He arches his entire body over her now, he's up on his knees, not leaning his body on hers, no, he wants to see her, and he locks his mouth on hers again and fuck, he's kissing his goddamn wife. He wants to lick out the inside of her fucking throat. And then he puts his finger in her pussy, just like that, and it's as warm and wet as melted honey. He nearly comes right then. But he pulls away from her and takes a deep breath. On his knees now he grabs his dick hard and pushes at it. Down boy. Not yet. Breathe in, breathe out. Oh, man. Her skinny legs are splayed out from the bowl of her small hips, and in the dark he can just make out her glistening pudenda. Jesus. He can't look at it. He looks away. If he puts his dick in there now, he'll just come right away and that is not what he wants to do. But what else can he do now? He could eat her pussy, but he doesn't really want to. It's about his dick tonight, about the effect this bitch that is his wife is having on his dick. He could get back on those tits, but he'll probably fucking come right away doing that, too. So what he does is turn her over and there's her ass, which he loves, he loves his wife's ass. But it's calming him a bit, he loves it but it's familiar, not strange and new like those breasts and it's not her fucking wet pussy staring at him either, and he feels calm. But oh God, she's lifting it up at him and there's no hiding from what's underneath it. And so he leans over her to not look, and, anyway, his dick has been safely calmed, it's still hard as rock, but not as near to bursting, and he rubs it on her like a cat in heat and then she's rubbing her ass back at him, her ass is asking him to stick it in her, which he does sticks it into her like a knife in butter and he leans over her and takes each one of those breasts in his hands. And then he grabs both breasts in one hand, smashing them together hard, and she lets out a short cry, and with his free hand he grabs her head and twists it around, back toward him, so that he can shove his tongue down her mouth again. Damn. Damn.
Oh, if his wife were always pregnant! Oh, if his wife were always four months, five months, even six months pregnant! Not one or two or three! And not seven or eight or nine! But that middle time, this middle time, how he loves her, how he can't believe it's her, how ripe she is, how womanly, how soft and precious and giving and forgiving she is! Oh, if she could only stay this fleshy, this wet, this ready. If only she were always in a dark room, if only her breasts were always like this in a dark room. Then, then his life would be perfect. His wife, locked away in a dark room, a room which only he had the key to, permanently four months pregnant.
This whole putting things off is not working. Or, rather, it is working and Dick has changed his mind. He turns her over again, and his wife's breasts flop around in a good way, move like Jello, loose and real, and there are her hip bones, her splayed legs, and he gently thumbs her clit but she pushes his hand off of her pussy and arches up to him, her own hands on her tits, moaning and he grips her hips and thrusts in there deep and he's just gonna come. It's just gonna happen. Her head is twisted to the side and her own hands smash her breasts together they touch! They're so big they touch each other! and he thrusts again but he's going to come and he can come inside her if he wants, she's already pregnant, it's not going to make her more pregnant, and he loves everything about this, the no condom, the no cervical cap which he used to bang up against, the no smelly spermicidal jelly, just the thick, tangy smell of his dick in her pussy and he can come inside of her if he wants. But he wants to come on her face is what he wants and he hopes she's up for it, and really he knows she is because that's why he married her. Not because he needed someone to cook him dinner, not because he wanted her to raise his kids, mop his floors and put his underwear in the dresser drawer. No, he married her because she's the kind of woman who likes to pretend she's a porn star. He wants to lift his dick out and hold it over those breasts and that's exactly what he does, his knees up near her armpits now and one hand is on his pulsing cock, and the other is grasping her round, fleshy breasts together, and he shoots out come all over her tussled, beautiful face, and her round, round breasts, banging his cock against one nipple, then her chin, tap, tap, tap, knocking out every last drop of himself onto her, his wife. And Dick is, in no small way, the happiest man on earth.
Not yet. Breathe in, breathe out. Oh, man. Her skinny legs are splayed out from the bowl of her small hips, and in the dark he can just make out her glistening pudenda. Jesus. He can't look at it. He looks away. If he puts his dick in there now, he'll just come right away and that is not what he wants to do. But what else can he do now? He could eat her pussy, but he doesn't really want to. It's about his dick tonight, about the effect this bitch that is his wife is having on his dick. He could get back on those tits, but he'll probably fucking come right away doing that, too. So what he does is turn her over and there's her ass, which he loves, he loves his wife's ass. But it's calming him a bit, he loves it but it's familiar, not strange and new like those breasts and it's not her fucking wet pussy staring at him either, and he feels calm. But oh God, she's lifting it up at him and there's no hiding from what's underneath it. And so he leans over her to not look, and, anyway, his dick has been safely calmed, it's still hard as rock, but not as near to bursting, and he rubs it on her like a cat in heat and then she's rubbing her ass back at him, her ass is asking him to stick it in her, which he does sticks it into her like a knife in butter and he leans over her and takes each one of those breasts in his hands. And then he grabs both breasts in one hand, smashing them together hard, and she lets out a short cry, and with his free hand he grabs her head and twists it around, back toward him, so that he can shove his tongue down her mouth again. Damn. Damn.
hip bones, her splayed legs, and he gently thumbs her clit but she pushes his hand off of her pussy and arches up to him, her own hands on her tits, moaning and he grips her hips and thrusts in there deep and he's just gonna come. It's just gonna happen. Her head is twisted to the side and her own hands smash her breasts together they touch! They're so big they touch each other! and he thrusts again but he's going to come and he can come inside her if he wants, she's already pregnant, it's not going to make her more pregnant, and he loves everything about this, the no condom, the no cervical cap which he used to bang up against, the no smelly spermicidal jelly, just the thick, tangy smell of his dick in her pussy and he can come inside of her if he wants. But he wants to come on her face is what he wants and he hopes she's up for it, and really he knows she is because that's why he married her. Not because he needed someone to cook him dinner, not because he wanted her to raise his kids, mop his floors and put his underwear in the dresser drawer. No, he married her because she's the kind of woman who likes to pretend she's a porn star. He wants to lift his dick out and hold it over those breasts and that's exactly what he does, his knees up near her armpits now and one hand is on his pulsing cock, and the other is grasping her round, fleshy breasts together, and he shoots out come all over her tussled, beautiful face, and her round, round breasts, banging his cock against one nipple, then her chin, tap, tap, tap, knocking out every last drop of himself onto her, his wife. And Dick is, in no small way, the happiest man on earth.
