Pregnant sex with my ex was the best sex – Of Milk and Cum [MF]

*Previously…*

>I slowly withdraw my hand from her cunt and my cock from her mouth, and lie down and cuddle her, her body still twitching with the afterglow.
>
>Despite how erotic this encounter had just been, I hadn’t come, and I was planning on the usual sad toilet wank.
>
>But then she said… “We’re not done yet”.

“What do you mean?”, I ask, “you’ve already come though?”

“Well, I want to come again, and I need you inside me.”

Well, this has never happened before, so I try to push the boundaries a bit further, feeling cocky, perhaps.

“Tell me that again, but dirtier.”

Her eyes narrow, and she tosses her long brunette hair contemptuously.

“I’ve let you talk filthy tonight Ruadh*, but I won’t talk like that for you. Now roll over onto your back.”

**I get a made up name too.*

I roll over, my erection wavering between hopeful and confused. She sighs her disapproval at my penis’s lack of commitment and tells me, “Spread your legs.”

…What in the actual fuck is happening here, I ask myself, nothing like this has ever happened before with her…

Pregnant sex with my ex was the best sex. [MF]

My ex-wife Fiona had a… complicated relationship with her sexuality. And her self-image. And, well, a complicated relationship with Jesus, which really didn’t really help things in any of these areas. Ever felt like you were being cuckolded by the Lord? Or just me?

But anyway, to give you an idea of why I’m telling you this true story about the pregnant sex, I should describe our normal sex. (And hopefully, sharing the embarrassing bits will help establish my veracity, I mean after all, who would go on the Internet and just tell lies? To quote a great webcomic (SMBC), this is “proof by mortification”)

Our regular sex followed a rather specific routine.

1. Every three to six months, she tells me she desires sex.

2. I rub her clit through her clothing for 15 – 20 minutes until she’s sufficiently aroused to remove her clothing. I’m not allowed to kiss her, or touch her breasts during this. (I may have developed formidable forearm muscles during this marriage.)

3. Wait, no, hang on, before she takes off her clothing, first I have to turn off the lights. All the lights. And make sure the curtains are properly closed! Okay, now she can remove her clothing.