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Dressing Room Sex-While Pregnant

Ahh, it’s true. There is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. My rainbow is pregnancy and now that I’ve finally arrived at my third trimester, I’m having good sex again. Well, let me further explain what I mean by “good.” Yes, I’m still lugging around 40 extra lbs. of weight and I can’t breathe in my favorite sex positions. However, my sex drive has returned in this third trimester. I’m no longer faking orgasms or in pain during intercourse. Sex is good- too good actually. I think about having sex all day. Hell, I even dream about it sometime.

My current urge for sex is worse than my pickle and peanut butter addiction. I don’t eat them together, but I’ve definitely bit a pickle, and 30 seconds later shoved a spoon of crunchy peanut butter in my mouth (not my proudest prego moment.) But, back to sex. I need it every day- multiple times if possible. And, unfortunately, the closer I get to delivering the harder that becomes achievable. This is due to multiple reasons. First, obviously, the very active 7lb baby that does not find the movements of intercourse soothing and become lullabied to sleep (like the pregnancy pamphlets say.) I think my baby boy thinks it is playtime, because intercourse makes him excited. Sometimes too excited for us to morally continue. Which leads me to my second reason being my boyfriend is scared of intercourse now. He doesn’t want to hit our baby in the head. He’s also creeped out when the baby is constantly moving during intercourse. So, getting him to agree to sex has to come with a bribe (usually a blow job.)

And lastly, both of our mothers are in town visiting with no intentions of leaving until after the baby arrives. It seems as though they have no intentions of giving my boyfriend and I a second of privacy either. I’m extremely grateful for their help. I can’t even tie my own shoe right now. Therefore, the constant cooking from his mother and my mother’s non-stop organizing and cleaning has been a big help. But, damn, they never give us alone time for sex. Even at night when it’s time to go to bed, at least one of them is up in the living room watching game shows and painting toe nails. So right now, all we can squeeze in are quickies. There’s this one time our quickie went terribly wrong. I was too desperate, and this dressing room quickie should’ve never happened.  



Well, it had been about 48 hours since I had my last orgasm (too long for me, my hormones were raging.) I was doing my daily exercise and walking around the mall. My boyfriend accompanied me this time. I was hoping to walk off my sexual frustration but by the third lap… I was still horny. We were finally alone too. I mean, technically there were hundreds of people surrounding us in that mall, but we were away from our mothers and spending quality time. That’s when I came up with the bright idea to have sex in a dressing room. I didn’t tell my boyfriend about my idea. Remember he was uneasy about sex. I only told him I’d buy him a pair of jeans out of this specific store. I picked a large department store with high traffic and noise. I followed him in the dressing room. I claimed I just wanted to have a seat. But when he closed the door I started pulling my pants off. He caught on quickly to what was going on and surprisingly didn’t back down- the kissing began.

This was a small fitting room. With only a small ledge to set items on. Our only option was to bend me over. After I was bent over he started to unhook my bra. This bra wasn’t in the best condition. It was one of those favorite old bras that need to be thrown away, but you don’t have the heart to do it. The hooks were bent out of shape and barely hanging on by the threads. 

My chest is growing quickly, and this bra was the most comfortable one I had for this pregnancy boob situation. I fight with this bra regularly; I told him to let it go, we didn’t have that much time. But, no, he just had to see my boobs and kept on tussling with it. He *loudly* whispered, “I almost got it, chill out.” Still, nothing happened, and I was getting annoyed with the tugging. We started bickering at each other then all of a sudden, the bra pops off. The bra hits the floor and so does a drop of blood. I felt a painful deep scratch on my back when the bra came off. 

“WTF did you do?” I screeched.

I then heard giggles from the dressing room next door which let me know this sex extravaganza was over. Somehow the clasp and his ring caught on to each other and when the bra clasp unhooked it dug his ring into my back, causing my skin to break and now my back was bleeding. 

“I’m sorry, are you okay?”  He tried to whisper. I stood up to take a look at my back in the mirror. The cut wasn’t as bad as I thought but it was bleeding heavily. We used a sock to press onto the scar and catch the blood. We had to stand there and apply pressure for at least 3 minutes to get the bleeding to stop. 

“You can never just leave my boobs alone,” I yelled as I put my clothes back on. 

We heard giggles again. It was definitely time to go.

We went into the family restroom and I was able to properly care for my new scar. I had a band-aid in my purse. I knew only my mom had to place it there. Can you imagine how we explained the blood on the back of my shirt to our mothers’ when we returned home? He came up with a good excuse, though. No further questions were asked. And, unfortunately no quickie for me that day. 



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T. Rogers

T. Rogers is a reader by day and writer by night. With over 7 years of content writing, she continues to prevail in her world of sour patch kids, expensive shoes and awkward moments that spark her courage to tell the greatest stories never told.

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