So he does everything.
Whatever he wants to do. Bite, suck, fuck, love.
Some nights he makes me come — once, twice, three times — with his mouth between my legs and his large hand covering my swollen belly. As if to make sure that our baby is safe and sleeping while at the same time reveling in the fact that he did this to me.
That my body is his wonderland, his playground, and he’s changed the landscape of my bones and muscles.
When he touches me like this, I don’t feel fat. I don’t feel ungainly and awkward.
I feel beautiful.
He makes me feel beautiful with his hand on my belly.
After he’s satisfied, when he’s finally had his fill of my pussy, he emerges from between my legs, all naked and glowing, my juices running down his chin, his stubbly throat, his muscular chest.
He settles himself between my spread and languid thighs before giving me what I crave the most.
His cock.
He enters me in one easy stroke and why wouldn’t he? He’s made my pussy all wet, pounded it with his tongue, trashed it with his mouth so much that she opens herself to him easily now.
Like a flower. A daisy.
He pounds her with his big cock, beats her up, looms over me, his beautiful muscles tightened and standing up. His face is doused in lust, his wet-with-my-juices lips pulled back and his teeth showing and snapping like he’s really an animal.
Part human, part wolf.
I’ve always thought that, and it has never been clearer than when he’s fucking me like this.
All beautifully and tenderly and savagely.
Lovingly.
And I come.
I come so easily these days. So viciously and violently.
It’s like as soon as he touches my pussy, I don’t stop coming and he takes advantage of that. He keeps fucking me, he keeps making my pussy come as it flutters and ripples around his rod.
And then it’s his turn.
To come, I mean.
Some nights he fills up my pussy so that I flow with him. So that I feel him leaking out of me as I toss and turn in the bed, as I go to school the next day and sit in class with sticky, wet panties.
But some nights he likes to come on my body.
On my tits that he loves so much.
Or my swollen belly.
God, he loves my swollen belly. He’s always touching it, rubbing it. And he likes to come on it too.
He likes to kneel over my prone, satisfied body, all sweaty and panting, and jerk his cock until he lashes his cum on my belly, the muscles of his abdomen straining, his biceps flexing.
When he’s done, I rub it all over my skin like his cum is one of those rare body oils that I love so much and he watches me with hooded, villainous eyes.
His pregnant, captured fairy rubbing his scent all over her skin.
