Landed in city C., tiny airport serving 14,000 souls. Suitcase rattles behind me on the shuttle to the airport hotel. Magnetic key card swipes—beep—room booked for overnight transit. Tomorrow’s flight out. Anonymity pulses: no one knows me here. Elevator dings on lobby level. She’s there. Émilie. 17 in my memories, now 23, five months pregnant. Dark red hair in chignon, black low-cut dress hugging swollen tits and round belly. Perfect pear breasts strain the fabric, nipples hinting through. Our eyes lock. Flashback: 1966, her crashing at my place near tech high school, hand-in-hand walks, hairnet rituals, Vincent stealing her cherry.
Terrace café buzzes. She waves me over, belly prominent under table. Coffee steams. ‘Fred? Still virgin?’ Her smile teases, teeth flashing white. Talk floods: hairnets for workshop class, that thick brown one we bought at Prisu—now hotel gift shop. Vincent, her village ex, the one who tongue-kissed her first, sucked her tits, popped her. Jealousy stings, cock twitches. ‘He wants me exclusive now, but you’re flying out.’ Urgency hits. Her hand guides mine to belly—firm, warm life kicks. I kneel, kiss the curve. Ajuste her chignon playfully. ‘Remember the net?’ She blushes, eyes spark.
The Layover Encounter
We dash to gift shop. Point to thick brown mesh hairnet, heavy weave. Clerk smiles: ‘Try it.’ She nods, embarrassed thrill. Ties corners under chin, red locks trapped visibly. Strangers stare in queue—cashier smirks, corridor echoes footsteps. Back at café, she squeezes my hand, head bowed, pussy likely wet from shame. ‘Walk me to elevator?’ Hand-in-hand like school mornings, her pregnant sway hypnotic. Planes roar outside, tarmac lights flicker.
Swipe her key card—room 312. Door thuds shut. Plaster her against wall, tongue deep like she taught. Basin grinds erection into her belly. Fingers tweak nipples through dress—erect, leaking hint of milk. Dress pools. Naked: belly taut, tits full, pear-shaped, veins blue. ‘Vincent saw these first.’ Jealous fire. She drops to knees, unzips. Virgin cock throbs free. Sucks slow, tongue swirling, eyes up. ‘He came in my mouth too.’
Room Heat and Urgent Release
Bed creaks. She straddles, guides me in—tight, slick from arousal. Pregnant pussy grips. Rocks urgent, belly slaps chest, tits bounce heavy. Corridor voices murmur, cart wheels rumble. ‘Fuck me like you dreamed.’ Pound up, raw slaps echo. Her moans build—’Virgin no more!’ Clench hits, she cums shuddering, juices soak. I explode deep, filling her, fantasy real: seeding the seeded.
Dawn. Key card drops at desk. Suitcase zips. Last kiss, her net still on, tousled. ‘Tell Vincent nothing.’ Shuttle hums to gate. Plane taxis past hotel window—her curves, netted hair, belly burned in. Best stopover ever.