Several weeks later, Kirsty stood naked in front of the mirror, examining herself. For years, she had wanted a flat stomach – achieving it by spending countless hours doing sit-ups – and now that flat ‘ideal’ had gone, replaced by a slight curve: the gentlest of contours, but a contour nonetheless. And she didn’t care. In fact, she felt wonderful. Her hair was shiny, her breasts had swollen and her nipples had darkened. She was amazed by them, thought she looked like a Page Three girl. Jamie was amazed by them too, predictably. She had always thought it was a cliché, that pregnant women glowed. But she felt it, in her skin, deep in her flesh. Apart from the occasional bout of sickness, she loved being pregnant. I’m radiant, she thought, giggling to herself.

Jamie came into the room and stood behind her, put his arms round her, resting his hands on her belly.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he said.

They kissed gently, moving towards the bed. Jamie sat down on the edge and Kirsty leant towards him, her tongue touching his, her fingers unbuttoning his shirt. Some women craved bizarre combinations of food when they were pregnant. Right now, she craved this. She threw Jamie’s shirt aside and he lifted himself up so she could pull down his jeans and boxers. She curled her fingers around his penis, making his breathing become deeper.

‘Lie back,’ she said.

He pushed himself backwards onto the bed and lay down. She leant over him, her soft hair tickling the skin of his chest and stomach. She took the tip of his penis between her lips, ran her tongue over the head. He said her name. She removed it from her mouth and moved up to kiss him on the lips, so he could taste himself. They kissed deeply. He tried to pull her down, but she put her hands on his chest and held him there, flat on the bed.

She positioned herself over him and took his penis in her hand, holding it so she could lower herself onto it, slowly, so it sank into her millimetre by millimetre, until he was fully inside her.

‘Kirsty.’

She moved so, so slowly, her eyes closed. He gently stroked her belly, her large breasts, feeling the novel weight of them in his hands. She licked the tip of her middle finger and put her hand down behind her, between his thighs, sliding the tip of her finger into his anus.

‘Oh Christ.’

He tried to wriggle, but she pushed down on his chest with her free hand, pinning him down. She stretched out her finger and slid it in as far as she could reach.

‘Kirsty.’

He came, shouting as he did so.

She withdrew her finger, leaned forward, kissed him and rolled onto her back. He went to kiss her lips again but she pushed his head down over her belly and towards her thighs, down between her legs.