At one point in my life I went through six pregnant women, one right after the other.Here are three of my experiences. First Trimester. Bea got pregnant. She was the last person in our circle we thought would get pregnant. As a rising executive in a Fortune 500 company, her pregnancy would certainly slow, if not outright stall her climb up the corporate ladder. And she wasn't even in a relationship - that we knew of. It just didn't make sense. But then, rational thought is no competition for a woman's biological clock. What made even less sense was my entering into a relationship with her. I wasn't attracted to her - her grating personality just turned me off. I was really after her best friend, Terri. I just sort of stumbled into the relationship after having lunch with the two women. Bea mentioned she needed to move some stuff out of her condo and into a storage faciilty. To score some points with Terri, I volunteered for the heavy lifting. One thing led to another- assembling baby furniture, painting the nursery...etc - and I ended up becoming Bea's go-to man. I knew she appreciated my help but I could tell she was beginning to question my motives. She started testing me. First, there was flirting and teasing. I didn't take the bait. I really wasn't attracted to her. Then, she became verbally abusive. Nothing I did was fast enough, good enough, or competent enough. I didn't take it personally. The first trimester is physically and emotionally brutal on women. And I could tell she was beginning to feel the full import of her decision. She was scared. I understood. But I couldn't be seen as weak. I can dish it out as well take it. I got kicked out a lot. It was just part of the process. She wanted to know if I'd come back, if she could depend on me. It was all about developing trust. Second Trimester. Katie was a perfect example of the second trimester metamorphosis. As she explained it to me, "It's like I'm in a different body, experiencing sensations for the first time." I imagine it was like what I felt revving the engine of my first muscle car, feeling the power rumble under my ass. I couldn't wait to take her out to the highway and open her up. But I had to be patient with Katie. Just because the hormones flowing through her body were making her feel sexy, that didn't mean she wanted to have sex. If I'd tried to push her into sex, I would have blown it. Instead, I offered to help her explore her "new" body with light massages. We took our time. Eventually we found an erogenous zone that really revved up her engine: her feet. It didn't take but a good foot massage to lather her up. But she didn't always want to follow it with sex. I just had to accept that and not pressure her. When she did want sex she always gave me the same cue: she'd raise a foot to my face, inviting me to suck her toes. After that, it was on like Donkey Kong. She'd want my tongue on her clit and a finger rubbing her g-spot. And she wanted it immediately! In no time she'd spray like the Bellagio fountains - she nearly took my eye out the first time. It surprised her too; she'd never squirted before in her life. And the orgasms were so intense they'd knock her out of commission, leaving her with an exhausted smile on her face as she held her stomach, feeling the baby stir from all the commotion. Bea's new erogenous zone was in an even more unexpected place, and she was none too happy about it. It started with a pleasurable bowel movement. She didn't think much of it until it happened again. It was more than just relief, she was enjoying it. It was richly ironic because Bea was known to have delicate sensibilities about that area of the body. Any time subjects such as gas, diarrehea, or anal sex were even broached, she would leave the room. So when she confided in me about her "movements," I couldn't resist wallowing in her discomfort. "If that's were your itch is, I'll scratch it." "Ew! That's disgusting. I bet you'd like that wouldn't you. You men will stick it anywhere." "Look, Bea, if you want to try it, just say so." "Well I don't! So, don't bring it up again." I didn't have too. After yet another one of those glorious "movements," she called me into the bathroom. I walked in on her leaning on the counter top with her bare ass stuck out. "Just do it." I tried explaining to her that it wasn't as easy as just sticking it into her virgin ass, but she cut me off. "Don't talk about it!" I took my time loosening her up, then I slowly pushed the head into her anal ring. "Stop! It's not going to fit." "Shhh! Trust me." Another little nudge, and plop, I was in. She sighed with relief. Ten minutes later she was a moaning, groaning little butt slut. But she never got over her disgust for the act. After literally fucking the shit out of her, she'd always kick me out - she could never face me immediately after. Jodi had more conventional tastes sexually, but she was the hardest on me physically. She wanted me to stay over and spoon with her until she fell asleep. The problem was her baby would sometimes get restless in the middle of the night, and the sirring of life made her incredibly horny. She'd wake me up sucking my dick. Then we would lace fingers over her stomach and I'd enter her from behind. The combination of the spooning, the baby's movement, and my dick rubbing against her vaginal walls would send her over the top. The sex was great but I lost a lot of sleep. Third Trimester The third trimester is tricky. I could never gauge how a woman was going to change. Bea became very maternal. Butt fucking was out. Mothers didn't do that sort of thing. She gave me blowies to keep me around but she locked the back door and threw away the key. Jodi became self-conscious about "leaking" doing orgasms. It took some convincing before she accepted that I was okay with it. Katie was gung-ho right up to her delivery. Her orgasms became even more intense as the baby got heavier. But there was one thing all the women had in common: They grew increasingly uncomfortable with me being around. They were preparing themselves for the next phase of their lives. Between their jobs and their babies there would be no time for anything - or anyone- else. I had to go. And that's what you have to understand and accept in this type of relationship. It's never about you. Sexually, you'll never be any more meaningful to them than the vibrator they keep in their nightstand. Expect the sex to be one-sided, as well every other aspect of the relationship. You're not building a life together no matter how warm and fuzzy you may feel. If you can accept that, then maybe prego sex is for you.