Hold It In on the Shore
Lena’s bare feet sank into the warm sand as she walked along the shoreline, the late afternoon sun baking her skin. Her black one piece swimsuit clung to her heavily pregnant belly, the fabric stretched obscenely tight over the massive curve. Every few steps a deep, involuntary contraction rolled through her, making her thighs tremble and her breath hitch. She clenched hard, determined not to push.
Tim walked beside her, one hand resting low on the small of her back, the other occasionally sliding around to cup the underside of her belly. Another wave hit. Lena’s knees nearly buckled. She grabbed Tim’s arm and forced herself to keep walking, hips swaying in a desperate, waddling rhythm as she fought the urge to bear down. “Don’t… don’t let me push” she whispered, the words half-moan. “I can’t....fuck...I can feel the head right there.”
Tim’s fingers slipped under the high cut leg of her swimsuit from behind. He pressed his fingers against the soft, stretched opening of her cunt, feeling the hard, rounded shape of the baby’s head already low and pressing outward. He applied firm, steady pressure, holding it in. They made it another twenty yards before the next contraction seized her. This one was brutal. Lena’s mouth fell open in a silent cry. Her hips jerked forward against her will. Tim shoved his hand back under the swimsuit, palm covering her swollen pussy, fingers digging in to keep the crowning head from slipping free. “Stay in,” he ordered, voice rough. “Hold it for me, baby. Just a little longer.”
Lena’s eyes were glassy. She leaned into him, one hand under her own belly, the other clutching his wrist as he continued to push the head back inside her. The pressure was enormous. She could feel every ridge of the baby’s skull against Tim’s fingers and against the thin barrier of the swimsuit fabric. A low, continuous moan spilled out of her. People farther down the beach glanced over, but the couple looked like any other pair of lovers on a slow walk... except for the way Lena’s thighs kept shaking and the wet dark stain spreading wider on her crotch.
They finally stopped near a cluster of rocks. Lena couldn’t take another step. She planted her feet wide in the sand, knees soft, and braced her hands on her knees. The swimsuit was so tight across her belly and mound that the outline of the baby’s head was already faintly visible, a rounded bulge pressing against the soaked black fabric between her legs. Tim crouched in front of her, eyes locked on the spot. “Show me” he said.
Lena’s face flushed dark with heat and humiliation and pure lust. She reached down with both hands and tugged the crotch of the swimsuit to the side. The moment the fabric shifted, the baby’s head surged forward. The dark, wet crown of hair and the top of the skull peeked out of her stretched, glistening hole, just a couple of centimeters, shiny with fluid. The swimsuit fabric was still half-covering it, the head poking against the material so that a clear, rounded shape distorted the black lycra.
“Oh fuck look” Lena moaned, voice broken and filthy. She held the fabric aside with trembling fingers, letting Tim stare at the tiny portion of the head that had escaped. Another contraction ripped through her. She pushed without meaning to. The head advanced another fraction, stretching her open wider, the crown more visible now, pressing hard against the inside of the swimsuit. A thick gush of fluid ran down her legs and dripped onto the sand.
"It’s right there" she panted, staring down between her own spread thighs. “Fuck, Tim, look how much is out. It’s stretching me so fucking wide… I can feel every bit of it.” She rocked her hips, letting the head poke farther into the swimsuit, the fabric now tented and wet around the emerging shape. Her free hand rubbed circles over her huge belly while she kept the crotch of the suit pulled aside, presenting the half-crowned head to her boyfriend like a filthy prize. Tim leaned in close, breath hot against her inner thigh. “Keep it just like that” he said. “Don’t push it all the way out yet. Let me see it strain against the swimsuit.” Lena obeyed, trembling on the edge of full delivery, the baby’s head held in that narrow, exposed window between denial and surrender. Every few seconds another small push forced it a little farther, the swimsuit fabric stretching tighter over the wet, rounded shape until the outline was unmistakable. She moaned continuously now, low and shameless, standing there on the public beach with her legs spread, swimsuit yanked aside, the top of her baby’s head poking out for Tim’s eyes while the sun beat down and the waves rolled in behind them.
