Baby Blues & Burning Desires

The scent of lavender and stale sweat hung in the air as I sifted through the forgotten memories of our past. The faded photographs in the album, remnants of a time when we were young and reckless, sparked a strange longing within me. Lucy, radiant in her cotton sundress, a perfect curve of her pregnant belly peeking through the fabric, brought back a potent, almost painful, memory of a stolen moment of intimacy during her difficult first trimester. The nausea had been relentless, a constant companion that forced us to cancel plans and confine ourselves to the safety of our home. But even amidst the misery, a primal fire had ignited within me, an uncontrollable urge to connect with the woman I loved most.

As her condition improved, so too did my desire. The thought of her again, vulnerable and beautiful, became an obsession. But fear held me back, a nagging doubt about her readiness, her willingness to even consider sex. Yet, I couldn't deny the insistent whispers of my own lust, a constant, throbbing ache that demanded release. I decided to test the waters, to gauge her feelings without pushing too hard.

One lazy Saturday morning, while she lay on her back, rubbing her belly with a grimace of discomfort, I saw my opportunity. "Turn on your side," I suggested, my voice low and gentle. "I'll rub your back for you." It was a simple request, but one that held a hidden agenda. As she reluctantly shifted, I moved behind her, careful not to startle her. My hands, cool at first, quickly warmed as I pressed into her lower back, seeking the precise spot that always sent shivers down my spine.

"Yikes," she squealed, a mixture of pain and pleasure in her voice. "Cold hands!" "Sorry," I replied, pulling my hands back and reaching under her t-shirt to massage her shoulders. The touch ignited a fire within me, a burning desire that intensified with each passing moment. I continued my ministrations, slowly tracing my fingers down her back, pausing to gently graze her full breasts, their weight pressing against the elastic of her shirt. Her body writhed beneath my hands, a silent plea for more.

As I worked, my cock began to harden, a rigid tent straining against my sweaty clothes. The anticipation was almost unbearable. It was a dangerous game, this slow seduction, but the thought of losing control, of succumbing to the raw, primal urges that consumed me, was too tempting to resist. I shifted my position, bringing my hips closer to hers, feeling the heat radiate from her skin.

“The soreness is lower down,” she said, her voice laced with a hint of desperation. I moved my hands slowly down her back, massaging the oblique muscles above her hips, always mindful of her comfort, yet always seeking to ignite her passion. Every so often, I reached under the elastic of her sweatpants, gently caressing the smooth expanse of her belly, marveling at the way her skin felt beneath my fingertips.

By this point, my desire had reached fever pitch. The thought of unleashing my pent-up lust on her, on the woman who embodied everything I craved, was overwhelming. But I knew that pushing too hard could destroy what we had built, what we both desperately wanted to preserve. So, I continued my slow, deliberate assault, savoring each touch, each caress, each stolen moment of intimacy.

Suddenly, she shifted again, a new urgency in her movements. "This feels so good, but you aren't able to reach my right side fully," she said. "Maybe if I shift to my hands and knees, you can get a better grip." With a grunt of effort, she managed to rotate and push herself up on her elbows, her belly stretching out before me like a ripe fruit. I sat behind her, my arms wrapped around her hips, feeling the strain in her muscles as she held her position.

Her ass was a masterpiece, a sculpted landscape of curves and contours. I reached for my hand, slowly sliding my fingers over the smooth, taut expanse of her flesh. The sensation was exquisite, both thrilling and repulsive, a perfect embodiment of our complicated desires. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "You look so beautiful," I replied, my gaze locked on her body. "You look fucking incredible. I've been fantasizing about you constantly."

Her hips began to sway in time with my caresses, a silent invitation that I couldn't ignore. "Really?" she questioned, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Of course!" I exclaimed, pressing my lips against her neck. "You are my beautiful wife. We have created this incredible life together. I am so sorry it has been such a hard pregnancy for you, but I have never stopped lusting after you."

Her movements intensified, her body arching in response to my touch. "I thought I was an ugly sick thing," she said, her voice choked with emotion. "What are you talking about?" I asked, pushing my hands against her lower back and caressing her ass cheeks. "You look fucking incredible. I’ve been fantasizing about you constantly."

As the intensity increased, my cock felt like it would burst through my trousers. The need to release was becoming unbearable, but I knew I couldn't give in just yet. So, I shifted my weight, bringing my hips closer to hers, feeling her body tense beneath my touch. She shifted again, her body writhing in anticipation. "Pull out for a second and rest your cock on my ass," she told me.

With a deep breath, I complied, pushing my hard member against her broad hips, feeling the pressure build. She shivered, her body trembling with pleasure. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated desire, a testament to the power of our connection. "I want to come inside you," I whispered, my voice filled with longing.

And so, we moved forward, lost in the depths of our shared lust. The world outside faded away as we embraced our primal instincts, finding solace and satisfaction in each other's bodies. Her pussy was a gateway to pleasure, a swirling vortex of sensation that pulled me deeper and deeper into its embrace. I plunged in, exploring every inch of her delicate flesh, feeling the heat radiate through my body.

The combination of her vulnerability and my desperate need was intoxicating, pushing us both to the edge of our senses. We writhed together, lost in the ecstasy of our coupling, unable to resist the pull of our shared desire. Each thrust, each gasp, each moan of pleasure was a testament to the depth of our connection, a reminder of the passion that still burned between us. The sweat poured from our bodies, a salty testament to the intensity of our encounter. As we collapsed back onto the bed, exhausted and sated, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey, a testament to the enduring power of lust, love, and the unwavering desire for connection.

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