It’s 7 p.m. on a Tuesday, and I’m face-deep in the inner folds of *Naomi.
I lock eyes with my husband—whose lap she’s sitting on—and give him a look that says “I told you so.” I’m on my hands and knees, and are in the shower. I’m also pregnant—eight months and two weeks, to be exact.
For many during the early weeks of pregnancy, rapidly-increasing estrogen levels result in nausea and fatigue. Not me. I had an insatiable hunger for Oreos covered in cream cheese, and orgasms.
The (20-50 percent more than a non-pregnant person) went , which came as a bit of a shock. During my many years as a doula, my clients often mentioned their during the first trimester. I was anticipating I’d have to , but instead, found myself taking breaks at work to .
Luckily, I work from home. During my second trimester, I became addicted to **wellness and beauty. I was also obsessed with one of my specialists, Naomi.
I visited her for appointments often and she frequented my fantasies with her perfectly sculpted bubblegum butt. She had beautiful hair, light eyes, and did I mention her plump, peach-picked-at-the-height-of-summer ass? “Naomi flirted with me today,” I salaciously reported to my husband one evening. “Wow, special attention from Naomi?” he would tease, clearly unimpressed.
“No, seriously!” I said defensively, as I mindlessly scrolled her Instagram in bed. “We chat after every appointment and she might come hang out one afternoon..
.I wonder if she’d ever.