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“My stitching is perfect! It’s the fabric's fault if it doesn’t come out straight.” Wow.
“Understood.” I nod, putting the tool on the nightstand.
I lay the rest of my load on the bed beside Velma and she cautiously eyes it, poking at the container of pins. “You haven’t answered my question. Why do have a shit-ton of quilting supplies?”
“Because we’re making a quilt— together.”
When Ivette told me about Velma’s hobby today a plan formed in my head. What better way to show Velma how serious I am than making a quilt that showcases our life together? It’ll be a project we can work on for years.
I went to the craft store and loaded up on the basic tools we’d need. I’m not stupid. I know Velma already has this stuff, but I wanted to show her how serious I was about this.
Velma's eyes widen and her mouth falls open. “A quilt! Are you insane?”
“Probably but does that matter?” I ask, dropping to my knees at her feet, and spreading her legs open. Her tight moist slit distracts me for a minute but I shake my head and carry on. This is too important.
Grabbing both of her hands I peer into her soft eyes. “I love you, Velma, and I’m not going anywhere. From now on I’m going to collect the pieces of our story and you, my love, can put them in any order you see fit. I don’t care what it looks like as long as it never ends.” And because I can’t help myself, I run a finger down her slit, gathering the juices pooled there.
Velma jumps and then spreads her legs even wider. “CJ,” she whines. “Touch it again.”
“Give me what I want. What we both want.” My angel is holding back and I don’t like it. I know she’s afraid but she has to believe that I’ll never let her fall.
Nibbling her plump bottom lip, Velma stares at me. So long that fear grips my heart.
“Please give us a chance,” I beg.
“Okay,” she finally says. “But I’m calling it a fling until proven otherwise.”
I’ll take it. It’s not perfect but I’ll take it. I’ve proven myself time and time to people who doubt me. And I’ll do it again this time.
With no other words, I get to work satisfying my baser needs, licking at her pussy like a starving man. Spreading her lower lips open and slip my tongue into her tight pink hole, lapping at the sweet cream inside. The flavor that hits me is intoxicating. Ambrosia is the right name for it.
When the well runs dry, I thrust two fingers in and pump for more. I need all the juicy goodness her hot little body can produce.
Velma has a death grip on my head and moves her hips to the rhythm of my fingers, building up to a release.
Her moans and whimpers fill the room as I dive back in and enjoy the result of our combined efforts coating my tongue.
My cock is dripping pre-cum, making a mess in my pants. But it will have to wait. This first time is going to be quick so I need to draw out the foreplay.
Somewhere along the way Velma had shed her shirt, her large breasts on show and taunting me with their dark stiff peaks. I slid a hand up her stomach and gently cupped one, pinching the nipple between my fingers then switching to the other side.
“Yes,” Velma cries out, arching her back to give me better access.
My actions produce more cream which I greedily lap up. My cock throbbing so hard I can feel it all over. I need to get inside her— and soon. With my free hand, I strum her clit, vibrating the swollen nub until Velma throws her head back and moans deep and long, her orgasm rocking her body.
Without my usual finesse, I rip off my shirt, pull down my pants freeing my aching rod then slam into her sopping wet pussy. Every thrust I give her sends her release higher and higher. Velma keeps coming and coming, her spongy walls pulsing around my sensitive cock.
“Fuck, baby, you feel so good… your tight pussy hugging my cock. It knows who it belongs to. Who it wants to keep forever.”
The sounds coming out of Velma are almost animalistic, nothing but grunts and groans and a jumble of intelligible mutterings.
I’m no better. Sweat dripping off my forehead onto her chest, breathing so heavily it feels like my heart is going to explode.
I begin to feel a tingle in my spine so I grunt, “I’m not going to last. Tell me now if I need to pull out.” I’m kicking myself because I didn’t put on any protection. I didn’t want to. My baby in Velma’s belly and a ring on her finger is the ultimate goal but it has to be her choice.
When she doesn’t answer me, I tell her again, spearing her with my gaze.
It takes several beats before she answers. “Do it. Fill me up.” It could be the orgasm talking but I’m taking this chance.
