I am heavy with child. My breasts are swollen with milk, my abdomen fully distended. I slump on the wicker chair feeling my baby prod my stomach. My man marvels at how I push myself to the utter limits of my endurance to birth my miracle. Sure, he treasures me, and cherishes me, every single pounding heartbeat and sublime kiss. He lays his head in my lap like a child, acting all shy on me. I ask him if we can go upstairs - and fuck.
We find our way upstairs to a pink bedroom with a wedding cake bed bristling with nests of soft cuddly toys, a snow-white cot, a mottled rocking horse with a dun mane. Oh, and the cradle, all bedecked in pink. As soon as I fell pregnant, I instinctively knew my baby would be a girl. You see we do enjoy this perfect love, a love that's all-consuming, unselfish, respectful. I am happy at last. He is all I want in a man: passionate, caring, considerate.
My eyes mist with tears. I take his hand and wrap my fingers tightly round his palm, and hold him to my swollen belly. I'm enormous. The skin on my bulge is stretched. A brown line runs the full length of my belly from my protruding navel to the swathe of teak hair which sprouts profusely, hiding my kissing folds. Proudly, I rub his fingers over the round of my belly so he can feel baby kicking inside me.
My belly and breasts are covered in dark chocolate moles exaggerated by my pregnancy. He sucks them, kisses them, licks them, and tastes them. He makes me feel good inside. My man beams with pride as he feels the baby reach for its father. Its tiny fists pummel the lining of my womb, wanting to touch the man who seeded me with all of his sperm.
I lightly stroke the hair on the back of his hand, seeking his intimacy. Exhausted, I close my eyes, savouring the smell of his skin as he moves in closer to me. I feel his dry lips kissing my eyes, the subtle brush of his mouth over my pursed lips. His hot breath on my face. His tickle, the tip of his tongue, licking my neck.
I stir, feeling a delicious tingle teasing my lubricious cleft, a glorious hardening of my little bead I haven't felt for ages. His tongue leaves a moist line of saliva down my chest, licking the salt from the moist fjord that separates my heaving breasts. I become aroused, pushing his hand inside my panties, guiding his fingers through my matted hair, parting my folds, feeling my wet love-hole. I feel his leg slide up my thigh, alarmed by my daring, knowing how eagerly I might gratify myself through his tender touch.
He thrills for me, brushing the shock of hair off my face, kissing me fully on the lips. I feel his eager tongue probing my wet mouth. His tip tickles the back of my throat. He rubs my splayed cunt. I gasp. I struggle to control the thrill of my arousal. I plead for him to strip for me: naked, nude, bare, warm, vulnerable, wanting him so badly. Mmmn!
I admire his muscular physique, his hairy chest, as he unbuttons his shirt. His pert bum, wiggling when he drops his pants. His rigid, turgid, rearing, cock which crows so proudly for me. Wearing just my flimsy thin negligee over my padded nursing bra and briefs, I plead with him dizzied by my rampant lust.
'Think we should fuck on the bed now, baby, don't you?'
Stretched with erect torsion he hobbles over to my tidy bed and settles at the centre, watching me expectantly as I slip the cutting bra straps off my shoulders, uncupping each heavy breast, leaving my bra hanging loosely to tease him.
I push one of my swollen breasts up to my mouth for him, tickling my complected nipple naughtily with the tender tip of my tongue, tasting my own milk. I fight to contain himself. My sensuality, the sweet taste of my milky colostrum, goes to my head.
'Suck my teats! Suck my teats!' I plead.
I hold him to my breast and suckle him like a baby.
'Like sucking my teats, don't you? Let me be your cow.'
He sucks my udders as if he's my calf, draining my breasts of my warm milk, satiating his lustful mammalian fetish.
