Who would have thought that Katherine Harrison would be sitting astride my rigid cock, grinding her pussy against me as my hands caress her swollen breasts?
She complains of their soreness, the fact that they've gotten several cup sizes larger in the past few months, and moans when I touch them now.
Whether she's vocalizing pain or pleasure, I'm not quite sure.
She rocks slowly on my cock, the movement subtle. Her pussy is swollen now, because of the pregnancy – warmer and tighter than before, wetter now for me.
Kate thinks she's become less attractive. She worries because she's gained weight and gotten stretch marks – but holy hell, I can't even explain how much more attracted to her I am now than I was before.
This woman who's riding me, who's making these little sounds – a cross between whimpering and moaning – has become someone other than the girl I fell in love with. Everything about her is more womanly than before – the way her curves have become full and round, her face radiant and glowing, her movements somehow softer and more sensual. I can't look at her without thinking of her in my bed, without wanting to bury my face between her legs and drink in her rich scent.
Everything about her has changed, yet everything is the same.
The pregnancy has changed the sex, too – she's ready, wanting me all the time, and wanting to try new things. She says it feels better, more intense, more alive. And that's why when she rides me now, her hair falling back down her shoulders, pushing me more deeply inside her, I come close to letting go.
Her warm wet pussy throbs around me. It pulls me in deeper, demanding my release, but I steel myself against it.
Not yet.
I wrap her hair around my hand, pulling her head back and sliding my arm across her chest, my fingers playing with her nipple the way I know she likes. Her pussy tenses immediately in response, and I know I have her. I breathe against her ear, whispering, knowing that the little hairs on the back of her neck will rise in response, that it will send goose bumps down her arms.
That it will bring her so close.
"Are you enjoying this gift, Kate?" I ask. "Because I've been thinking about how much I wanted you on it since I first saw it."
She groans her answer, the word unintelligible as she arches back, pressing her pussy down further on my rigid cock. I force myself not to come inside her, despite how ready she is for me. Despite how much I want to fill her up.
I tug her hair again, eliciting a squeal.
"Tell me, Kate," I say. "Tell me how much you love riding me."
"Oh, God," she groans, the sound guttural. She rocks faster against me, and the head of my cock presses deep inside the walls of her swollen pussy. "Not Kate…"
"What do you want me to call you, Kate?" I ask, teasing, knowing full well what she wants me to call her. It's what she loves for me to call her now, despite the fact that it started as a joke, a demeaning term that somehow turned into a term of endearment.
"You know," she whispers. Her slick wet pussy clenches tighter around my cock.
"Then tell me how much you love my cock inside you," I whisper. "How much you love me bare inside your sweet pussy."
"Oh fuck, Caulter," she says, riding me harder. Her hand reaches down between her legs, and although I can't see what she's doing, I know she's stroking her clit, bringing herself to the brink as she bounces on my dick. But I'm not going to let her come, not so easily. Not until she tells me what I want to hear.
"Tell me you love my cock," I say. "Stroking you inside, fucking you."
"Oh God, Caulter," she says. "I'm so close. I love your cock bare inside me. I love feeling you when you come inside me."
"Fuck, Princess," I say, calling her by the name I know she wants to hear. It never fails to push her over the edge. "Come for me, Princess."
And she does.
Before I even finish the phrase, she comes, screaming her orgasm with abandon, not the way she used to have to be careful, in her Senator father's house in New Hampshire when we were sneaking around and hiding from everyone.
Now she yells her orgasm, loud enough to shake the fucking walls, and I feel my balls clench tightly before I let go, filling her up with my hot seed.
Afterward, I pull her tightly against me, brushing aside her hair and burying my face in the side of her neck as I breathe in her scent. She smells like everything that's right with the world, like sunshine and warmth and flowers.
That's probably the lamest thought any guy has ever had, but it's true. Everything about her is right, and when she's close to me like this, her breath coming in long deep gasps, I know there's nowhere else on earth I'd rather be but here with her.
"Nice chair." Her words break the stillness between us.