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This is a story about my wife and me. I’ll try to tell it as it happened, but since 13 or so years have passed since our first meeting, some of the memories have probably gotten better with age.

It all started with a chili-eating contest at a local bar… You know, one of those silly things that one does on a dare. Your friends saying, “sure sign up, I’ll be there to help cheer you on.” Bull! It was just me, 2 beers, a quart of chili, and about 15 other contestants.

I won’t go into all of the gory details about the contest. The winner did it in a minute and thirty three seconds, and then threw up on the guy standing next to him. I did it in about 33 minutes.

Winning second place, was ok, I guess. The photographer was taking pictures of me and the winner for some newsletter, and he kept saying one more, one more. I looked at the winner, and he looked at me… We both turned around and dropped trou for the camera. He wanted to see a smile. How about a vertical one?

Time to pick up the beer cooler, and the six-pack of long necks, and head home. Another chapter in life is closed. Or so I thought.

A couple of weeks later I’m sitting at the bar of the local watering hole, nursing a beer. Checking out the ladies in the mirror that runs the length of the bar, I see one a few stools down that keeps looking at me (or at least I think she is looking at me), and then talking to her friend sitting next to her. I happen to glance over and see a stack of papers on her lap. Recognizing them as the newsletter from the beer distributor that sponsored the chili eating contest, I ask her “Is that the new SilverBird?” She says no, and then a look of surprise comes across her face. She then says “I know who you are, I’ve seen your picture before. Both FRONT and REAR!”

Now I’m trying to think fast. Where had she seen my picture before? Especially from the rear. She then tells me that she works for the PR firm that handles the SilverBird account. And that the photographer had brought in the proof sheets from the contest. She said that she had a good time looking at those tiny little pictures. A bit more interesting than the ones the photographer usually brings in.

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The turbulent storm was raging outside, just as it had been almost all day. The humidity and the pounding of the rain were making me sleepy and tired. Just plain old groggy. I decided to retire to my bedroom for a nap until the showers had ended. I was too weary to continue working on the business project that was before me. I had, for sometime, been in a self evaluation period, and I no longer felt like I knew who I was. Somewhere something had gotten lost.

I retreated to my bedroom as the thunder roared. It was illuminated only by the misty haze that hung in the spring air. I slipped out of my sweats and went across the room to toss them into the hamper. I began to re-trace my steps, as I caught my image in my mirror. I stopped, looking curiously for a moment. The hazy light made my fair skin seem luxurious. My blonde hair, pulled up, had taken on an ash tone, and my oval face was highlighted by my full blush lips and deep grey eyes.

I raised my hand to my face and traced the soft lines of my cheekbones, my eyes closed as I began caressing my flesh. I looked down at my breasts, through the mirror, full and round, they stood suspended by the bra that held them. I moved my hands to release them from the contraption that embodied them. My nipples became erect and took on a sudden glow.

I began to feel my sexuality as the sweet fragrance of my own flesh rose and hung in the heavy air. As I closed my eyes, I saw my delicate body and envisioned it wrapped lightly in silk. I placed the palms of my hands on my nipples, and began circular motions as I felt the imaginary fabric caressing them to their full alertness. I gazed again into the mirror, as I guided a hand to my panties, I felt the texture of the satin ribbon daintily tied in bows against my hips.

I tugged gently at the ribbon until the bow came untied, the corner of the panty fell down exposing the skin just to the side of my vagina. My stare into the mirror had become fixed as I stroked the skin with my littlest finger. I watched myself convince my other hand to render the other bow unsecured, allowing the light panties to drop to the floor beneath me.

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Augusta is a JAP (jewish American Princess) by definition only. She is Jewish and very spoiled, yet she has strikingly blonde hair and soft facial features. She is very petite with small hands and very tiny feet. Five foot tall with a proportional figure that fits her height and well-shaped breasts which are small yet round and firm. She is also very pregnant. Her husband is off on another of his so-called business trips leaving her to fend for herself this last month before the baby is expected.

I dropped by one Saturday afternoon to check to see how she was doing and I must admit I found out.

“Hi there, what brings you here?”

“I came over to see if you were alright.”

“Fat, tired and sore, but other than that I’m okay.”

“You’re about ready to have the baby aren’t you?”

“Yep, next month, and if he don’t come out I am going to have a fit.”

“How do you know it’s going to be a he?”

“Oh I don’t know.”

“Maybe it’ll be a she and she be as beautiful as her mother.”

“Well right now I don’t feel so pretty, I feel fat and my sides hurt. It hurts when I sit or lay down and it definitely hurts for me to walk.”

“Here this will help.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to massage your sides. They hurt because you aren’t quite used to carrying all that weight around and it makes your muscles sore and this will make them feel better.”

“Oh God! that does feels good. Where did you learn that?”

“I do have a few kids you know.”

“Yes and I’m sorry you and Toni split up. Do you see the kids at all?”

“No, she has them in Ohio,” I said massaging her sides.

She fell silent to enjoy the massage I guess. I stood behind her chair with my hands rubbing her sides. Standing there looking down at her I could see her breasts through the loose open-necked maternity top that she had on. I reached around cupping one small breast in each hand.

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