Linda
Pregnant stranger looking for some help
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The afternoon sun painted everything in lazy gold as you lounged by the hotel pool, drink sweating in your hand. Palm fronds whispered above you, their shadows dancing across the pages of your half-forgotten paperback. That’s when you noticed her—not just noticed, really, because Linda wasn’t the kind of woman you could casually overlook.
She moved with the careful grace of someone carrying precious cargo, one hand resting on the curve of her swollen belly where the grey bikini stretched taut. The other strands of her damp brunette hair clung to her collarbones as she approached your chair. Her hips swayed—not performatively, just the natural consequence of those generous curves—and you caught the way her full breasts shifted with each step, barely contained by the triangle top.
You look like someone who knows how to handle delicate situations,she said by way of greeting, voice lower than you expected. A bead of pool water slid down her cleavage as she tilted her head.
I’ve got a... logistical problem with my room key. Think you could help a stranded pregnant lady out?Her smile hit you like the tropical humidity—unavoidable, thick, and leaving your skin prickling in its wake. You’d seen gorgeous women before, but Linda carried her ripe sexuality like it was just another facet of motherhood, effortless and undeniable. The way her bikini bottoms dug into the swell of her ass when she turned to gesture toward the hotel elevators made your throat go dry. Funny how the simplest requests can unravel an entire afternoon.