Heavy Hearts, Heavy Breasts (L)

The third time my child arrived, I was drowning in exhaustion and regret. The pregnancy had ravaged my body, adding a considerable amount of weight that felt like a lead blanket draped over my soul. My husband, bless his heart, was eager to rekindle our intimacy, but I found myself resisting, a knot of self-loathing and insecurity tightening in my chest. I’d spent months trying to reclaim the slender figure I’d possessed before motherhood, but the progress felt painfully slow, a cruel reminder of the woman I’d lost.

Months bled into one another, marked by my husband’s persistent attempts to coax me back into bed. Each time, I offered a flimsy excuse, a desperate attempt to maintain a semblance of control over my life, over my body. But the excuses felt hollow, a pathetic shield against the gnawing truth: I wasn't the confident, desirable wife I once was. The memory of my pre-pregnancy body, all toned muscles and perfectly sculpted curves, felt like a distant, unattainable dream.

One evening, as I was changing clothes in the closet, Timothy, my husband, surprised me by stepping inside. He leaned in, a playful glint in his eyes, and kissed me deeply before reaching out to gently caress my backside. The unexpected intimacy jolted me, and without thinking, I pulled away.

“Stop, baby; not tonight,” I said, my voice tight with reluctance.

Timothy sighed, his face falling slightly. “Baby, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Just not tonight.”

“Honey, you’ve said that multiple times in the last six months. We haven’t had sex in HALF A YEAR. Why?”

“We’ve been busy! And I just had a kid, honey!”

“Those weren’t excuses with the first two.”

“You know what? FINE. If you want sex come on.”

The urgency in his voice was a challenge, a plea. Reluctantly, I climbed onto the bed and dimmed the lights, a ritual we rarely performed. It felt like a small act of defiance, a deliberate separation from the world. With a deep breath, I peeled off my sweatpants, revealing the softer curves of my body. Timothy entered, his movements deliberate, his gaze hungry. The first few minutes were awkward, filled with a hesitant touch and a palpable sense of unease. Then, something shifted within me, a desperate need to connect, to feel desired. The tension eased, replaced by a primal heat that spread through my veins.

As the encounter progressed, tears began to well up in my eyes. The shame and self-doubt threatened to consume me. "Baby, stop. I can’t do this," I choked out, my voice trembling.

Timothy immediately stopped, turning the bedside lamp on, his face etched with concern. "Baby, what’s wrong? What did I do?!"

“It’s not you, honey.” The words tumbled out, a torrent of pent-up emotions. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to have sex… because I don’t feel comfortable. I’ve gained so much weight, and I’m fat now. I don’t feel like the sexy mother and wife I used to be. And I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be refusing sex from you. But I just haven’t felt comfortable, and I’ve tried so hard to lose the weight, but I still just don’t feel comfortable. I’m sorry honey.” The tears flowed freely now, a release of pent-up frustration and self-loathing.

“I forgive you honey, and I love you. I love you more now than I ever have. Understand that. Also understand that, to me, you’re just as beautiful now as you were before, and I’ve never not wanted to have sex with you. That’s the only thing you should be worried about—not what other people think and not your own insecurities. You are hot.” He reached out, pulling me closer, wrapping his arms around me in a comforting embrace.

“Baby, you don’t have to lie.” He gently cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against my cheekbones. “I’m here for you, always. Let go of the past and embrace the present.”

“I’m not lying. Here, get up.” He helped me to my feet, leading me to the bathroom. As we entered, Timothy turned on the light, standing behind me. "Now, look at the mirror. You know what I see?"

“A fat mom,” I mumbled, staring at my reflection with a critical eye.

“Wrong.” He smacked my ass, a playful but firm gesture. “I see the woman I married, sexier than ever.” He turned me around, pulling me closer for another kiss. “Your body is perfect to me.”

“How can you find this perfect???” I gestured at my reflection, highlighting my fuller thighs and protruding stomach.

“Baby, your thighs turn me on. I love those thick thighs. Your thighs and booty have gotten bigger, and I love it—it gives me more to grab. And your stomach is just as beautiful to me. That extra weight and those stretch marks remind me of how you carried my children and gave birth to them.”

The tears welled up again, this time a mixture of shame and gratitude. "Thank you, honey," I whispered.

“Baby, I love you. You are just as beautiful to me now as you always have been. You’re my little sexy MILF.” We both laughed, a wave of relief washing over me. As we continued to embrace, I realized the truth in his words. My insecurities had blinded me to the fact that my husband still found me desirable, still cherished the woman I was.

My hands roamed Timothy’s naked body as we kissed and hugged in the bathroom. Then, emboldened by his affection, I took control, grabbing my husband’s soft cock and pulling it into my mouth. As he began to build momentum, I sucked with fervor, savoring the sensation. Reaching full size, I shifted my focus to his head, sucking on it with increasing intensity. Looking up at my husband, I felt a surge of primal pleasure.

“All the evidence you need that I still find you hot is in your mouth,” he told me, his voice hoarse with desire.

I stopped sucking and spit on his cock, a playful act of dominance. Then, I began slowly stroking his shaft while licking his balls. "Oh fuck, Liz, that feels so good,” he groaned, his body tensing with anticipation.

“Mmmm baby, your cock tastes good. I love sucking you,” I moaned, returning to my initial act of oral pleasure.

Suddenly, I stopped and stood up. Grabbing Timothy’s hand, I pulled him to the bed and commanded him to lie down. Then, reaching for the lube, I liberally coated my big titties, enjoying the sensation of their extra size. Looking down at my body, I realized that despite the weight gain, my breasts were still a source of pleasure and arousal. "Now, get on your knees," I ordered, pushing him down onto the bed.

As he complied, I took the opportunity to pleasure myself, taking his cock, and slowly penetrating him while licking my lips. My body arched as he responded, overwhelmed by the sensation. With each thrust, the pleasure intensified, drawing me deeper into a world of lust and desire. The scent of arousal filled the room as we both moved together, lost in the heat of the moment. Finally, Timothy reached climax, unloading a torrent of seed into my mouth.

“OH FUCK…… I’m CUMMING!” I shrieked, pulling him closer for a passionate embrace.

“Mmmm, baby, you’re cum tastes good. I love sucking you,” I whispered, licking his seed from my lips.

Timothy fell over on the bed, pulling me onto his chest for a desperate kiss. We both missed this so much, and we hadn’t even had intercourse… yet. After a few minutes of passionate kissing, I asked, “Ready for round two?”

The answer was a resounding "Yes," and we plunged back into our intertwined desires. As the night wore on, we continued to explore our bodies and our connection, finding solace and pleasure in each other's embrace. The weight of the past began to lift, replaced by a newfound confidence and a deeper appreciation for the love we shared.

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