That was our life for the next two months.
Every few days she'd ask me to add a few ounces to the baby that had her stretched so dramatically. She was big enough now that new stretch marks were forming but since the pregnancy hormones weren't there she didn't put on the extra layer at her hips and ass giving her a slightly mishappen look, her belly out of proportion to the rest of her.
She was GORGEOUS.
She got her first period two months after delivering.
When I got home from class she met me with a beer in her hand and the first thing I noticed was that she was, well, not thin. My Nancy will NEVER be thin. I don't think she ever was "thin." But she wasn't the hugely pregnant she had been when I left.
She was smiling.
"I got my period," she said.
"Oh," I replied, not sure how to respond.
She giggled and kissed me.
"Don't worry, Honey," she said, "I won't be saying no to you,"
I kissed her and apologized.
"I'm sorry," I said, "I just didn't know what that meant."
"Well," she said, giggling, "every 28 days..."
I cut her off with another kiss.
"No, Bride-o-mine, it's the first time you had a period since we met," I said, "and I was processing."
She thought about that and laughed.
"You're right," she said and kissed me again.
"What's this?" I asked, laying my hand where she wasn't big and pregnant but, again, very soft with the little incipient belly apron that I could lift and jiggle.
"I needed to get the baby out," she said, "so things could work normally."
She smiled then and said, "I'll call Dr. Jim tomorrow and tell him I'm ready."
"So soon?" I asked.
"Yes, honey, I miss being pregnant for real," she said, "but you'll like it," she added with a grin.
"Like it?" I asked, my hands still exploring, her body so different it was like a new woman in my life.
"The hormones to get me ready make me even hornier than usual," she said.
"Oh, shit," I said, "I wonder if I can qualify for a Viagra prescription."
She laughed and kissed me.
"I'll take care of that," she said, pulling me down for a second kiss.
She kissed me hard this time, arching her body into me, clearly, as she put it so indelicately, "horny."
Nancy's not a small woman, but I'm a pretty strong guy.
I bent, put my left forearm behind her knees, my right across her back, and lifted. She had no choice but to put her arm around my neck, helping. It was that or fall backward.
She squealed a little, giggled, kicked her feet, and kissed me as I carried her into the bedroom.
Okay, I won't deny it. I was panting by the time I got her into the bedroom and kind of unceremoniously dropped her onto the bed, making her bounce a little, and giggle a lot.
"Let me celebrate," I said, my fingers busy at the buttons of the man's shirt she wore, "by unwrapping the package."
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," she hummed, throwing her arms to the side. If I was a religious man I'd think she was symbolizing a crucifixion. Instead, being who I am, I thought she was wanting sex.
I unbuttoned her shirt and laid it open, kissing her belly, nipping at the softness below her navel, and then having her sit up so I could peel the shirt off and undo the hooks of her bra.
Her breasts were heavy and full. She was still lactating after the delivery and I was encouraging her to keep it going. I nursed regularly and now I took the time to play with her nipples until they were hard, standing proud atop tight areolas.
"Damn," she said, giggling, "your mommy weaned you much too young."
I chuckled and took her right nipple into my mouth, suckling, latching on, and massaging her nipple against the roof of my mouth with my tongue, enjoying that first rush of her milk as she let down. I did the other nipple and then started kissing my way down her belly.
I rolled off the bed to stand at the foot while I got her shoes and socks off and then reached for her belt. I got the prong through the hole, the "notch" to be technical, and then unbuttoned and unzipped.
She was giggling as she lifted her hips to help me, and I worked the jeans down, bringing the panties with them.
And once again, I just stopped and stared.
She was a wonderful combination of mom-next-door attractive and slut as she laid there in the man's shirt, open, and nothing else. Her belly, so recently stretched into that monumental roundness was a flap now, covering her
mons
like a heavy flesh-colored blanket decorated with that pattern of very pale, almost white stretch marks.
Her legs were parted and those astonishing inner lips hung free, full and pink.
And nestled in that beautiful tangle of pink skin was a string.
I bent forward to kiss those nether lips but then her scent hit me.
And "hit" is the accurate word.
The difference was so subtle I couldn't begin to name it. Her "normal" womanscent of arousal was there but there was something more, a tiny hint of "spice," or "tang," or something. I guess, when you get down to it, it was the scent of a healthy female mammal in heat.
I understood, not just from watching the family dog or a documentary on television but in my own skull, way down deep where the Orangutangs fought to the death for a pretty girl Orangutang in heat, the drive, the all-consuming
URGE
that drove that kind of behavior.
I understood, at that visceral level, what I had seen when I came upon Fred, my trusty mutt, licking furiously under the tail of his new love before he mounted her.
Because that is exactly what I wanted to do. I had this desire, this
need
, almost this
compulsion
to do what Fred had done. I wanted to immerse myself in that scent. I wanted to breathe her in, to taste her, to bury myself in her and send my seed deep into her meeting the demands of a million generations of evolution.
I bent forward, moving slowly, somehow afraid she would pull away or say "no" or something.
But she didn't. Her legs parted in invitation.
When my nose touched that delicate, private skin, I inhaled deeply almost like I was taking a hit on a pot pipe or maybe a bong. I held my breath, letting her pheromones work into my blood, aware of how damn hard I was.
I was getting lightheaded as the oxygen in my lungs was exhausted before I let that breath out, missing it already.
And like old Fred, I licked her, a long lick starting as far back as I could, my tongue almost touching her anus and then dragging it slowly up those thick soft lips until I found the hard button of her clitoris and lingered there for a few seconds.
Along the way, I felt the string of her tampon with my tongue. I managed, through a demonstration of great self-control, not to lock my teeth on it.
The taste of her hit almost as hard as her scent. I tasted the regular salty oiliness of her natural lubricant but there was something new. There was a hint of coppery blood, but just a hint. There was a hint of salty, slimy mucus, but just a hint. There was a hint of something else, something that combined spice and bitterness, but just a hint.
But there was enough that I knew I wanted more.
This time I did not exercise that self-control and bit down on the string and tugged.
As the tampon came free her womanscent, well, her womaninheatscent struck like a hammer.
And like old Fred, I was licking at her like it was the best sauce the world's greatest chef had ever produced. I was licking and rooting and sucking and her body was responding. Her hips were rocking and she was starting to breathe hard.
When she came it was messy and bloody and delicious. It was the pheromones, I know now, but that first time, well, I think if there had been a psychiatrist standing by to give a quick test I would have come up batshit crazy.
I kept licking and rooting while she came twice more.
When her body relaxed I couldn't resist. I moved forward, my knees inside of her thighs, and slipped inside of her where she was hot and wet and very slick.
