Authors: Vivienne Harris-Scott
Baby doll
camisoles were her new best friends, they became mine. Long socks appeared when
she complained of cold legs and didn
’
t want to wear constricting pants.
I was happy
she had found comfortable clothes that she enjoyed wearing and that looked
great on her, making her embrace even more her body changes. They were sexy but
not scantily clad. They just fitted her new expending forms. I loved when she
was wearing them because it would allow me to caress her belly, or massage oil
or lotion on it as we were in bed or simply talk to my baby up close and
personal without having to disrobe her. Until now, these intimate gestures had
not been sexual, only bonding.
The baby
dolls just allowed me better access; I never viewed them as a seduction tool.
I had
accepted a long time ago that this part of my marriage would never be
recaptured, due to my own actions. I was at peace with it.
Until
tonight.
As
I was looking at her, I was reeling. Her lips were moist, I guess she had
licked them again while I was thinking of what to do next; my gaze lowered, and
I noticed her nipples were stiff, protruding through the soft fabric. The hand
that wasn
’
t
around my neck was sitting on top of mine, on her belly, as if to make mine
stop from trembling, and both her legs were over my knee, slightly parted, her
buttocks still between my legs pressing against my crotch.
I
swallowed hard, and exhaled. She was warm. I could feel her heat through my
sweater and pants.
Well,
her body always seemed warm to me lately, probably because I had been deprived
of it for so long; so every time I had touched her in the past weeks, she had
felt warm, soft, reassuring.
Now,
her skin was burning, and I felt my own temperature rise.
The
silence was charged with electricity. What was yet to be said, hanging in the
air between us.
((~~!~~))
She was sitting inches from me, hands clasped
on her closed knees, her head up, watching me.
Waiting.
I
slowly pulled down the straps from her shoulders, exposing her breasts.
Kneeling
in front of her, I stared at them.
This
was the first time I had seen my wife breasts since that fateful night I didn
’
t want to remember but which was embedded
in me forever; and I couldn
’
t
help but just stare at them in silence.
Her
breasts had always been my favourite part of her body. I loved her body from
head to toe; she had very enticing buttocks, long smooth legs that made any man
want to touch them, but her divine breasts were just my favorite part. I always
thought they were the perfect size, had the perfect texture, and simply looked perfect.
My
own chocolate fetish.
Now,
almost mesmerized, I looked at them with a new reverence.
The
baby doll top was resting just below them, still encompassing her ribcage and
covering the belly. If a picture had been taken, her milk chocolate breasts looked
like they were sitting on a white platter, being offered.
Images
of Delacroix and Degas crossed my mind.
I
licked my dry lips and I looked into her eyes, as one of my hand made contact.
I
slowly rubbed and caressed them. They were heavy and full, preparing themselves
for what lay ahead in a few months. They were firm, still supporting their own
increasing weight, yet soft. The skin of her breasts was smooth because the
growth of her breasts had given it much more to hold in. They looked like soft,
filled, balloons.
Her
nipples were pointed high, standing at attention, as if they knew what was
coming and couldn
’
t
wait to be latched on.
An
involuntary groan escaped my lips as I looked back up into her eyes. They were
glowing with need.
I
moved closer, as she parted her knees and my torso pressed against her belly as
I drew her right nipple into my mouth. I twirled my tongue around it, not
wanting to hurt her by biting it. Her body jerked as if electrocuted by the
contact and I felt her thighs start to quiver on each side of my body.
I
started to suckle, taking in as much as I could of her soft mound into my
mouth, cupping the rest with one hand and massaging it while I used my other
index finger to softly stroke and tug her left areole in a circular motion. She
started to tremble and, as my fingers continued to knead and pinch her nipple,
I could hear her gasp and felt hot air on my ear as her hand was weaving
through my hair.
I
unclasped the camisole, taking it of off her, and found myself looking at her arched
body. I drew her closer and again suckled and lightly bit on her breast, while
running one of my hands down the side of her belly and her back.
Her
breasts swelled and hardened, both nipples becoming hard as steel at the same
time. The sensation was surreal as I could feel it, both in my hand touching
her flesh and in my mouth. I gently squeezed and rolled the firm free nipple
between my fingers applying a bit more pressure than earlier while I scrapped
my teeth over the one in my mouth, holding her tightly with the other hand. She
moaned loudly, her whole body tensing up, and within seconds of me pinching and
bitting at the same time, she was over the edge.
Her
moaning was ethereal to my ears and, soon she was bent forward, both hands over
my shoulders as I could feel her body violently shudder. Her whimpering and her
knees tightening at my waist were a tell-all sign of her orgasm.
As
the tension began to subside, her legs being the only part of her body still
quivering, I stopped to look up at her face and couldn
’
t help whispering,
“
Mine.
”
when I merely brushed her lips with mine.
She
was panting and flushed, watching me with hazy eyes.
She
had this look of incomprehension, not quite believing what was happening
between us.
I
touched her wrist, slightly pressing it. Our old signal. Her body
’
s reaction was immediate, I
’
m not sure she even realized it. Her legs
slightly parted, her torso straightened, she licked her lips.
I
knew immediately, what had just happened was only the beginning; her body was
telling me she needed more but I wanted and needed her to vocalize her wishes.
I
wouldn
’
t
allow myself to touch her without her permission. Never again.
I
stood up, bent down to give her a light kiss on her open lips, and said softly,
with a strangled voice,
“
Lie
down
”
.
Holding her shoulders, I slightly reclined her body until her back hit the lush
suede pillow at the corner of the sectional, and her buttocks and tights were
inches from the edge of it, her calves and feet dangling at the bottom.
She
looked at me with hungry eyes, which showed a fierceness I hadn
’
t seen in a long time, her body on
display, offered to my gaze, like a romantic painting, her hands resting on the
arm of the sectional, making her breasts and belly point forward.
My
eyes never leaving hers, I removed my sweater and bare chested went back on my
knees. I lifted one of her leg and as I removed the long sock, leaving a trail
of light kisses on her inside thigh, I asked her if she wanted this. She
whispered in a barely audible voice,
“
Yes
”
, as the second sock met the same fate as
the first, landing on the floor. Only then, I slid down the last barrier
to her release: the lacy low-rise shorts.
Again,
I found myself staring. Drinking in each and every visible inch of her.
I
couldn
’
t
help but feel my mouth water at the sight.
Her
labia were swollen from her pregnancy, engorged from her arousal. Her nether
lips flared out like flower petals. Her sex was glistening throughout, begging
for my attention. I could see the moisture dripping. My eyes were fastened
there, fascinated. My nostrils inhaled, and her heady scent was everywhere
around me, soon I felt myself moving inextricably forward.
I
placed myself between her legs, lifting and placing each of her calves on my
shoulders, my mouth levelling with that enticing section of her.
I
could see she needed immediate release, but I still asked, whispering against
her core, "Baby
…
Are
you
…
"
She nodded as a strained sound escapes her lips, and her hips were thrusting
forward, her legs already shaking.
I
grabbed each cheek of her buttocks to hold her still.
We
exchanged one last look.
Finally,
I latched on.
I
lightly licked and explored with my tongue, savouring her taste. It had been so
long, I tried to take my time, but she was squirming, and I knew she needed
more. I inhaled her aroma deeply, barely able to control my own need to start
suckling on her clit, - the red membrane, exposed, glistening and pulsating
right there, a mere inch away from my tongue, daring me to resist-, but I did,
because I knew if I touched it now, it would be game over.
My
tongue whirled and twirled around it and I felt her body start to tremble and
wreath under my ministrations. She was close.
She
began panting my name, begging me to give her what she needed.
I
inserted one finger, barely moving it but making sure it worked in sync with my
tongue as I hit that sensitive
‘
G
’
spot with it while I lapped up her sweet
nectar. I still remembered how sensitive she was.
"Oh...God...E...Oh...Please
…”
she hissed, her hips bucking, and I knew,
in just mere seconds, she would get to the nirvana her body was seeking.
A
few light touches against that spot, and she would come.
I
wouldn
’
t
have to coax an orgasm out of her. She was giving herself to me. A gift to be
cherished. Savoured. Protected.
I
increased the swirling, while tapping my finger against her spot at small,
regular intervals. Her hips surged upwards, her legs tightened around my face
and a wailing scream erupted from her throat.
She
had just reached her explosive peak, streams of her essence was my reward. The
edge was off and my feast could begin.
I
would keep tasting and drinking her wine until her body screamed
‘
enough!
’
. Until, she was delirious.
The
second orgasm hit as she was coming down from the first. Again, she vocalized
her pleasure, and the head thumping started to intensify.
By
the third, she was almost violent in her reaction, grinding against my face so
hard, I was afraid she would hurt herself. I think I lost of a chunk of hair on
that one, but as forceful as she was pulling my locks, as relentless my tongue
and teeth were on her throbbing clit while two of my fingers slid in and out of
her.
After
that one, I was lost. Lost in her. That apex between her thighs was all there
was.
I
didn't know how long it had been since her last orgasm, or how many she had,
but I kept on latching into her tirelessly until I felt her quiver and jerk
into another.
The
erratic spasms of her body, guiding me and overwhelming me.
I
had never had such energy, such endurance. Never felt such power. Such total
control. Such love. On and on
,
I went. Untiringly.