Sweet Obsession

Two glasses in, and she was hot for cock again, and it was then, while I was bulldogging her from behind, trying to tear a new hole in her pink hot pussy, that she’d cried out, ‘please daddy.’

I almost stopped fucking her then until she looked over her shoulder at me, and I saw the look in her eyes. She thought I would reject it, this new side of her, but I’d smiled, leaned over, and nipped her lip, “please what, sweet baby?”

Now she looked up at me all innocent with her hair shining around her head like a halo, her eyes dreamy with sex, and lips still swollen from my kisses. My eyes traveled lower to the most fuckable tits I’ve ever seen, and my cock jerked inside her. Will it always be like this? So many twists and turns to my multifaceted wife.

One minute I want to hold and cherish her as my most precious possession, and the next, I want to fuck the shit out of her until her pussy hurts, and I have to use my tongue for an hour at least to give her comfort. Rough isn’t the word for what I did to her; debauch comes to mind.

It wasn't my fault that she’d looked at me with those eyes, and I lost my shit. I threw her legs over my shoulders and slam fucked her through two orgasms before grinding my pelvis into hers to stimulate her clit and keep her on the edge. Then I pulled out, flipped her onto her hands and knees, and pushed her legs together before planting my feet in the bed behind her.

With my legs on either side of hers and her waist caught between my hands, I plowed into her belly hard and fast as she submitted to me. I didn’t have to tell her what I wanted; she just canted her ass ever so slightly, tilting her pussy’s hole up so that it was an easy glide into her hot tunnel.

She moves her ass like a dream when I take her from behind like this, and I always become mesmerized by it. Now was no different. Coiling and undulating like a snake as she took my cock for a ride. Her pussy juiced like a busted pipe as I leaked precum inside her. I know she’s going to be sore when I get through with her, but until I can find a better way to assuage my insane lust without hurting her, she’s gonna have to take it.

I came not long after and, as with all the other times before, reminded myself too late that she wasn’t on the pill. Shit! I emptied my balls and let her come down from the shakes before pulling out of her. Liquid gushed from her pussy and ran down her legs while I watched.

I left the bed and headed for the bathroom to run a nice hot bath for the both of us. Another midnight bath where she rested back against my chest and postulated about her new status. She refuses to talk of anything beyond this hotel room up high over the Las Vegas strip because she’s afraid of anything marring our happy union, but what she could not know is that I’d harm anyone who tried.

“Are you still happy I told you?” Her voice was soft and unsure, always needing reassurance from me.

“Yes, very!” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head as my mind went back once again to the past, a less distant one. This one was less than forty-eight hours, I think. Or I guess it started a little bit earlier than that.

It started when I was getting ready for my yearly trip to the desert. Every year since she was thirteen, I’d take Madeline to my cabin near the Mojave for her birthday. I took her there on a hunch because it was out of the way, and there were no neighbors to bother her since she was having a hard time settling in with her mother gone.

She’d fallen in love with the place, and so we made it a thing, and we never missed. She’d explore and play in the little stream that ran along the property with our old dog Jake; well, he was mine before she came along and, like everything else, stole him right from out under me.

After those jaunts and the time I spent solely on her, she started coming back to life and turned out to be a very brilliant child with a heart of gold, and that’s all I’d seen her as; a child—someone who needed me and who I’d vowed to be there for.

As she grew older, our visits never came to an end. Once I’d asked her if she wanted to stop. I think she was sixteen then and had a houseful of friends, as I learned every weekend when they gravitated to mine. But she’d adamantly objected and claimed she would do this every year until she died. When I jokingly asked her if she’d still do it after she was married, she’d gotten this forlorn look on her face but never answered.