When his mouth moves to my hip and his tongue softly traces the lines there, I try not to get shy. Instead, I just focus on how good it feels. When I was pregnant with Noah, I got a lot of very noticeable stretch marks. I’d never had them before, but the ones from carrying such a big baby were so red and deep. I was worried Phillip wouldn’t think I was pretty like I used to be, but I was wrong. He tells me how I’m more beautiful now than before and how they show him what I went through to give us a family. Every time we make love, he pays reverence to them and to me.
When his tongue moves lower, between my legs, my thighs fall open without a hint of hesitation. He has had every inch of me, and he can continue to have it if that’s what he wants.
His mouth licks me in the places he knows so well, in the exact rhythm that I love. There’s no finesse and no teasing. Just his mouth on my pussy, taking an orgasm from my body. I hardly move. I just lie there while he sucks on me until I’m close. And when I’m there, my back stiffens and I cry out, feeling the bone-deep pleasure run through me. It’s exactly what I need and I didn’t even know it.
“How do you always do that?”
“Do what?” he mumbles, kissing his way up my body.
When he gets between my legs, he doesn’t make a move to push his cock into me. Instead, he just hovers over me, looking down into my eyes.
“Always give me what I need before I even know I need it?”
His smile is a little cocky, and it makes me smile, too. Though I can feel that mine is lazy and a bit dazed after the climax he just gave me.
He doesn't answer. He leans down and takes my mouth, letting me taste myself. His kiss is as possessive on my lips as it was on my pussy. He consumes me and I just lie there and take it. His body moves and his cock presses against my opening. With one full thrust he’s inside me, filling me up. This is what we both need. Coming together as one to reconnect our bodies and souls. As silly as it sounds, he’s my soul mate. I know without a doubt that I waited my whole life for him. And I’m glad I did because he was worth the wait.
Our love-making is slow and easy, without any rush. Phillip takes the lead as he gives me endless amounts of pleasure. I cum so many times I lose count, but he demands more and more. Finally, when I’ve nearly passed out from all the orgasms, he floods my pussy with his cum and allows himself the release.
We lie there quietly, wrapped around one another, and I’m about to drift off when Phillip whispers into the dark.
“If it’s a girl, I’d like to name her after you.”
“Hmm?” I’ve nearly drifted off when his words reach my ears.
“I saw the test before I brought you to bed. I was right. As always.”
Six years later…
“One, two, three, four…”
“Dad, why are you counting?”
I grit my teeth because Noah is sitting beside me and I don’t want to cause a scene. We’re at MJ’s soccer game and I don’t want to embarrass her.
“Nothing, son,” I say to Noah through a clenched jaw. Instead, I watch carefully as MJ’s coach talks to Molly on the sidelines, leaning in a little too closely for my liking. He’s always smiling at her, acting all friendly, but today it’s getting obnoxious. He’s leaning in and laughing at everything she says, and it’s pissing me the fuck off.
MJ’s our almost-five-year-old daughter, named after Molly. We started calling her Molly Junior when she was born, and MJ just sort of stuck. She’s currently on the field deciding between picking flowers and tackling the other kids, but she’s having a blast.
The only problem seems to be coming from her over-friendly coach.
Molly mentioned in passing the other day that the coach sends a lot of emails and it was a little annoying to her. When I logged on to see Molly’s emails, I noticed that she was the only recipient of the emails. Molly kept blowing it off, saying he was just trying to help MJ focus.
I started watching him around her and making an effort to always be by Molly’s side whenever the games were going on. I trust my wife, and I know that she would never cross a line, but this motherfucker needs to watch himself.
He reaches out and places his hand on her upper arm, giving it a squeeze, and I glare at them when I see it happen. I’m up off the bench before I know it.
I see Molly take a step back at the contact, and that enrages me further. She doesn’t like anyone touching her but me. And neither do I. I’m the only one who gets to touch her, even in the most casual way. She’s mine. In every fucking sense of the word.
“Touch my wife again and you’ll be writing letters to your mom with your toes.”
His look of shock on his face should be comical, but I’m seeing too much red to appreciate it. I feel Molly put her hand on my lower back, and I relax a little, but the anger is still boiling inside of me.
“Excuse me, Mr. Tanner. I didn’t mean to offend—”
“Keep your hands, and your email, to yourself.”
Another man comes up from the sidelines and steps in front of the coach, getting between us.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d step back from my husband before there’s a scene these children don’t need to witness,” the man says.
I look over his shoulder to the coach, who’s now blushing violently.
“Phillip,” Molly says from behind me, “this is Brad and his husband, Ron. They invited us over for a cookout this weekend. I was just telling him that we’d love to attend.”