It Just Gets Dirtier

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This story is a follow up to the well-received The Dirtiest Experience Yet! I hope it lives up to its predecessor and that you enjoy it.


After the events described in The Dirtiest Experience Yet published here on Literotica, Amanda and I enjoyed a couple of filthy sequels (not yet described) before losing contact with each other. She didn’t text unless I initiated it and I was getting tired of chasing her. To me, I felt that we had reached the peak of our sexual exploration. The odd time we did get together didn’t match the adrenalin-fuel escapades of our first few meetings.

I was at the pub one Saturday about eight months later watching the cricket and browsing the online dating “matches”. The punters were doing their dough at the Caulfield races, and the English batsmen were struggling against the Australian blowing attack in the fifth Ashes test at the Sydney Cricket Ground. The Melbourne sun was bright and hot, but the beer was keeping the situation nicely under control. Out of the blue, I received a text message from a number I didn’t recognise. It only read, “Hi”.

I looked at the message with some confusion, trying to determine who it came from, wrong number or a spammer most like. Initially, I ignored the message, but the temptation to reply and unravel the mystery proved irresistible, more so as the beer worked its magic.

“How are you?” I tapped out.

Then radio silence for several hours.

Frustrating yes because I was hoping that it might be an old flame that might be local and who wanted a hook-up, preferably today. It’d been a dry patch for me lately. My paid membership with the online dating site had expired, and funds were a little tight preventing me from renewing. I could still access the website and contact women through the chat function between the hours of 5pm and 8pm, but that’s when the ratio of men to women exceeds ten to one. On the physical side, there wasn’t much to choose from at my local pub, 30 metres from my house which I was there every day, or from the bar at the racecourse across the road. My friends were all cosied up, so there were few opportunities to go pack hunting further afield, like The Sandbelt Hotel, for example.

Woe was me.

Anyway, the action on the cricket oval was proving a useful distraction, and as the day advanced, there was an increasing number of beauties flitting in and out of the establishment, usually on the arm of some bloke, to brighten the surroundings. So, the unexpected text message was quickly forgotten about.

Later on at home, I was watching a movie and working my way through a bottle of passable Merlot, when the lights of my phone suddenly sprang into life. It was the mystery messenger.

“Good and you?”

I was sorely tempted to ask the identity of this person. However, if it was someone I knew but whose name I had accidentally (or deliberately) erased, then offence might be taken. I decided to continue this anonymous conversation, hoping that the back and forth would reveal who was at the other end.

“Yeah not too bad. Bit tired.”


No reason, really. It hadn’t been a particularly tiring day, but I didn’t really know what to say to my anonymous correspondent.

And then sensing my hesitation, “Not disturbing you?”

“No. Just watching a movie and sipping on a bottle of red.”

“You have company?”

“On my own tonight,” I added a frowning emoji for emphasis.


“What are you up to?”

“Chillaxing.” No one in my group of friends uses such stupid language, but it really didn’t help me narrow it down.

“Having a good evening?”

“Not to [sic] bad ty” So, I was conversing with someone younger and less educated than me, but this conversation was going nowhere fast.

“Cool.” I wondered whether this was a thoughtful conversation in as much as we previously knew each other and lost contact or whether the person at the other end expected me to know who they were (and I had forgotten).

“What have you been up to?” Came the next question.

“Today or in general?” I asked, genuinely struggling now.

“Both” My eyes rolled in the back of my head.

“Went for a swim today followed by beers at the pub and watching the cricket.”

“On your own [sic]”

“Yep, why do you ask?”

“No reason just wondering [sic]”

“And why were you wondering?” My patience was getting more of a workout than my body did in the pool.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Ok, by now I was guessing it was an old flame or someone from online dating.

“Nope. You?”

“No…well kinda [sic]”

“Which is it? Lol”

“It’s sort of complicated.”


“Just is. I was wondering if you wanted to meet up?”

“Won’t your partner or boyfriend, whatever, object?”

“He won’t know.” Now, I was intrigued.

“Ok. When and where?”

“Are you free tomorrow after lunch?”

“Yep, I can be.”

“Can we meet at the gardens again?”

It was Amanda from online dating. The 23-year-old konya escort fuck puppet (probably 24 now) with a thirst for golden showers and who took cock in her arse like a rat scales a drainpipe. My cock jumped to attention with the realisation. Had she qualified her first test message with “Hi, mister” at the very beginning then I would have known immediately that it was Amanda as she was the only person, ever, to address me as such.

“Usual spot, say 1pm?” I asked with anticipation.

“Sure lol.”

“Happy to meet then, Amanda.”


Then there was more radio silence for the rest of the night.

Next day I should have been like a cat on a hot tin roof with anticipation. My sexual drought was about to end, or so I thought. Upon grooming myself to within an inch of my life, I threw on some clothes that would be appropriate for the hot outdoor weather, grabbed a six-pack of beer in a cooler bag and commenced the short trip on foot to the oval.

As I approached the entrance, I noticed a large number of cars parked in the bays and several more parked on the verge. This signalled the presence of a considerable amount of people, meaning the chances of sex in the public toilet facility were not looking good. My fears were confirmed seconds later when I entered the grounds. There was a cricket match in progress and families were swarming all over the place: kids in the playground, adults on the park benches and people crowding the BBQs. I also noticed a steady stream of people going to and from the toilet block. Well, that’s that then, I said inwardly. Still, sex wasn’t everything as I continued towards the occupied table closest to the toilets that represented the usual spot.

I couldn’t see her among the family enjoying their picnic lunch, but then I received a text. It was from Amanda and read, “Look to your right, by the tree”.

I did as instructed, and saw a figure sat underneath a tree that was nestled on a rise of land just up from the children’s playground. She threw me a wave. As I made my way towards her, I watched her get up from the grass with some difficulty. As I approached her, I suddenly understood why it was difficult to get up.

Amanda was pregnant!

Not just pregnant but very pregnant!

She saw the look of shock on my face and laughed.

“Wow, look at you,” I stammered, not knowing what to say, “you’re looking radiant!”

I imagined my insincerity was obvious. All hope of dirty sex evaporated before my eyes.

Amanda leaned in for a hug, but this significant bump seemed that keep us apart. I did my best to accommodate and, after a fashion, we managed to kiss each other’s cheek.

“Do you want to sit back down again?” I asked.

“Sure, can you help?” I complied and wondered how she sat down earlier while waiting for me. I sat down beside her but not too close. The shade of the tree provided much-needed shade from the summer sun.

I opened my cooler bag and removed a can of beer, “I guess you won’t be having one of these?”

“I could murder one, but no, I can’t.” She answered with a tinge of regret. Amanda did produce a bottle of water from her bag and took a sip. I cracked my beer and took an enormous gulp. At least these six will help me deal with the regret.

“So, how far along are you?” I asked, struggling for small talk.

“Between six and seven months.”

“Wow, how’s it going for you?”

“So, so. It’s getting harder to do some basic tasks like sitting on the grass.” We both laughed, but there wasn’t much enthusiasm on my part.

We gazed out across the oval in silence. Aside from the families using the BBQ facilities to cook up what smelled like some great food, there were a reasonable number of patrons there to watch the match. It must have been some vital league game for the crowd cheered enthusiastically whenever a player did something deserving. The scene before us was in stark contrast to the first time Amanda and I met at the oval. Not a soul in sight and storm of biblical proportions enabled us to get up to some filthy antics in the disabled toilet.

“How did you get to be ‘six or seven months’ pregnant?” I asked after a pause.

Amanda looked over at me and chuckled.

“Online dating.” She replied simply.

“Do tell.”

“How much do you want to know?” Amanda asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Every filthy detail.”

We both laughed.

“Well, after you went silent,” She started, by blaming me, “I went on a date with this guy who’s a bit closer to my age. He’s nothing like you, nowhere near as experienced.”


“Well, we went on dates and had sex. Unprotected sex and, well, here we are.”

“Still together?”

“Yes, we’re about to move in together.”

Holy shit, really?

“Ever since I told him I was pregnant, he’s been acting like the perfect boyfriend and future father. Fussing over me at every moment. It’s quite sweet.” She trailed away, indicating all was not blissful in paradise.

“What’s he do konyaaltı escort for a living?”

“Apprentice mechanic.”

“Are you still at the café?”

“For now. I expect to go on maternity leave next month.”

“Are you excited about having a baby?”

Amanda blushed at my question.

“I am actually, and I’m excited that Kieran and I are moving in. He’s really matured over the last few months, too mature actually.”

Kieran, really?

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, for one thing, the sex with him is very vanilla, and now he won’t go near me for fear of hurting the baby.”

“Why is he vanilla?”

Amanda looked at me and snorted in jest.

“He’s very quick on the draw, and he only knows a handful of positions.” She replied with obvious disappointment, “Well three, actually, but we don’t often get chance to do all three before he comes.”

I worked with this guy a few years ago who had the same issue. Over and done in less than ten minutes, and he boasted about it! I think the only time I was quick on the draw was one time as a late teenager when this woman I was with – had just met actually – teased me for hours and then gave me a hand job. I was so turned on that I expired in minutes. That example was the exception to the rule. During our first encounter in this very park, Amanda and I fucked for hours, and I only came once.

“Does he make you come?” I asked, attempting to draw out the juicy details.

“Once or twice.” She replied, “Mostly, I play with myself in front of him to try and get him hard again, but he falls asleep on me.”

“Then you finish yourself off?”

Amanda blushed before admitted that she did.

“Must be frustrating for you?”


“How quickly did he get you pregnant?”

“Before the month was out.” Came a reply that astonished me.

“Fuck!” I exclaimed, “Oops, sorry, I didn’t mean to swear, but yes, that is quick.”

“I know. I couldn’t believe it either, but I haven’t had a period since May last year.”

“Given his lack of experience, how did he manage it?”

“Well,” Amanda began as if to betray a confidence, “he’s got massive balls!”


“Yeah, they’re fucking huge!” She said, in wonderment to match my own, “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Big cock as well then?”

“Not really, about the same as yours.” Came a flirty giggle.

“I bet that looks odd?”

Amanda turned to look at me and enthusiastically nodded her head.

“The thing is,” She continued, “these big balls produce massive cum loads.”

I bet they do.

“When we first met, I would blow him, and his semen just filled my mouth, but I couldn’t swallow it fast enough!”

That would have been a feast for the eyes.

“He would come and come and come. There just too much of it that I had to spit it out all over me. In the end, I couldn’t stand blowing him any longer, so I made him unleash inside of me.”

And that’s how Amanda became pregnant. I felt sorry that that poor solitary egg travelling down the uterus being bombarded by a tsunami of glutinous sperm vying for a seat at the table.

“Thing is,” Amanda continued, “I love swallowing cum, but he’s too much for me!”

That’s not the only thing you like swallowing.

“So now you’re pregnant, and you’re not getting sex?”

“That’s the predicament I find myself in.” She answered with a degree of resignation.

“So why am I here?” I asked with evident curiosity.

“I wanted to see you again.” She replied, “I’ve missed you, and I suppose, you’re someone to talk to.”

I suspected there might be more to our meeting than Amanda complaining about her crap boyfriend.

“So, do you love him?” I asked, probing to see where our meeting might lead.

She thought for a moment before answering with a definitive no but added that Kieran was sweet and appeared to be taking his upcoming fatherly responsibilities seriously. Like many young mothers-to-be, the thought of parenting alone with only the government safety net to keep one off the breadline must be a terrifying prospect. The fact that Kieran was making an effort would provide Amanda with a measure of security and give the baby a fighting chance at life. Most admirable, I thought.

I suspected, it was Kieran’s many faults, particularly his dud bedroom skills, that lead to Amanda’s disappointment. After all, her appetite went well beyond a few minutes of a single position, pussy fucking before expiring exhausted and unable to perform again. Our sexual meetings ran the full spectrum of filth, including spit-lubed anal sex and golden showers, both giving and receiving. Our sessions went on and on until neither of us could take it anymore. When we left each other’s fluid-stained embrace, we were both satiated. I wondered whether Amanda requested this meeting to see if I would relieve some of her frustrations.

“Kieran is planning to have a house for us to move into sometime konyaaltı eve gelen escort around the baby’s birth so that gives me up to two months left…” blurted Amanda breaking my internal monologue. I didn’t initially register the hint that she was signalling to me, so I didn’t respond.

“Once I give birth, I’ll have to devote every moment to raising my child.” continued Amanda, sensing my ignorance, “There’ll be no time for any fun.”

All she was saying went straight over my head.

“Well,” Said my plodding brain, “you’d better make the most of it.”

“I intend to, and that’s why we’re here.”

The penny finally dropped!

“Oh,” I said with the dawning realisation, and our faces turned and met each other, “Oh!”

Amanda giggled lightly.

“You want a last taste of what we enjoyed before you?”

“Fuck yeah!” Came an excited reply.

“What about your bloke?”

“What about him? He doesn’t need to know and, besides, he’s too busy trying to be the father of the year.”

Still, cheating is cheating.

“Oh, don’t be such a pussy!” Replied a faux-angry Amanda.

“Believe me, I’m not because I’m comfortable if you are.”

Truth be told, I’ve never played with a pregnant girl before and certainly not one with Amanda’s sexual appetite. This quirk of fate elicited a response from my dormant cock.

“So, I think that Kieran’s not into anal sex?”

Amanda laughed, “No. I asked him to do me up to the butt, but he pulled this funny face and said something like anal was weird and for poofs.”

Wow, he was inexperienced.

“I suppose pissy sex was out of the question?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“I didn’t bother asking.” She laughed, “Thing is, I might be pregnant, but I still crave sex even if it is with Kieran, but he’s lost interest being totally consumed with his delusions of fatherhood.”

“Maybe his sex drive isn’t as high as yours?”

“Well, of course it isn’t.” Replied an indignant Amanda, “I even tried incorporating sex into birth preparation, but he shied away.”

“Sex and birth preparation?” I asked, somewhat bemused.

“Yes. I was on the internet looking at porn to get me off one night and came across this clip in a foreign language that had a guy put his whole hand up the pussy of a pregnant woman.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, unsure where this was going.

“Yeah!” Replied a suddenly animated Amanda, “It didn’t seem to hurt her, and after a few minutes, she pissed or squired over the man.”

“You’re pretty good at that last bit.”

“I fucking miss it.” She said, “Anyway, I did some Googling and discovered that fisting can be beneficial during labour as the vagina has been stretched, or trained, to be more elastic which reduces the pain felt during childbirth.”

“Really?” I asked with some scepticism.

“Oh yeah!” Came Amanda’s enthusiastic response, “It’s well documented on medical websites.”

Huh, what medical websites?

She might be 24 years old, but Amanda was still, or appeared, naïve. Or maybe it was me that failed to understand the opportunity being presented?

“I started searching for safe sex during pregnancy and fisting was always on the list. I suggested it to Kieran, but he refused.”

“Oh.” I said, “Maybe he’s concerned for the baby’s safety? I mean if two-minute fucking is taboo, then fisting your pussy isn’t going to change his mind.”

“I know, but I found myself getting off on fisting porn, particularly pregnant fisting porn!”

Then what? I was becoming harder with every sentence that came out of Amanda’s mouth.

“I watched pregnant women do anal, gangbangs and drink piss. Then I thought of you and figured that you might be up for it?”

There, after nearly an hour of the meeting, she finally came to the point.

“What do you want from me?” I asked.

Amanda turned to me, placed a hand on my shoulder and pushed me down into the grass. Her face came up with mine, and I thought she was about to kiss me before she whispered, “For the next two months, I want you to treat like a whore again like I was once for you.”

Our lips met with such delicacy before she remembered how well we used to kiss and then Amanda became more passionate. I was raging with hardness by this point. Seconds later, Amanda broke the kiss in obvious discomfort due to her altered body state and then said to me, “I want you to fuck me, piss on me, use my arse for your pleasure and fill up any one of my holes with your delicious semen. Most of all, I want you to prepare me for childbirth by fisting my slutty cunt!”

Holy shit, that was a helluva shopping list!

All of Amanda’s sexually frustration came tumbling out in an expletive tirade that, if not the general public being numerous and near, would have resulted in my whipping my chopper out. Instead, I raised myself up on my elbows and kissed her lips.

“We can’t do any of that here,” I said, surveying the scene. In fact, space was such a premium for this cricket match that spectators had gradually begun encroaching closer to our location. This fact was not lost upon Amanda, whose face was etched with frustration.

She turned to me and placed a hand on my rock-hard cock, squeezing the meat through the material of my shorts. I hissed in pleasure and pain.

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