Russ leered at me all day, and when it was time to go home, barely contained his roughness when he undressed me. I told him I’d hurt him badly if he tore my beautiful dress, and he must have believed me, though how I would have accomplished it I couldn’t say.
Russ’s big hands caressed my rounded belly as he kissed me, thoroughly over every inch of my skin. My breasts were already letting down some fluid, which he suckled with every evidence of enjoyment. I wondered if the baby’s nursing would send those same connected sensations to my core. I couldn’t believe that Russ still found me so desirable, because I could see in the mirror that I looked very strange, an otherwise slender woman, with something the size of a beach ball distending her abdomen, topped by enormous breasts. But he did. Russ couldn’t get enough of staring at me while I was naked, and our wedding night was no exception.
“How do you feel, Kitten? Are you up to making love with me?”
“Always,” I answered dreamily. He undressed then, and resumed caressing me, pausing to feel the baby kicking. He put his lips to the spot and said, “Behave now, little Kitty, mommy and daddy are busy.” Because of his endearment for me, we had decided to name her Katherine, Kitty for short. Now he touched me gently in that spot that always melted me instantly, stroking and drawing moisture from between my legs to the erect bud of my clit.
As my belly grew, Russ had become more and more creative in positioning me for his tongue on that spot, until now, when I was nearly at term, we needed to lie on our sides, him curled around my belly. Naturally, that placed his cock strategically within the reach of my mouth, too.
At first, I’d laughed at what we must look like from above, curled into the classic sixty-nine position. It made him look at the ceiling speculatively.
“We could have a mirror installed up there.”
“Russ! What would the workman think, whoever we had do it?” Except for my uninhibited cries, our lovemaking had always been very private. I couldn’t fathom someone knowing that one or both of us liked to watch ourselves, though Russ often pulled the cheval mirror to the side of the bed to do just that. I discovered it was pretty hot, myself.
“Oh, I’d just have one of the hands do it,” he teased. That earned him a playful slap, but within days, my bedroom ceiling had been decorated in mirrored tiles, Russ doing the work himself. I just hoped the housekeepers never looked up.
On our wedding night, Russ had a different idea. He lay on his back, his legs propped up at a steep angle, and directed me to straddle his chest and lean back. Then he scooted me forward, his big hands covering my ass, until my core was positioned perfectly for his feast. The maneuvering had been awkward, my ungainly body requiring several adjustments before I felt comfortable and relaxed, but with the first touch of his tongue to my clit, desire flooded me again. I gave myself over to the ecstasy, urging him on with my cries and moans.
“I like this view,” Russ said, peering upward at the ceiling and stopping his lapping to make the remark.
“Russ,” I gasped, “don’t stop now!” He chuckled a little, then blew gently, warming me again.
“I think I’ll just take a little rest.”
“Think again, hombre,” I said between clenched teeth, pushing toward him.
“Oooh, I like it when you go all Domme on me,” he said with a smirk, lying through his teeth. If anyone was into that kind of kinky play, it was he. I’d once offered to tie his arms and legs to the bedposts and give him a blowjob, and got one of his stinging spankings in response. But, this time, he obeyed me and resumed the exquisite torture of my clit and pussy with his long, agile tongue.
My legs were folded back in a kneeling position, though they weren’t supporting me, Russ’s hands were. When the intensity of his tongue on my most sensitive spot brought my first orgasm, it lifted me involuntarily on my knees, Russ rising to follow me and continue lapping. I was quivering helplessly and hanging on to the headboard to avoid collapsing and crushing his head when he relented and pulled his face away.
“God, Russ, are you trying to kill me?” I gasped.
“Not just yet,” he grinned. Still handling me carefully, he helped me move my leg so he could slip out from under me. Patting the bed, he had me lie down with my back to him. Russ had become expert at taking what he wanted from me without being rough, and, although I missed the rough passion, we both had concern for the baby. When he had made me ready, he turned me so that I was lying on my side with him behind me and propped my leg up so he could enter me from behind. This position didn’t allow him to enter me as deeply, but it gave us the connection we craved without the danger of starting contractions.
He stilled, holding me with his hands covering my breasts, rolling my nipples and giving little grunts of pleasure when it caused me to contract around him. Slowly, he rocked in and out, moving one hand to my clit to increase my pleasure. Only when he felt me tense and the orgasm begin did he thrust more strongly, bringing himself to release right after me. It was a sweet and tender time, not the most passionate we had ever shared, but easily the sweetest.
Nuzzling my neck, he murmured his love for me and for our baby, along with his promise never to leave us, never to take any action that would harm us. I turned in his arms to give and receive a deep kiss, and promised never to leave him again, either. We fell asleep, sated but still entwined, and at last I was Mrs. White.
§
Katherine Hope White was born on June sixth, weighing a healthy 7 lbs. 8 oz., and sporting a full head of coppery curls set off by her Daddy’s blue, blue eyes. I couldn’t have loved her more, and her Daddy was equally smitten. Grandma Elizabeth was in attendance at the home birth, along with Grandma Eleanor, Dr. Beth, and of course, Daddy. He cut the umbilical cord, swaddled our baby, and laid her in my arms. “I love you, Kitten.”
“I love you, too, Russ.”
“I’m so glad you wrecked in that ditch.”
“You goof,” I sputtered, watching with wonder as my daughter found a nipple and began to suckle. “We would have met somehow. It was fate, remember?
THE END
Want more?
Get ‘Wrangled’ available now at Amazon.com!
If you’d like to know when I release another story, follow me on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/onlysexystories
or subscribe to my free newsletter:
Click Here to Subscribe to Natasha’s Newsletter
Or visit my website:
www.natashastories.com
Rustled Page 21