Today after lunch I kissed hubby, and watched him fly away for an overnighter on the coast. My schedule was remarkably clear for a Monday so I bailed out of work early. I drove straight home, and began enjoying the privacy of the long afternoon engaged in every klismo’s favorite hobby.
While holding an excitingly cool couple of liters with the aid of a tampon, I was alternating between minutes on my bed lost in delightfully orgasmic ecstasy, and minutes of wandering around my bedroom like one stoned. I was buck naked, bulging tummy in hand, appreciating as I often do the pseudo-preggie look my swollen abdomen showed in the mirror.
Somewhere along the way I got into sorting through some old clothes, and came across a snug old black stretch-nylon tank swimsuit. I pulled it on and watched my tummy in the mirror. Two things happened. First, my abdominal muscles greatly appreciated the firm support of the suit, and second,my abdomen’s shape relaxed to a shape that looked considerably more naturally pregnant to my eye.
The suit brought a level of comfort to my “hold” equal to any girdle I’ve tried, and somehow it had a much more secure and comforting feel about it. Nothing would do, of course, but that I had to add another liter of water. After that I wandered around with three liters in me for over an hour, enjoying the lovely afternoon. Sure brightened up my Monday.
I did try typing this earlier, while still being the pregnant bathing beauty, honest I did, but it was just beyond me at that point. Now I'm sitting here at the computer, starkers, with the cats looking at me like Mom's gone nuts. C'mon kitties, you've seen it all before. It's an enema, not an obsessive-compulsive fetish.
Hugs,[font=arial]Diane[/font],