A Daydream & Distraction by RedBud
The large spade of his cock had already parted her.
She arched to accommodate the thing filling her from behind. She gripped the bedsheets. She opened her mouth with the full length of him. One hand was in her hair, the other at the joining of her hip and leg. He pulled her back and she grunted as his width nudged her bladder. He wouldn’t care. She needed to be fucked.
His thrusts began.
She couldn’t say why, but she knew she would come.
She had been in the kitchen the night before. They had been talking. There had been no flirting. Nothing. They were each on their second glass of wine. The table hadn’t been cleared yet. Her husband simply said, “Do it.”
She was gently guided from the chair and pushed to her knees, the palms of her hands on the floor. She gazed at her husband as she was mounted and ridden. When a hand at the nape of her neck pushed her check to the floor, her ass in the air, she came. Her muscles expectantly clenched and released until she felt the answering explosion that filled her belly.
When she stood she was flushed and breathless.
She moved back to her seat, her thighs wet with her own and juicesflowing out of her. The conversation began again as though nothing had happened.
She would be fucked again, that night.
And there was the week before, when they had just agreed to the arrangement.
Some would condemn it. No, Many would condemn it – immoral, a travesty. But how was this any different? She wanted a child and so did her husband. Her body responded. How could she not? She was going to come again. Her husband’s lips brushed her ear. “Are you going to come?”
“I want to feel it,” he whispered.
They had agreed to do it.
No sooner agreed, her husband said, ‘Do it’.
She had spread her legs, there on the couch. She leaned back even as the first thrust pierced her taut abdomen. There had been no hesitation. There had been no exchange of words, no looks or touch. There had only been the first thrust that made her cry out with the filling size of him. Somehow that was exactly what she wanted. An exchange of words or kindnesses would have been wrong. She was being fucked for one reason. She was gasping with each thrust for only one reason. She screamed when she came and she screamed again when her belly was filled by another orgasm.
The agreement had been for a week, but a week had come and gone.
She couldn’t explain the need. Did she do it for herself or for her husband? Was it the need to obey? Was it his gaze, the way their eyes never parted when she was taken? She only knew that a new kind of desire burned in her breasts and belly, unquenchable. She waited for the words. Sometimes they came as a whisper, sometimes a command, sometimes slyly and slowly.
They had been driving. She was sitting in the front with one bare foot on the dashboard, the other half out the window. Her thighs were open. Her husband had pulled to the side of the road. “Do it,” he said. Her belly was filled, there on the side of the road. She had been turned sideways in the front seat. The passenger door was open and her thighs were spread wide, her left foot still on the dashboard, her right foot braced against the roof. She had been wide open. Her sex was open and easily filled to the full depth of her slender belly. She had groaned and arched. She panted as if she couldn’t breathe. Cars drove past them as she was fucked. When she came she couldn’t breathe. Her back quietly twisted and bent upward again and again. Her muscles gripped the cock penetrating her with a kind of hunger until the first spurts flowed into her womb.
The spooning thrusts were faster and deeper.
She was close to coming. Her husband’s fingers brushed her clit. She couldn’t help it. She lifted her leg, widening her thighs, inviting another orgasm to fill her. Was it because it made her feel feminine? Was it the elemental feeling of a woman completely exposed? Was it the feeling of complete abandon to the cock moving in and out of her womb? She was going to come. Her belly was tightening.
“I’m going to come?”
“I forbid it.”
“I can’t help it,” she moaned. “I can’t stop it.”
Her answer set her husband on fire. He stared at her. He watched her. His fingers moved more quickly. “I forbid it,” he growled again, his voice strained with arousal.
“I can’t help it!” she wailed and arched and lifted her head up and back. The cock inside her was so large, so unrelenting, so deep. All she could do was to widen her legs and surrender to her body’s surrender.
“Do it!” her husband growled. “Now!”
“Yes,” she exhaled. But who did he mean? Her? Her lover?
Her husband watched her convulse and tremble, her narrow abdomen sharply gripping and releasing the cock inside her. And he watched as even more powerful convulsions inseminated her from behind. How was this any different than having a doctor (or her husband) put another man’s sperm in her body? This felt right, natural and desirable in a way she couldn’t have expressed.
She remembered how her head rested in her husband’s lap, between the steering wheel and his stomach as she was fucked in the car. He had stroked her hair and gazed at her with undivided love.
It was her husband who made her come every time.
It was the way he gazed at her.
She had unzipped him in the car. And just as her husband came in her mouth, another man’s cock was coming in her womb.
November 16 2010