Girl on the Net

I can’t remember when it was, but I hit a certain age and my parents and grandparents switched from ‘try not to get pregnant!’ to ‘quick, have babies NOW!’ My mind hasn’t quite followed their logic, but I am dimly aware that there are reasons to have sex alongside the fact that it’s really bloody fun, and this week’s guest blogger is going to tackle one of them. Namely: having sex in order to get pregnant.

His blog warmed the cockles of my otherwise ice-cold heart, and I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I did.

Our own private mating season

Reading this blog and others like it it’s easy to forget that sex has practical applications and useful consequences. Fucking for fun is great, I think we can all agree, but when you fuck as frequently as possible, it can change your approach and attitude a little when the task at hand is the whole baby making thing. My wife and I have been together since we were teenagers and while its a big ask to compete with the rampant halcyon fuck drunk days of our youth we have always been modestly proud of our sex drive. The prospect of having an excuse to ignore the rest of the world for a while in order to commence our own private mating season was initially a very appealing one.

The admittedly slightly nauseous idea of a mating season is closer to the truth than you might think. Turns out that while previously we were perfectly content being adventurous in our own little way, (blackout contact lenses anyone?) high-fiving after sex and the general smugness that goes with a successful marriage born of a high school romance, keeping it going with no success does start to take its toll. The disappointment of unsuccessful attempt after unsuccessful attempt can somewhat sap your enthusiasm.

Let me tell you, nothing motivates a woman like a need to get pregnant. After we married we sort of pushed the thought of starting a family to the back of our minds while we enjoyed our 20’s. Babies would happen when we chose. Only it didn’t. The time it was taking was just the half of it and we obliviously succumbed to old wives tales, ovulation timings, temperature measurements, certain positions etc, it really took the fun out of what we had once loved.

It’s the little things you end up missing. Taking your sweet time about things is the first thing that goes. I loved nothing more than edging her until the begging became too insistent to ignore, but in an effort to increase our chances quick functional fucks became the routine. Who knew cumming inside someone would also get a bit dull? I longed for the days when I could do what I wanted with my load, we joked spunk would be her first craving. We finally went to the doctor, puncturing the tedium with a trip to the fertility clinic. While there the question that sprang to mind was ‘is it hot wanking in a hospital?’, we found out the answer is ‘it is if she watches’ and so we enjoyed a brief state-sponsored masturbatory fling at the taxpayer’s expense. The tests came back and she was put on some pills that would encourage the release of more eggs to give us a higher chance of conceiving. Two months later we had a positive test. It took a total of three years and four months.

We have our 20 week scan this week and it’s all very exciting. Sex isn’t completely as it was. The little bump that is now poking it’s way under my wife’s vest tops has forced me take it easier on her, much to her disappointment. When there is a little belly button waving at you the thought of grabbing her at the neck with her elbows tied behind her back starts to lose its lustre. You can’t just throw a baby laden woman around.

There is one major plus side though, I’ve always had a bit of attraction toward pregnant women. Maybe something about the healthy glow you get or perhaps the fertility thing. Having a wife wandering about pregnant is deliciously novel and hot. Sort of like the ultimate change in style or hair cut, it’s all a bit different and new but with the advantage of it being very familiar. That and her breasts look fucking glorious. I’m aware I’m in a sweet spot at the moment, the queasy first trimester is done with and we are aren’t quite yet at the exhausting, help me I’m a turtle on its back, by the way the baby just kicked me during foreplay stage. Before I know it I’ll be conceding some ground to an actual baby human and an early night will mean something entirely different.

It will be interesting to see what will happen after the birth. I don’t doubt there will some time where my cock is the last thing she wants near her. But if nothing else there is the Doxy vibrator I bought her one week before we found out she was pregnant. She’s had precisely one orgasm with it and it’s killing her that’s it’s sat unused in her bedside underneath the new mum books and multivitamins. The instructions are very clear though, for the moment she can’t have a go, but it’s there ready, awaiting the inevitable moment when it’s relentless buzzing is cut short by the limp vibrate function on our new Tomy baby monitor.