It was a hot day at a cheap theme park, jam-packed with people but rather subdued given the stifling summer heat. I spotted a rollercoaster nearby and headed for it, as I tend to enjoy thrill rides a great deal. Before I reached the line, though, a far more attractive prospect presented itself. A third trimester preggo sat alone on a bench near the start of the coaster’s line, under shade yet remarkably sweaty even by summertime theme park standards.
Her dark hair was a mess, strands plastered wetly to her forehead and cheeks. Her black tank top clung to her body moistly, leaving little of her sizable bosom or gravid belly to the imagination. Her legs were spread wide, presumably for air circulation, her short jean shorts seeming to obscure her crotch by just a few inches. I quickly decided on a course of action, bought two waters at a nearby concession stand, and made my approach.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy, but you really look like you could use a cold drink.” I offered her one of the bottles of water, and she instantly took it and thanked me profusely. She drank the water with fervor, hardly taking a breath before the bottle was empty; she looked a good deal better afterward. Her husband had just gotten in line for the rollercoaster, it turned out, and he’d be in line for at least 90 minutes. She was too overheated and exhausted to even seek out air conditioning at the moment, opting instead for some shade to build her energy back up for a spell.
Apparently she was in need of someone to spill her guts to as much as she’d been in need of refreshment. She told me she hadn’t even wanted to come to the park in this weather and in her condition, but her immature, unthoughtful husband had pretty much insisted, promising her he’d go slow with her and they’d take lots of advantage of AC and cold drinks. He hadn’t slowed down in hours, though, had only spent about 20 minutes of air-conditioned time with her, and was now in his third line of the day for a thrill ride she wasn’t allowed on. “What a guy,” she concluded.
“You know, the Hansel and Gretel ride is right around here. The whole thing is air conditioned, even the line, which is usually pretty quick,” I told her. “Do you want to grab a few more waters and head over there?” She very much did, and we were on our way. In the refreshing 10 minutes we were in the line, she must have caught me staring at her substantial bump at least 30 times. Maybe 20 glances in, she laughed and slapped her belly with both hands. “I’m pretty huge, huh?” I shook my head, feeling my cheeks redden. “No, no, not at all. I mean, yeah, you’ve got quite the pregnant belly going, but I think it’s…it looks great on you.” She smiled and remained quiet for the few minutes until we boarded the ride.
This was a dark ride, a tiny boat slowly taking us through a series of tableaus that would tell the story of Hansel and Gretel. The moment our boat left the boarding area and entered the dark tunnel prior to the first scene, my new friend lifted her tank top, rolled down her maternity shorts’ belly band, and placed my hand onto her fully bared belly. Her move made, I made my own by bringing over my other hand, rubbing and gently prodding the entirety of her firm, sweat-sticky bump. “Do you like the way it feels?” she whispered in my ear. “Yes…yes I do,” I stammered.
We came to the first tableau, a depiction of Hansel and Gretel overhearing their mother’s plan to abandon them in the forest so as not to have to share food with them anymore. In the light this provided I could finally make out the wonderfully smooth skin of her belly, her defined linea nigra, and aggressive outie of a belly button. I saw her examining my crotch and smiling. “You really do like it, huh?” Apparently not satisfied with me seeing just her bump, she lifted her shirt up over her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and I got a fantastic view of her milk-heavy, dark-nippled tits.
They were irresistible, and they were both in my hands as we approached the scene of the children leaving a trail of pebbles as they were led into the forest. “Squeeze near the nipples,” she said quietly. I did so with both at once, thin sprays of milk shooting out of the boat and making soft noises as the milk landed on the water surrounding us. I laughed in surprise, my hands sticky with her breastmilk. Continuing to work both tits with one hand, I couldn’t resist bringing my other hand back to her phenomenal bump.
She couldn’t resist an urge herself, reaching over to unzip my shorts and pull my throbbing hard cock out of my boxers. Her stroke was slow and rhythmic, and my sounds of pleasure were carefully soft. Hansel and Gretel were back at their parents’ home, their mother furious that they were still alive.
My companion having initiated genital contact, I felt safe reaching over to maneuver my hand past her belly band and into her shorts. She wasn’t wearing panties, either, and she was already considerably wet. I worked her clit with two fingers and fingered her with another two. She moaned, loudly for a moment, then with careful restraint. Hansel and Gretel left a trail of breadcrumbs this time, but the crumbs were immediately eaten by birds as they hit the ground. I was already struggling not to cum, knowing full well that the fairy tale was far from over.
The preggo leaned over as Hansel and Gretel found a cottage made of gingerbread and candy. An old woman emerged to invite them in for a meal, and my cock was being sucked enthusiastically. I had to reposition my hands for the new posture my boat-mate had taken, now placing one on the back of her bobbing head and just managing to reach her pussy again with the other. The kids found out the woman is an evil witch as the preggo climaxed with my cock in her mouth, her suction increasing and pace quickening.
I was unable to hold back any longer, shooting cum into my date’s mouth as Gretel pushed the witch into an open oven. My load was slurped up noisily and audibly swallowed. One hand was still working her pussy as my partner sat back up, my other hand now able to retake its position on her delightful belly. I got her off again. Hansel and Gretel returned home with the witch’s jewels to find their evil mother had died, their kind father greatly relieved that they were still alive. I tucked my dick back into my shorts and zipped up; the preggo pulled her belly band back up and tank top back down.
We came back around to the boarding area and disembarked from the boat. Exiting the air conditioned building, we went our separate ways without exchanging a word. What a fun ride.