She came out of our closet, holding a silly looking pair of pants in front of her. "No, just no. Normally Jackie is pretty reliable, but she's gone too far this time."
I smiled, bemused. Jackie was a strange one, with an off sense of humor that I'd always appreciated. I assumed that this was her version of a joke, but I wasn't actually sure.
"Tell her no more hammer pants."
I laughed. That's what they were! "Hammer pants."
She gave me an exasperated, wide-eyed look. "Is this some sort of maternity wardrobe joke?" she asked.
"We can only hope."
Her already ample br**sts had gotten huge. It didn't matter what she wore, whether she showed her cle**age or wore a shirt up to her neck, they quite simply tried to escape her clothes, pushing at buttons, swelling into and over any single thing that she tried to wear.
Between that perfectly rounded belly and those mouthwatering tits of hers, I was useless as soon as she entered a room, throbbing in seconds, no matter the company. If she came into arm's reach of me, I was done, my hands filling with her lush curves whether I willed it or fought it.
Even after all the years together, she still blushed for me, but never resisted, never batted me away.
I tried to take her out a few times when she was blooming with her pregnancy, but quickly found that this was impossible for me.
I sat across the table from her in Red, drinking her in, watching her take a sip of water, her lips wet, her throat working. That alone put me in a state. Hardcore BDSM p**n could not have done for me what just watching her take one draw of water did.
I was sitting beside her, my chair dragged with me, between one drink and the next, my arm around her, the other rubbing at her belly, then her thigh under the table.
Her mouth parted in a gasp, and I bent to kiss her, my intent innocent enough, if anything could be innocent when I had been obsessed with f**king her senseless since the moment I'd set eyes on her.
The years had not softened that need one bit.
One soft wet touch of her lips made me snap, and I groaned as I nuzzled into her parted lips, sliding my tongue into her mouth, then out to lick her lips. I took them hard, sucking, licking, biting as I wrapped her close with one arm, the other snaking up to fondle her glorious tits.
She murmured something unintelligible, her tone surprised, but I couldn't stop rubbing, fondling, eating at her lush pink mouth. She wore a loose maternity style sundress with a rounded neckline. It showed enough of her cle**age that I almost hadn't let her leave the house in it. My first instinct was quickly proving to be wise, as I barely stopped my hand from plunging in to touch skin.
Attempting to restrain myself, I moved my lips to her brow, and my roaming hand back to her belly.
A soft gasp out of her mouth had me losing it again, bending to nuzzle into her exposed cle**age, my hands cupping her br**sts together to better feast.
I tore myself away when one errant hand decided on its own to grab her hand and drag it to my pulsing cock.
I was panting as I said, "I think we need to go."
She swallowed, hand still on the throbbing bulge of my erection. "Yes."
I bent and started kissing her, then tore myself away again.
We didn't even try to make it to the apartment. I dragged her up to my office suite.
The first mating was frenzied and fast. I laid her on the edge of the bed, grabbed her hips, and plunged in, f**king as hard and fast as I dared.
I was obsessed with her tits, and I carefully climbed over her body, pushing them together. I shoved my c**k in between, fixated on titty f**king her, but it wouldn't work. I'd have had to put pressure on her belly that way.
I finally settled for sitting her up in a chair, gripping her br**sts and f**king them like that, upright, grabbing great handfuls of her flesh and rubbing into her.
Her devouring eyes kept me hypnotized all the while.
I came on her chest and still coming, kneeled down and got under her belly to suck on her clit, fingers driving into her, making her come hard and fast.
EPILOGUE
MY FAMILY
I've been remade five times in my life.
You know about the first four.
And I'm sure you can guess the fifth.
Fatherhood suited me. I'd always suspected it would, but the reality, the day to day of it, blew me away.
And Bianca as a mother was all that I had ever wanted. Watching her grow into the role, growing together, it was the very meaning of my life. The purpose of my existence.
We had three beautiful children, one boy and two girls, each of them roughly one year apart. They were our pride and joy.
Duncan was a brilliant boy. I knew he had a mind for business early on. He was enterprising, born with the shoulders to carry heavy responsibilities. He looked like me and had many of my traits, with little sprinkles of his mother apparent in the little subtle movements of his face. The twist of his smile. The wrinkling of his nose.
He was a charmer, that one. But also sweet and loving.
Duncan worshipped his mother, thought the sun rose and set in her smile, would move mountains to win her approval. He got that from me.
Imogen was passionate and resilient, and terrifying in her stubborn pride. She was a fighter.
She and Duncan could have been twins, they looked so much alike.
She had a strong sense of justice and a compassionate soul. She was versatile in that she could have done anything, been anything, because she always excelled.
We never tried to predict where her life would take her. We were just excited to watch her path.
Isabella was an artist. We knew early on. She was a daydreamer. A stargazer. Our little angel was born with the ability to see and create beauty.
Obviously she got that joyous talent from her mother.
And at last we had a child that favored Bianca in looks. Except for her eyes. Those were mine.
She was sweet to a fault, a lover to Imogen's fighter.
Of course, I was her favorite.
She was a daddy's girl. Absolutely. I would move heaven and earth to keep it that way.
The real romance in life didn't come in that first sweet taste of love, as profound and life changing as it was. There was love then, yes. Obsession, passion, infatuation. All of that and more.
But the true romance came from the slow lapse of time, the inexorable passing of days, weeks, months, years, decades.
I'd hold onto her with the last breath in my body. My final thought would be that I hadn't gotten enough, I just knew it.