Helping a Mummy

(Distant shouting) ‘Umm! Excuse me! Can you help me?’

Stopping in my track for home, I looked to the steep staircase leading up to some HDB blocks, where a pregnant woman was at the bottom of. Running over to her out of fear, it seemed that one of her grocery plastic bags had given way. I gathered all the fallen stuff into the good and already-heavy bags, before taking them from her forearms.

If it wasn’t heartbreaking enough to see an expecting woman shopping on her own, her small frame only made me lose faith in humanity. On the way back to wherever she lived, I couldn’t help but noticed how young she looked, like 20s, or lesser, on top of the bulge I can’t tell its age for nuts.

‘You look really young though. Can I ask how old?’

‘Twenty. For both of us.’

‘Twenty years old. Twenty weeks. Right?’


I realised how helpless I was to continue the conversation as I had no idea how was she coping, if she is a single parent, or a happy family. Much of the trip happened in silence with the exceptions of names, ages, and logical questions about where I lived.

Upon reaching the block with no supermarkets for 3km in any directions, she let me walk her up to an apartment I didn’t know what to make out of. In that house, we went straight to her room where a fridge stood next to the door, wardrobe and study table against the wall in front of the bed.

‘This is rented?’

‘Yupp. I live alone.’

So, I know what should NOT be discussed, namely, her family, father of the child, and pretty much everything. She left me alone to unpack the shopping bags and brought some water for me before politely excusing herself to take a shower.

In that room, did I felt so unjust for what our government could have done for women like her. Pride and reliance aside, her emotional state would easily improve with better living condiions.

‘Did you unpack everything? You shouldn’t have. Thank you for your help.’

‘It’s my pleasure. How about I leave you my phone number, and you can ask me along when you go shopping.’

RIGHT! Most of the groceries were perishables that could be eaten boiled, along with packets of instant noodles I tucked under the desk, which kept the only cooking appliance she had – an electric pot.

Dwelving further into the monthly income she lived on, our little chat turned for a darker end once her parents, ex-boyfriend, were involved. He got her pregnant, and promised to take care of the child if she moved away from her much-angered parents. Once they found this place, he stayed and fucked her for another two months before disappearing without a trace.

Well, what else could I expect? That said, I was actually impressed by how well she took it, still as determined and hopeful to raise a good person, no matter alone or not. As she turned off the lights at 10pm, the timing imposed by her landlord, we continued talking in the comfort of her bed.

(She whispered) ‘Thank you for listening. It has been difficult for me to trust anyone since he left, and none of my friends wanted anything to do with me. You are really selfless and unbiased like you’ve said.’

‘This is all I can do for you. Besides money I don’t have, a listening ear isn’t too expensive.’


She leaned onto me for a kiss on my cheeks and held me there for a moment longer, a move I completely understood and glad to offer. Absence of any ill intentions, I didn’t think of much when she turned my face towards her, illuminating her smooth, dry complexion I found myself staring at.

At that moment, our lips touched and it felt incredibly satisfying. Not in a sexual way, but of how familiar that sensation was to donating blood. ‘An act of kindness’, was what that is.

Her lips soon parted to involve her tongue, which I was hesitant to respond knowing where it may lead us, or me to (worst case being the father?). The receptive mother sensed my worry within seconds, and paused with my cheeks in her palms.

(She whispered) ‘Don’t worry. I’m not trying to make you the father of my baby. I don’t know enough about you yet.’

As gently as she could, she placed me on the bed and laid next to me, lying on my chest while caressing my chest. Before I realised, she had one hand under my shirt, at my belly where the main opening of my shorts were.

A quick pinch of her fingers freed my stomach-restraining button, and her hand slipped right into my underwear.

(She asked) ‘You’re not turned on?’

‘It’s not that easy after learning about your history.’

(She whispered sensually into my ear) ‘Just think of me as a preggy. You haven’t tried a pregnant girl before have you?’

‘No.. ‘

Slowly, my cock filled itself up (with blood) as she cranked my zipper down, taking a few seconds to position my arm across her baby bump. Between her legs, I felt her drenched pussy, easily slurping to my explorative fingers. The hand she had over my dick, had already begun jerking me off.

‘Are you comfortable?’

(She whispered) ‘Very. But will be more if this.. is inside me.. ‘

I remained motionless for the next few minutes as she came once, before getting up to fetch something. A distinct tear of a condom came in the darkness and the cold rubber was skilfully rolled over my erection.

‘Better now?’

‘Yes.. ‘

I made way for her to lie flat on the bed while I held myself up over her body, rubberised cock sliding so conveniently into her pussy. To be honest, I had no expection of how ‘tight’ she was, but that certainly was something to worry about when I went into her.

‘You have to sit up and move. Or it will.. ‘

‘I understand.’

A smile from her lightened the mood, and I got to fucking her in the most comfortable position I’ve ever had. Thrusting just my hips, the sturdy bed didn’t so much let off a squeak. It was just pleasant to see her moaning, and climaxing over and over again without much effort.

According to her, she was sensitive as hell during this pregnancy term, and that definitely showed through the times I had to ‘stop’.

‘Let’s finish you in doggie. That’s the only other safe position for me.’

We arranged the bolster and pillow to support her bulge, and resumed the preggy-sex without much problem. Ramming my stiff cock into that small waisted, huge bellied, slender frame girl got me so distracted, that I lasted a tad too long for her mental health.

Climaxing at least another two times in this position, it was the third time she asked if I was cumming. Not wanting to wear her out anymore, I pushed her thighs together and did her as fast, but subtly as I could.

Within a minute, I was groaning desperately on my way to orgasm. As our bodies jerked to my tempo, she tried to stabilise herself by holding very still.

(As she moaned) ‘Can I.. ask you not to.. cum in the condom?’

‘Of course!’

I froze right there and showed myself out, to which she patted twice on an empty space (on the bed) for me to sit. Unsure of what she had in mind, I laid horizontal to the bed, neck obstructed by the wall, legs dangling over the longer sides.

Cynthia, as she was called, laid sideway near my thigh and proceeded to suck me off. Without the rubber, I could feel my member growing bigger in her mouth, which she savoured so lusciously. As she picked up her pace, I found myself at the ‘edge’ sooner than any other girl’s who have done this for me.

(I whispered breathlessly) ‘I think I’m going to cum. Keep going.’

‘Close your eyes.’

At my last moments, I gave in to her request and shut my eyes, feeling her warm mouth leave my cock in place of her hand which kept stroking. Another few seconds later, a hot, tight hole came over my cock and a horrific sight of her riding me in cowgirl greeted me. How could I have felt her movements when I was so caught up fidgeting in bed (when I was about to cum) right?

Her hips rocked so fast and hard at my groin for the last minute I tried to push her away, resulting in the most explosive cum shot into her occupied pussy. Still unsatisfied with her ‘objective’, her intentional (vaginal) squeezing of my shaft forced everything out of me.

Worn out both mentally and physically, I did not shy away from the kisses she gave on my chest, to my lips. She dismounted a while later and took great care to clean me up, first with her mouth, then wet wipes.

By the time I was dressed, it was almost midnight.

(She asked) ‘Can I still call you if I need help?’

‘I wouldn’t leave you in the lurch.’

‘Let me walk you down.’

In any case, I guess I still have the upper hand since she doesn’t know where I lived exactly, but it didn’t take me long to develop something, for the girl who called me almost every night for ‘help’.

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