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He slides in and out of my mouth, stretching and making it swell. I gag every time he pushes forward, saliva falls from my mouth onto my tits, and it makes my pussy gush every single time.
“Open your mouth, little girl, breathe through your nose.” He moves faster and faster, my teeth making every pass more frantic for him. “I bet that blossoming flower between your legs is juicy now, isn’t she, baby girl? Is it dripping for Daddy, little one?”
“Mmm. I try to answer him, but I am stuffed full of his cock, and no words will be heard. Just the sound of my husband, using my throat for his own masturbation sleeve. Oh, did I forget to mention we are married and expecting our first? Well, it is true.
The night he came back from my brother’s, he fucked me so hard I passed out. When I woke up, I had a ring on my finger, and he informed me we were going to the Bahamas to be married and to honeymoon in two days. The following day, my brother came over and explained to me in a vague explanation what has been going on, but the important part of the conversation was that he loves me, and if I am happy, so is he. That meant everything to me. I thought I would have no family to bring to this union, but it turns out I had my brother, and well… he got sideswiped by love too, but that is not my story to tell.
When we got back from our honeymoon, we found out I was pregnant. Cillian’s family flew out to our home a few months later to meet me, and it was insane. His parents are amazing, but it was his brother Liam and his wife Orla that I really connected with. She is pregnant as well. Actually, we are due two days apart. We are having a gender reveal tomorrow, and Cillian has the envelope. I have been dying to know what we are having, and I am trying to bribe him to let me see it ahead of the party, but he is as stubborn as a Leprechaun.
“Shit, baby. What the fuck! Let go.” I shake my head, his cock still in my mouth, and he curses as his hips keep bucking. “Fucking spoilt bitch. I am not telling you anything.” He grips my neck, and his cock goes down my throat before he spills into my stomach. My pussy weeps at his filthy words that would make ordinary women cringe. But not me. When my husband calls me his bitch, I know I am driving him crazy, and he no longer has control of his mind. I do. “Fucking shit, flower. Swallow every fucking drop.” His balls are blocking my air from the bottom, and his waist my air from the top. I could panic. I mean, I can't breathe, but he would never hurt me, and being pregnant with his child, I know he is conscious of what he is doing. When he pulls out of my esophagus, I gasp for air, and he pulls me into his arms. “That was amazing, baby. Thank you.” He kisses me with such reverence it makes me tear up. “Hey. No crying.”
“I’m sorry. I just love you so much, Daddy.”
“I love you too, my flower. More than you will ever know.” he is wrong. I know because he shows me every day.
EPILOGUE
CILLIAN
Three Years Later
“Kennedy. Makenna. Cormac. Flower.” I have been gone for three days, attending a conference for the law firm I am with. I have missed my wife and children more than they will ever know. I told my boss when the conference was over I was never fucking doing it again. Being without the hugs from my kids and my wife’s sweet pregnant pussy for three days was too fucking much. Speaking of, where the hell is everyone?
I take the stairs two at a time and peek into the nursery. When I open the door, I see my two girls napping on the bed together, and it makes my heart skip a beat. If you would have told me three years ago I would have two daughters; I would have called you insane. But, here I am with a three and half-year-old and a two-year-old daughter, and a ten-month-old son. My wife is currently pregnant with our second son as well.
After kissing my daughters and pulling their covers up, I walk out and search for my wife. Walking closer to the second door on the left, I open it to find my wife feeding our son, who is currently suckling from her breast. Lucky little tyke. “My flower.” She smiles and looks up at me.
“Oh my gosh, when did you get home?” I know she wants to get up and greet me properly, but my boy is like his father. When he has the tit, he doesn't like to let go.
