked like a huge beached hump-
back whale blowing golden spicy liquid high in the air through its
huffing-puffing blow-hole. I was *totally* embarassed, yet those
warm soggy white cotton panties made my pouting pussy throb,
my long fat clitty, now bloated with desire, tingle for a long time
afterwards, but I didn't tell *anybody* that.

("If *you* had been there: I would have let your gentle fingers feel
my hot soggy white cotton panties; maybe even gently rub some of
that warm golden wetness deeper into my pink girly cunny through
those soggy girly panties, making my young hips wiggle;") 

("Afterwards, maybe I'd let you slip a finger, or two, under that
warm soggy cotton crotch, sliding that firm digit deeply up and
down between my hot wet cunny lips. Each stroke would make my
bloated pregnant body wriggle with delight as you gently stuffed
that stiff wiggling worm inside my tight pregnant love-tunnel, just
a little. Finally, I'd let *you* slide that naughty finger between
your lips, savoring the salty spicy mixture of my warm pee and my
hot preggo-love juices.") 

("Would *you* do all those naughty, forbidden deeds to young
sweet little me ??")

My Ob ("obstetrician") assured me there is only a single baby girl
blossoming deep inside me, but my bloated belly is huge enough
for twins, or even triplets, to "set up house in," over 58" around.
Being "vertically challanged," ok, "short," at only 5' 0", that
immensely bloated sphere makes me look like I am almost as wide
at the waist as I am tall. 

Even with my sweet Daddy constantly applying liberal amounts of
cocoa butter cream all over my wobbling blimp, those hundreds of
gross purplish stretch marks, from my belly-button stalk on down,
*now* even have their own deep stretch marks. (The underside of
my bloated belly now has the tread design of a brand new Good
Year "Tiger Paw" tire and could easily climb any mountain,
although, it is a mountain itself.) 

I'm sooo glad that some men find all those deep stretch marks, my
"purple badge of motherhood," extremely exciting ~~ I'd even let
the *right* guy count them one by one, with his warm wet tongue.

("If *you* were here: I'd let your warm gentle hands roam all over
my taut pink beachball belly, hefting its weight and firmness,
pressing and feeling that solid liquid sack with my sweet little baby
girl floating deep inside; I'd let your shaking fingers slowly toy
with each of my million stretch marks, maybe teasing that over-
stretched pink flesh with a feather, making it shake and shiver with
increasing sexual desire.") 

("Next, I'd let those soft finger tips play with my pop'd belly-button stalk, 
wiggling it left and right like a fully-erect bloated
third nipple; finally, maybe even letting *you* suck on that
bobbing stalk, making my pink hairless cunny slit continuously
drip, while your firm hands softly caressed that huge expanse of
my bloated pregnant beachball belly.") 

("Would *you* touch me in those naughty, forbidden ways ??")

If you think that I might look funny now, you should have seen me
with my *first* baby. When I carried my first baby boy, I was only
11 years old and almost a *foot* shorter. Then, I looked like a 4' 2"
waddling penguin that had swallowed this *really* huge whopper
of a fish . . . but first, let me tell you how our family's very close,
intimate relationship began. You'll quickly see that I have mentally
and physically matured decades over only the last six years.

                  * * * * *

Chapter 1#   Lola's Early Years

Before my first Mommy died, Daddy and I were about as close as
any father and daughter. The three of us would go to the zoo, the
county fairs, and even the playground. I would sit on Daddy's lap
at night while he read me one (or more if I was very good) bedtime
stories. He would tuck me in bed at night, then give me a fatherly
kiss on my forehead before turning out the light.

Looking back with "more mature" eyes, there was never anything
sexual between Daddy and I ~~ at least, not then. I probally
wouldn't have noticed it then being as "dumb" as I was, but
looking back now, I would be able to spot it. It was simply a
normal, very-loving father-daughter relationship.

After Mommy suddenly died of breast cancer, Daddy acted the
same for a while, then we began to drift apart. In a childish way, I
knew that Daddy needed me even more, but he kept shutting me
out. He would still tuck me in at night, but it became more
mechanical than loving, then he'd rush right back to his computer.
He never dated, his computer becoming more and more of his life.  

Oh, I forgot to mention that he was a senior programmer for a
small software company. This allowed him to work from home,
then send in the finished product via a telephone line. Only about
three times a month did he have to go into the company's offices to
attend meetings. I guess now-a-days they would call this "tele-
commuting," but back then that word hadn't even been invented (I
think).

                  * * * * *

Chapter 2#   14Year-Old Bonita Joins Our Family

A couple months after my mother's death, a young 14-year-old girl
cousin, Bonita, was waiting for me when I got home from school.
She was to look-after me each week-day afternoon and evening,
and all day on Saturday and Sunday. (I heard that her family really
needed the money.) This kept me "out of Daddy's hair" so he
could quietly work uninterrupted on his many projects. Manytimes
Bonita even cooked dinner for both of us. She kind-of became my
mother and sister combined.

Bonita definitely inherited her innocent, yet sultry, looks from her
very beautiful Spanish mother. She was about 5'2" with hip-length
silky jet-black hair, cascading down her narrow back to a slim
waist, then out again to her full luscious child-bearing hips. Those
perfectly rounded womanly hips swayed so very enticingly as she
walked, but even more distinctly when she strutted. 

That jet-black hair was usually worn in a long silky pony-tail,
though no single guy ever seemed able to corral her for long. Jet-
black eye-brows floated over intense brown eyes ~~ twin pools of
molten lava, while her youthful natural bronze skin constantly
glistened in the bright noon-day sun. 

In her lemon postage-stamp-size bikini, her ripe young bronze
body was sometimes surrounded by a twinkling aura, saying
"come hither" to all the guys. To captivate even further, Bonita
loved putting glossy "fire-engine" red lipstick on her very full,
dark heart-shaped lips, but *only* when her mother wasn't around.

(Bonita once told me that in the cooler weather, she would
sometimes hide her bright lipstick in her right bra cup. "One time,"
she remembered with a grin, "I pushed that lipstick case too far
forward in that bulging cup. I walked around to all my morning
classes with one of the fattest, most obscene fake nipples jutting
out on that side.") 

("It was only around noon," she continued, "that a good girlfriend
cued me in with a giggle ~~ I was sooo embarassed, *but* also
very turned-on. Then, I knew why the boys had been staring at my
firm full titties all morning, sometimes with their pants obscenely
poking way far out.) 

(For that afternoon, I was almost tempted to put another lipstick in
the other cup making a matched pair of obscene nipples, but
chickened out. It would have been interesting to see what those
jerky boys would have done then !!")

With her firm blossoming figure tightly stuffed in Catholic school
clothes ~~ a very snug sheer white blouse; 4-5 inches above-the-
knee green-check skirt, bareing miles of smooth bronze thigh; and
folded-down white ankle-socks ~~ older boys *always* buzzed
around her, like bees around their queen. They even called her
"Honey" ~~ partly because of her beautiful skin color and partly
because her heart-shaped lips were sooo sweet to kiss. <giggle>

Bonita would come here directly from school and privately change
into more casual clothes. Twice when she was running a little late,
I caught her in the bathroom with her white blouse completely off.
Her thin white seamless girly-bra appeared dazzling against her
youthful bronze flesh, while her "womanly" twin rounded globes
pushed those thin girly-bra cups out to their maximum limits,
mounds of bronze flesh overflowing the low-cut tops on each side.
Oh, she looked sooo beautiful, and sooo sensuous. 

Her super-wide dark-brownish areola vividly showed through both
thin white cups, each probably over 3" wide. At that point, I had
never seen her breasts bare, but I guessed that *more* than three-
quarters of each breast was areola. (A vivid contrast from the full-
grown women I had peeked at in changing rooms who had aerola
the size of nickles or quarters, and Bonita was only fourteen !!)

Short stubby nipples crowned each wide flat circle creating very
plump, distinctive "bumps" poking through that otherwise smooth
taut covering. Although very short, both nipples were super-wide,
about 3/4" across or as big around as a tarnished copper penny, and
almost the same color. Even fully covered with her sheer white bra,
I'll bet *any* boy would have given a year's allowance just to see
her standing there, so innocent, but so ripe and ready.

(The only other nipples I had seen this close were my Mommy's
when she was breast-feeding me. Although I remember hearing
snide comments from other women, Mommy breast-fed me until I
was over three and one-half years old, well after I had begun eating
solid food. She only finally stopped because her milk supply had
completely run dry.)

(I can still vividly remember Mommy sitting on the sofa in only
her beige nursing bra and low-cut panties, waiting for me. She
never fully lost her round soft post-pregnancy-tummy. Wearing
those low-cut cotton bikini panties, she looked at least three
months pregnant. I never minded because that bulging flesh was
sooo soft to lay my head against. Daddy didn't seem to mind either,
as even years later, I'd see him sometimes slip his hand under her
clothes and gently knead and rub that bulging "mound" while he
sensuously kissed her. I always wondered if he wished she really
*was* pregnant again.)

(Dressed in only my diapers or training panties, I would lay on the
couch with my head on her soft cozy lap. I enjoyed nestling against
her smooth bare thighs and that warm bulging tummy. Looking up
at those huge over-stuffed nursing bra cups, my waiting lips would
automatically slightly part, then pucker. Those wide wet circles on
her white flaps were so very obvious. Some days, it looked as if the
whole flap and cup was soaking wet with warm sweet mommy's
milk, *and* she had two or three nursing pads inside.)

(Ever so slowly, Mommy would unhook her right cup-flap, letting
that engorged boobie tumble free. That engorged milk-jug looked
so perfectly round, like an over-blown balloon ready to burst.
Under that taut creamy-white flesh, those bulging blue spider-veins
were so clearly revealed, making that boobie look bloated to its
absolute fullest.)

(Its huge reddish-brown nipple quickly blossomed, grossly
puckering from both the cooler air and its prayed-for escape. It
glistened in the sunlight, wet from the warm sweet mommy's milk
that had already seeped out. Looking up, that fat shiny nipple
always looked so warm and friendly, like the wet red nose of the
friendly neighborhood pooch.)

(Most times warm sweet milk would immediately begin dripping
all by itself from five or six openings on that round fat tip. I made a
game of trying to catch those drops on my tongue, then slurping
them into my tiny hungry mouth. Then, Mommy's nipples
reminded me of those long fat straws where the drink would
constantly bubble out the top ~~ what can I say, I was a "little kid"
then.)

(Very soon, Mommy would lower that fat pulsating nipple into my
wide-open waiting mouth. Sometimes, I would get a little squirt of
milk on my nose and cheeks as she jiggled it into position. I would
wait until that long fat nipple touched the back of my mouth before
closing my lips tightly around her puckered rubbery areola.)

(I would suckle and suckle for twenty or twenty-five minutes on
just that one engorged boobie. While I suckled, Mommy's right
hand would gently stroke my long curly blond hair, while her left
hand would lovingly roam over my flat bare chest. Sometimes,
those fingers would stop and play with my tiny bumps of nipples,
making me suckle even harder.)

(I so loved the feel of that warm sweet mommy's milk flowing
down my throat into my little tum-tum. It made me feel very
sleepy and sooo contented. I never told Mommy, but for some
reason, I also loved the feel of her fat rubbery nipple in my mouth.)

(Those were the most perfect times of my life. When I grew up, I
wanted large milky breasts with fat rubbery nipples just like my
Mommy's . . . . *and* a wonderful little baby to suckle on them !! I
would even practice by putting a dolly up to one of my tiny
nipples, letting her suckle until she was full and fell fast asleep.)

(I think my suckling also made my Mommy feel sleepy. Usually,
she would close her eyes and put her head back, resting it on top of
the sofa back. Over my suckling noises, I could hear her loud
uneven breathing, and sometimes a "sigh," as she contently rested.)

(I never understood why Mommy didn't wear more clothes because
usually when I was suckling her second boobie, she would shiver
and shake ~~ probably got a chill. Soon after that, she would tug
that warm boobie away, telling me that we were "finished for
now.")

(Also, even though I was very careful not to dribble, most times
when I finally lifted my head, I noticed that Mommy's panties were
now very wet and very transparent. I could vividly see the dark
curls around her widely parted slit, but she never let me look too
long.)

(At first, I thought that, "Some milk must have dribbled down onto
them." Later, I thought that was strange since her panties still got
very wet during the last few months when her breasts were not
giving very much milk. I was always afraid to ask Mommy about
it, always apologizing to her at the end. She would only smile in
return and tell me, "It was OK.")

(In those days, I thought that her "shivering" was just from the cold
and her "wet panties" was just from my sloppiness. Now, I know
that she climaxed most times while I suckled on her second breast.
*That* is probably the reason she wanted me to still suckle her
breasts for many months after they had stopped giving any warm
sweet milk. By that point, *I* didn't care about the milk either, I
just *loved* her soft round breasts and rubbery nipples, and the
closeness my suckling provided.)

Anyway, later Bonita told me that her boobies, "breasts" she called
them, had developed very early, around age 10. By eleven and one-
half, they were as large as a girl of fifteen. She said that boys
would "accidentially" bump into her at school, sometimes "rubbing
a shaking hand over them." She was embarassed both by their
actions, *and* because her nipples always got very hard, tingling
for minutes on end. After a while, she began to enjoy those
"bumps" and positioned herself so they would happen more
frequently.

By the time I met her at fourteen, her boobies were much larger
than *jumbo* cantaloupe halves, and just as firm with almost no
droop. Those mounds always tried to push out of *any* tight white
bra she was wearing ~~ another inheritence from her mother.

Over the next year plus, Bonita and I became the best of friends,
more like sisters, but without the bickering and fighting. She even
told me that I could call her "Bonnie" as some of her close school
friends did, but I thought that Bonita was a more beautiful name. It
even means "pretty" and is sooo appropriate. (Much later on,
whenever Daddy thought I was out of hearing range, he would call
her "Bunny" instead of "Bonnie" and she would "giggle.")

I would tell Bonita all my childish stories, and in return, she would
tell me about her many boyfriends ~~ after all, she *was* six years
older, fourteen at that time. I could ask her anything, and many
times, did ask some very strange or "dumb" questions, but Bonita
*never* laughed at me. 

By the time I was nine, she was almost fifteen. In my mind, she
knew everything there was to know about boys *and* sex. In hind-
sight, Bonita became my walking, talking sex manual. She had lost
her virginity when she was only twelve to an older uncle, who was
about twenty-two at that time. That uncle, for some reason, quickly
moved away. (I think we had six or seven families of relatives
living in a two block area.)

Bonita softly confessed to me that although "sex" had hurt a lot
that first time, she now loved it more than life. Both because of her
baby-sitting and their families' schedules, she and her boyfriend
could only have sex twice a week. Bonita so looked forward to
those special days. She was always very twitchy the day before,
telling me that her upper thighs itched from a skin condition.
*Now* I know that "condition" was just her being super-horny,
*and* it really wasn't her thighs that itched. <giggle>

                  * * * * *

Chapter 4#   Bonita's Pregnancy at 16

Three months after Bonita turned sixteen, she started putting on
weight. At first, that school-girl above-the-knee green-check skirt
started looking just uncomfortably tight. Bonita moved that
straining button out to the very edge, and tried to stay away from
cake and sweets, but that fixed her problem for only a couple
weeks.

Quickly that check-skirt began fitting her like a championship
custom-made bowling ball cover, and had just as many protruding
curves. (It was still a few months before I tested those deep round
sticky "finger holes" that her boyfriends had so utterly enjoyed.
<giggle>)

Soon, a small safety-pin was needed to keep that over-stretched
waist-band joined, even when she tried to "suck in" her growing
baby-belly. Next Bonita had to lower her zipper just a little, then
resort to an even *larger* pink topped diaper pin. 

Two weeks later, that zipper was always lowered *more* than half
way down. A three-inch-long rubber band was now tied through
that button hole, then looped around the button to keep those two
parts even remotely connected.

At school, *all* the boys would try to "peek" in that wide two inch
"V" gap trying to catch a naughty glimpse of either her smooth
bronze flesh, or the color of today's silky panties. She could easily
tell when they had been successful, cause most of them walked
around with books hiding their tented pants. (A couple pants were
*really* sticking way out there !!) 

Using that "tent test," Bonita quickly figured out that most of the
boys seemed to relish her fire-engine red ones, the same color as
her usual lipstick. From some of the hushed giggles, Bonita felt
that some of the girls were peeking in too.

(Wearing previously-baggy jeans or shorts around here, her
bulging pg tummy now stuck out enough that she not only left
them unbuttoned in the front, but *unzipped* them all-the-way as
well, those top flaps neatly tucked inside. Bonita was constantly
tugging or pulling them back up, wriggling that bulging belly from
side to side every time she did. She tried to cover that up by
wearing extra long tee- or sweat-shirts, but it still showed.)

(I think she hoped Daddy and I wouldn't notice, but by now her
bulging belly was soooo obvious. Everytime her shirt would ride
up in the front, I could vividly see her bulging bronze tummy-flesh,
along with her wide round belly-button, poking through that wide-
open "V". That wide pretzel belly button, about the width of a
quarter, seemed to get shallower and shallower as the weeks passed
by.) 

(Straining my poor over-worked eyes a little more, I could usually
see the top portion of her puffed out panties. Those white cotton
ones showed up exceptionally well against her taut bronze flesh.)

(When those unzipped jeans or shorts had slipped down more than
usual, I was treated to seeing the whole front of her covered puss.
Her plump pussy lips made distinct vertical ridges in those sheer
panties, sometimes even framing a dark damp line inbetween. For
some unknown reason, sneaking peeks at Bonita that way made me
all tingly inside.)

(Many times, my eyes could even see that narrow moist padded
panty crotch running all the way to her rear, between those firm
bronze legs. That moist panty crotch was especially visible when
she stood with her legs spread far apart, trying very hard both to
maintain her modesty *and* keep those fully unzipped pants from
slipping down her wide, child-bearing hips any further.)

Shortly, not only was her previously-flat tummy bulging, but her
boobies were hugely sprouting too. That thin white school-girl
blouse now gaped widely, those buttons valiently straining to stay
closed. 

Those peeping boys now played another game. They would
suddenly tickle her ribs, causing her to jump forward. That
thrusting out of her sprouting chest usually pop'd all those
straining buttons open, exposing her white over-stuffed bra and
bronze chest-flesh to *all* nearby. 

Boys would "chuckle" and girls would "giggle," pointing at her
twin still-encased boobies jiggling up and down as Bonita caught
her breath. Her fat dark brown nipples were vividly revealed,
poking through her thin white bra. Bonita knew many of those girls
were just jealous, her chocolate nubs really belonged on a woman
in her twenties, or maybe thirties, than a young girl of only sixteen.

(Bonita later told me that although she was very embarassed by the
boys' games, her ripe young body also became a quivering ball of
uncontrollable excitement. She almost always ended up with a very
soggy, squishy pair of panties. On quite a few days, her rounded
bloated body became sooo turned-on that she just *had* to sneak
into the little girl's room and hide in a stall.) 

(Those times, she would quickly tug down those soggy panties, lay
back on the toilet seat, while bracing her "Mary Jane" shoes on the
front stall-wall alongside the door, like an Obstetrician's stirrups.
One naughty hand would vigorously rub her blood-swollen pouting
pussy lips, while the other would twist and pinch those hard fat
chocolate nubs.) 

(Pretty soon, a soft chorus of "Oooooos" and "Aaaaaahs" would
escape from between her glossy-red parted lips, bouncing from
wall to wall, then echoing out of that stall. Only a few more frantic
strokes caused her wanton pregnant body to shiver and shake all
over, making that old wooden stall vibrate along with her ~~ a
marimba concerto to the throes of her glorious finale.) 

(Bonita was sure that some of the other girls knew what she was
doing, but none ever said anything, at least not directly to her. A
few times, she saw a made-up eye intently peer through the wide
vertical crack next to that stall door while her young naked preggie
body was bucking and jerking around in climactic bliss, her round
firm buns raising completely off that hard wooden seat.) 

(What wonderous sights that naughty all-seeing eye must have
beheld while peeking up, right between Bonita's widely-parted
smooth-shaven totally-naked legs.  Her abundance of closely
trimmed jet-black pubic curls must have stood out like a blinking
beacon.) 

(Approximating an Obstetrician, if it had strained and spied
intently enough, it could probably see the round bottom her
thriving, ever-expanding womb, pressing downward at the top of
her pulsating over-heated wide-open love-tunnel.) 

(It also pleasingly saw: her sopping panties dangling from one
trembling ankle; her green-check skirt bunched high above her
bloated pregnant belly; her naughty hand vigorously rubbing those
curly drooling swollen brown pussy lips; then all five fingers, at
once, frantically thrusting in and out of her hot throbbing love-
tunnel, tips almost poking her growing baby, until her complete
body began bouncing and thrashing in uncontrollable ecstasy.) 

(As that tired wet sticky hand dropped down in sweet surrender,
that peeking eye must have vividly seen Bonita's hot gooey juices
gush from between those swollen brown lips; then trickle from
between her perfectly-round bronze youthful ass cheeks; and
finally, only drip from her fully-impregnated baby-made love-tunnel.) 

(Bonita never did find out who that naughty eye belonged to, but
for the times it was there, her young body climaxed ever so much
harder !! Once she even found a small puddle outside her stall
door, so maybe, just maybe, she wasn't the only one who wetly
climaxed. That simple thought almost made her go back inside and
begin all over again.)

I think that by now even Bonita knew she was "pg," but probably
hoped that if she ignored it, her problem would "go away." She
*really* didn't know what to do. Even using condoms, I guess that
after three years of "doing it" at least twice a week with a
sucession of boyfriends, some squiggily little spermie was bound
to slip past that "rubber" barrier and into one of her over-ripe eggs. 

At first, Bonita didn't tell *anybody*, not even me or Daddy. One
night going out to dinner with Daddy and I, she easily slipped on
an oversized maroon v-neck sweater, but had to valiently wrestle
her bloated wobbling belly into her stretchy form-fitting black
leather mini-skirt. 

That bulky maroon long-sleeve sweater had a low-plunging "V,"
fully highlighting the deep valley between her inflated floating
half-moons. Bonita even wore a gold arrow-head pendant, dangling
just above, its tip pointing into that dark erotic canyon. I guess she
was trying to attract our eyes *there*, rather than her round bloated
belly. Even with that magnificent distraction, as soon as she
walked into the living room, her "secret" was visibly sticking out,
way far out. 

That black form-fitting mini-skirt accented every bump and bulge,
making even a non-pg woman look chunky. Now on her, that
growing bloated belly *really* looked ballooned out, expanding
sooo much that it became impossible to hide. She looked like she
had slipped a bowling ball under that poor straining skirt.

(Bonita later told me that a few people at school suspected. A
couple of the girls had begun calling her "Pregnita," behind her
back of course.)

<end of part 1>