During the second and third trimester of pregnancy one common symptom is a high occurance of vivid, often erotic, dreams. In this article our newest contributor describes one such dream in her own inimitable style.

I was so nervous and he looked 20 times better in person than on TV or in pictures. He hopped into the passenger seat and I pulled out a silver sharpie. Right then 2 thugs with bandanas over their mouths, all wearing black appeared out of the woods. .50¢ Said, "Aww shit, here comes some shit, these bitches been tryin' to kill me since the 90's". The thugs started coming closer and I was afraid they were gonna shoot. One was short and fat and the other was averaged sized. I said to .50¢ "Umm, they better not shoot, I'm 4 and half months pregnant and I don't really wanna die you know?" he said, "Then duck bitch 'cause they is gon' shoot". So we ducked and the thugs shot up all my windows and I started the Honda and put it into reverse and drove off as fast as I could. Unfortunately fast was like 20 miles and hour and the thugs hopped on little bikes and started following us and they were gaining quickly.

.50¢ says, "Yo, don't this ride go any faster?" I told him no, but I knew how we could lose those guys. I made a sharp turn onto a dirt road and the thugs missed us and kept riding past. I slowed the Honda down and made a sigh of relief. .50¢ got out and started kicking the dirt, talking about how he could never get away from death and that someone is always gonna try and kill a brother. I got out and tried to soothe him by latching onto his waist, rubbing his 8 pack and kissing his neck. He smelled sooo good like cheesy Drakar Noir. Cheesy yes but still smelling good. He said, "Hey what you be doing girl?" I told him I just wanted to make him safe so we could raise this baby together. He told me he always wanted a baby and that he would love it even if it wasn't black which made my day! We agreed to drive over to Grampa Joe's and hide out there. On the drive over his hand was on my knee and my hand was on his package. It was very romantic.

At Grampa Joe's house we unloaded a whole bunch of bullet proof vests, team jerseys, platinum chains and much more bling than I had ever seen. I asked him where all this shit came from and he told me he had an epiphany last week that a pregnant white girl would pick him up on the side of the road to escape his killers and so he already had a bag packed full of supplies and snuck them in my hatchback before I even knew it. Whoa, I thought, this was a sign we were meant to be together. We finished unloading and I introduced him to Grampa Joe. Grampa wasn't too fond of black people but I told him he was the father of my baby and that he had to respect that and be nice. I kissed grampa and gave him a hug and then we went into one of the trailers bedrooms. (Oh yeah, grampa lived in the woods in a 1960, 12 x 60 foot trailer - no shit!) By then it was nightfall and both of us were tired as hell. We got naked and layed in the tiny twin bed together and I fell asleep in .50¢'s big, buff, tattooed arms. About an hour later I woke up to .50¢ rubbing and kissing my breasts. So we totally started doing it. It was good and he was big and was really sweet to me, but I found it hard to focus because he was naked except for a bullet proof vest. The lovemaking continued all night long until early morning when we were woken up by guns being pointed to our heads....

What would happen next I will never know because I woke up with a full bladder. I don't think I should read Playboy interviews right before I fall asleep anymore. But it was a nice dream to have actually, except for the almost dying part. I did get to have some hot sex in a twin bed with .50¢ who I think is pretty handsome in a mean, scary way and it was nice to see my Grampa Joe again who died in 1994.

His timing is always perfect.

This morning, he had warned me not to take a bath and make myself come. He is always very specific in his instructions. He knows that I might never even consider doing whatever it is that he is about to order me not to do. He also knows that telling me not to do it will compel me to do it.

I usually shower in the morning before I go to work. I almost never take a bath unless my muscles are sore. Today my muscles don’t hurt at all. However, when I got home from work, I walked through the empty house, talking off my business suit as I went. I knew I’d have time to pick up the evidence of my indiscretions before he got home from work. He was set to work late tonight, and I get home from work early, so there was no way he’d find out about it.

Maybe I’d get away with it this time.

Once he brought home a giant dildo, more massive than I’d ever seen. He told me I could fuck it in any way I wanted to but I was not allowed to take it up my ass. I could suck it, I could ram it up my cunt, but I could not shove it up my ass, no matter what. I became obsessed with shoving it up my ass. I went to work with it in my briefcase, along with a bottle of lube. I went into the stairwell at work on my lunch break and poured lube all over the massive cock and shoved it deep up my ass. I worked it all around, screaming in pain and ecstasy. Nobody saw or heard me. I got back to my desk early from lunch and there was a voice message from him, telling me I had been a very naughty girl who deserved to be punished. He attached clamps to my nipples and clitoris and threaded a chain through all of them for a month. My clothing kept me aroused and hard, and one tug on the chain made me come. He tugged on the chain often, and in public, because he knew he could make me come harder that way. He made sure he accepted several social events that month.

This time would be different, I was sure.

I stripped out of my Italian stiletto pumps, leaving them at the door. My suit jacket went over the stair railing. I shimmied out of my knee-length skirt as I walked upstairs to the bedroom and left it askew on the stairs.

I could already smell my juices, having thoroughly dampened the string thong that is the only covering he will allow me to wear over my pussy.

I unhooked my garter belt from my stockings, which I wear not only because it allows him easy access to me anytime and anywhere he wants, but because I tend to be a klutz and it’s far easier to replace one stocking with a run in it than to change an entire pair of hose every single day. I peeled off my stockings and left them in the entrance of the bedroom. The garter belt was next, tossed onto the bed, landing somewhere in the vicinity of the pillow. I slid my silk camisole slowly up my body as I took it off, rubbing it against my hardened nipples through the lace demi bra I wore underneath it. I pulled it over my head in the entrance of the master bathroom as I walked in.

I like my baths hotter than hot and filled with frothy, fragrant bubbles. I chose vanilla for this bath, something that reminded me of taste and tongues and eating. I didn’t think about the fact that this wasn’t my regular scent of lavender; that he’d wonder why I smelled like vanilla in the middle of the day.

As the bathwater filled in the Jacuzzi tub, I pulled and stroked my nipples hard through the lace bra, where they almost spilled over the top. This style of bra is something he also dictates. He wants to be able to grab by nipples at any time. He likes that my very full breasts were ready to spill out, and did at the slightest bend in this bra. He likes to force me to bend over and pick things up in public, in low cut or tight shirts, knowing that other men and women are watching me and seeing my tits on full display. Once, before I went to a party where I was wearing a very low cut halter dress, he told me not to show my tits to anyone. At the party a woman dropped a napkin on the floor in front of several people who were staring at my cleavage. I volunteered to pick it up, but as I kneeled down to get it, no matter how careful I was, my breasts popped out and several admirers saw them. Just then, the butler of the house came over with a note for me on a silver tray. It read, "Don’t worry, darling. I knew you couldn’t last very long without showing them off." He put a leather collar with a padlock on it around my neck for a week, and left me to explain my new, unique neckwear accessory to our friends and everyone at work.

In this case, though, nobody was here to witness my indiscretion. He would never know.

The bathwater was rapidly filling up the tub. I took my bra off and dropped it on the floor.

I could feel my juices dripping down my legs at this point. I grabbed the sides of my thong and pulled it up, rubbing the string back and forth against my clit, causing me to moan.

The bathtub was full by this time so I took off the thong and got into the tub. The extreme warmth of the water against my cunt and my nipples made me gasp in shock. I breathed deeply until I could breathe normally and then buried my left hand deep into my cunt and my ass at the same time, with the heel of it pressed against my clit. The right hand grabbed the side of the bathtub for stability while the left hand stroked in and out of my two holes, applying pressure against the side walls of my vulva so I could feel the pressure of my fingers through my walls.

Unable to wait any longer, my right hand began rapidly stroking my clit while my left hand stroked into my G spot and the fingers in my ass separated and stroked deeper. Within a minute, I came screaming, inhaling vanilla bath water uncaringly, almost passing out from the strength of my orgasm. When I came to, I realized that the phone was ringing. Barely conscious, I made my way into the bedroom and put the phone on speaker.

"What are you up to?" he said.

"N-nothing," I replied. "I just got home ten minutes ago." At least that part was the truth.

"Hmmm. Well, my meeting was cancelled, so I’ll be home in about twenty minutes. Oh, and don’t bother to drain the bathwater, darling. We’ll need it for your punishment. See you soon."

His timing is always perfect.

For the foxy and crafty we present to you the ultimate willy warmer knitting pattern! by Linda LoveMuch