Terri strained forward, hair hanging down to brush Thomas’s sweat-slicked chest as she groaned softly between short, sharp, panted breaths, her hips grinding forward and down as she gripped his shoulders. His own hands were around her upper arms, simultaneously holding her and pulling her down harder onto his thick, straining cock as she ground closer and closer toward her fifth or sixth orgasm. Both were sheened in sweat, despite the air conditioning, and their clothes were strewn around Terri’s smallish but otherwise neat bedroom.
The queen-sized bed, which had seen better days, protested and creaked beneath them as Terri rode, her eyes now closed, mouth open, panting, as she approached her climax. Her belly, pendulous in her fifth month of pregnancy, rested on Thomas’s flat stomach as her full breasts swayed, nipples darkened and swollen as they occasionally brushed Thomas’s chest when she would swoop down to kiss him before resuming her riding.
“So close,” she moaned, and Thomas, reacting, lifted his hips into her, eliciting a groan from him and a mewl of delight from her at the added friction.
“Fuck yes …. fuck yes … just like that … don’t move!” she hissed, and began to jerk her hips in short, sharp bursts, grinding down, clearly now in the throes of yet another climax as Thomas gritted his teeth, held his breath and used his feet and core strength to lift up into her, to make it better, to make it last as she began to moan more loudly between pants, and then to make the cute little yelp he loved as she threw her head back, eyes squeezed shut, and let the orgasm shudder through her, her thighs clenching against his hips as her fingers dug into his shoulders, the arch of her back making her swollen breasts jut out beautifully as her rocking slowed, slowed … then stopped.
She collapsed atop him, still gasping, shuddering now as he held her, her legs shaking, the small contractions inside her making him gasp as she seemed to squeeze, then relax, then squeeze again against his still-swollen shaft.
“Oh my god … oh my god … so amazing,” she panted, her moist lips against his shoulder as they both breathed deep. A tremor shook her and he held her even tighter, and she slipped her arms around his neck, clinging, as she smiled, spent, feeling the wetness between them, Thomas’s semen from their previous bout mixed with her copious juices. She guess he was probably a mess down there — she knew *she* certainly was — but she didn’t want to move. She wanted to stay like this, for as long as she could. After all, who knew when they’d be able to be together like this again?
But finally, she groaned and slid away from him, as he moved to accommodate her, his erection slipping gooily from her, her messy cunt, short trimmed blonde bush looking buttered and leaving a trail of liquid across his groin and thigh as she moved to his side, an arm across his chest. She still had on the garter belt and stockings she’d worn to meet him for lunch, but her dark green dress — one of her few good ones — and the sexy black thong and bra set she’d worn for him were crumpled on the floor, intermixed with their shoes, his slacks and shirt and shorts.
She played idly with the well-groomed hairs of his chest, and noted with quiet dismay how many of them were gray now. She looked up to find his eyes on hers, and that small smile she loved as he looked at her, his arm sliding under her shoulders, drawing her close.
“That was lovely,” he murmured, squeezing her to him momentarily, his kind blue eyes on hers, his smile warming her, as it always did.
“Yes it was,” she laughed softly. “But you only came once!” she faux complained, playfully slapping his still-hard stomach.
“Once is enough for me,” he laughed in reply, then leaned to kiss her forehead. He paused … then put his hand on her gravid belly, gently caressing. Stroking.
“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. “Any problems?”
“No, thank God,” she said, covering her hand with his. “Morning sickness is over. Just, y’know … a little backache. And these things,” she sighed, hefting one abnormally large breast.
“Mmm … don’t knock those. I love them,” he smiled, and she sighed as he moved away from her momentarily, moved down … and then kissed her full nipple, then gently suckled for a moment, her hand sliding into his no-nonsense salt-and-pepper businessman’s cut, her sigh long and drawn out as he switched to her other breast and gave her more wet, warm, perfect attention.
“Stop. Stop,” she finally whispered. “We can’t start up again. You have to get going. And I have to clean this place up and get something ready for dinner,” she whispered, gently pushing him away.
He sighed too, nodded. Gave her a wistful smile, then swung from the bed, walked around and started gathering his clothes.
She grabbed the washcloth she’d remembered to lay on the nightstand and wiped herself, watching him. Admiring his firm body, his tan legs and arms and chest. The power of him still, even with 55+ years.
When he was dressed, she rose, found her somewhat worn silk dressing gown on the closet door hook and donned it over her nakedness, and walked with him from her room and down the center hallway of the small house, her black stockinged feet making no sound, the folds of the robe opening occasionally to reveal the tops of her thigh-highs and a garter strap.
The home was neat and tidy, if small, though a few toys were scattered on the den floor, and a stack of bills and unopened mail sat on the small kitchen table.
He grabbed his suit coat from the tree in the entryway and slipped it on, then turned back to her. She examined him for lipstick or lovebites … then slipped into his arms, holding him, her head to his chest, and they stood like that, wordless, both of them wanting to speak, both of them knowing there was not much either could say. It was always this way when they had to part.
He kissed the top of her blonde head and then moved back, holding her by the arms, smiling.
“Here,” he said, reaching into his inside coat pocket and drawing out an envelope. He shushed her even as he saw her start to protest, and pressed it into her hand. “Now, don’t argue. I know Brad has had to cut back on his hours,” he said, glancing at the framed photograph on the fireplace mantle, of Terri and Brad on their wedding day, before looking back down at her. “And I know the online teaching is sketchy at best.” He kissed her forehead. “He doesn’t have to know. And your mom would approve, if she knew. Just use it for what you need. Think of it like allowance,” he added, smiling.
She laughed, caressed his so-familiar, so-loved face, a bit rough with afternoon stubble now. She could feel the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks, just like all the times she’d had to come to him for money since college.
“Thanks dad,” she said softly, looking up at him. She took his hand and pressed it to her belly again. “For everything,” she whispered. “I love you … so much.”
He leaned close and kissed his daughter’s cheek, and then her ear.
“I love you too honey … both of you,” he whispered, covering her hand with his own over the swelling of their growing child. “I’ll always take care of you.” Then he kissed her once more, opened the door, smiled again, and left.
She watched him to his car, they waved … and then he drove away.
Sighing, but happy, she shut the door. Then went to the bedroom to change the sheets before showering, secure in the knowledge that her husband wouldn’t be home yet for hours. And achingly happy, as always, while gently soaping her pregnant belly, to know that the child inside her was her father’s. The man she loved above all others.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/jjvfb3/mf_flash_fiction_afternoon_love