Ripe for Release: A Sensual Birth

The insistent throb in my lower abdomen had been building steadily for weeks, a relentless reminder of the impending arrival. Thirty-eight weeks. The thought, once daunting, now felt like an invitation, a primal pull towards the inevitable. Matthew, my rock, my lover, my steadfast support, sensed my mounting tension and, with an understanding only a true partner could possess, decided to orchestrate a night of unparalleled pleasure, a sensual prelude to our baby’s birth.

He’d called me that afternoon, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the phone, suggesting a special dinner. It wasn’t just any dinner; he’d chosen a dimly lit, upscale steakhouse known for its intimate atmosphere and attentive service. As I luxuriated in a long, hot shower, meticulously preparing myself, anticipation coiled tight in my gut. The scent of lavender and sandalwood filled the air, a fragrant promise of the delights to come.

When Matthew pulled up to the curb in our charcoal grey Audi A4, the sleek lines of the vehicle seemed to mirror the sharp, confident look in his eyes. He stepped out, a picture of masculine grace in his tailored suit, and the sight of him sent a delicious shiver down my spine. The familiar scent of his cologne – a blend of citrus and spice – filled my senses, instantly igniting a fiery desire.

As he drew closer, pulling me in for a passionate kiss, my body responded instinctively, yearning for connection. The world seemed to fade away as our lips met, the rhythm of our breaths syncing in perfect harmony. The drive to the restaurant was filled with stolen glances, his eyes lingering on my cleavage, a silent invitation that I gladly accepted. I subtly folded my arms, a playful attempt to deflect his attention, but he simply chuckled, pulling me closer with a possessive grip on my waist.

“Honey, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he murmured, his voice a low, seductive rumble. He continued to stare, his gaze intense and appreciative, fueling the growing heat within me. The waiter, sensing the charged atmosphere, led us to a secluded booth, ensuring privacy and amplifying the intimacy.

Throughout dinner, the air crackled with unspoken desires. We engaged in playful teasing, punctuated by lingering touches and stolen glances. Then, as the dessert arrived – a decadent chocolate lava cake – Matthew’s fingers moved with an almost predatory grace beneath my dress. He slid his hand under the fabric, tracing the sensitive curves of my inner thighs, his touch sending shivers down my spine. A moan escaped my lips, a primal release of pent-up tension.

“We’ll finish it later,” he grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischievous delight, as he sped away from the red light, leaving me breathless and trembling. Back in the car, the atmosphere became even more intense. We could barely contain our lust, our hands constantly reaching for each other, seeking solace and pleasure. The stolen moments felt both urgent and exquisite.

Suddenly, a wave of contractions washed over me, sharp and insistent, disrupting the sensual dance we’d been engaged in. “Matt, I’m having contractions,” I gasped, my voice strained. Before I could fully register the significance, his lips crashed into mine, sending me spiraling into a wave of euphoria. He carried me, gently but firmly, supporting my weight as we made our way up the stairs to our bedroom. The rhythmic pressing against my back, combined with his nibbling on my earlobe, intensified the sensations, drawing me deeper into the moment.

Laying me down on the bed, he quickly unbuckled his pants, revealing his muscular physique. His penis, erect and ready, stood at attention, a testament to his arousal. As he began to undress me, he didn’t want me touching myself, but rather wanted to focus on his own pleasure, so he kissed my face with passionate abandon. Then, he moved down my body, sucking on my breasts until a warm trickle of milk began to flow, a sign of the impending labor.

His hands then descended, meticulously removing my dress, revealing my naked body to his eager gaze. I instinctively reached for his hand, craving the reassurance of his touch. He continued his exploration, kissing my belly, igniting a feeling of intense pleasure and anticipation. As he removed my panties, he buried his face between my legs, devouring me with fervent passion. The contractions grew stronger, more insistent, but they no longer felt like an unwelcome intrusion; they were an integral part of the experience, a catalyst for heightened sensation.

“Matt, in me, now!” I screamed, surrendering to the primal urge. He positioned his penis against my vagina and plunged in, initiating a powerful thrust. The first contraction hit me with full force, but as he continued his relentless assault, it transformed into something akin to pleasure. His movements were forceful, urgent, and perfectly timed, while his free hands rubbed my love mound, intensifying the sensations. The heat built within me, threatening to overwhelm me completely. I, too, was on the verge of an orgasm.

We both grunted with exertion, the waves of pleasure washing over us as Matt’s warm semen flooded my body. It was an explosion of sensation, a release of pent-up desire that left me breathless and trembling. As the final thrust brought us both to climax, we lay there, panting heavily, lost in the aftermath of our shared pleasure. The contractions continued, but they no longer held the same intensity, replaced by a sense of calm and fulfillment.

Matt got up and said that we should time my contractions together. Throughout the next few hours, we meticulously tracked each wave, alternating between stimulation and rest. As the contractions grew stronger, he continued to rub my love mound, sucking on my breasts, and kissing me, always attentive to my needs and desires. Just as I felt myself nearing the point of no return, the water bag finally burst, releasing a gush of warm, clear fluid.

Two hours later, Matt stuck his finger into my vagina, announcing that I was 8cm dilated. I felt a surge of confidence, knowing that we were close to the finish line. As I fully dilated, the contractions intensified, but this time, they felt empowering, fueled by the knowledge that our son was on his way. Taking a deep breath, I braced myself and began to push.

Matt stood over me, placing his hand on my lower back for support, and continued to stimulate my love mound, while simultaneously sucking on my breasts. I chanted, "Baby, come to mama and papa. Baby, Mama is birthing you with the act of love that created you," drawing strength from his presence and the primal connection we shared. As the baby crowned, his head emerged from my birth canal, and Matt gently laid him in my arms. The moment our son slipped into my hands, I felt an overwhelming surge of love and tenderness. Matt, overcome with emotion, ejaculated again, this time directly onto my breasts, sealing the moment with an unforgettable act of intimacy.

As we cradled our newborn son, tears streamed down our faces, a mixture of joy, relief, and profound love. The birthing experience, once filled with anxiety and uncertainty, had transformed into a sensual, passionate journey of discovery, a testament to the power of love and connection. Looking back on this extraordinary moment, we knew that we had not only welcomed a new life into the world, but had also deepened our own bond, forging a connection that would last a lifetime. Now, five months later, our son, Luca, is a thriving, happy baby, and we are both eagerly anticipating the next chapter in our lives, hoping for another sensual birthing experience that will bring us even closer together.

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Ripe for Release: A Sensual Birth

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