As soon as the tension left her body her hips started again. She was sweating now, her body a sheen, her nipples running, her nose running, her breath in shuddering little gasps. She was beautiful.
With the third orgasm, she sort of collapsed, bending down, her belly pushing down on me.
And now I COULD reach, so my fingers wrapped in her hair and twisted, making her cry out.
And giving her her fourth orgasm.
She was silent as her pussy clenched, almost pulling me in. Her mouth latched onto my throat like a damn vampire and I LIKED it. I pulled, no, I YANKED on her hair, and she bit, making me yell.
I raked my nails up her back, hard, deliberately scratching, making her release my neck to throw her head back and cry out.
And then it was my turn to strike. I bent my neck and covered the thick muscles at her neck with my mouth and bit down making her yell and cum again, very liquid this time, soaking my balls and thighs.
“Cum for me, baby,” she panted, “please, baby, cum for me, fill me up.”
I slapped her ass, both hands, trying for right where she sat, as hard as I could given the awkward position. She yelped and came again, but she was tiring now, none of those spectacular contractions.
“Make me cum,” I said, my own breathing a little ragged, “get that ass moving,” and I slapped it again.
She lifted herself onto her arms, her big boobs dribbling onto my chest, and got her hips moving again, gasping and grunting with each thrust, obviously tired.
“Cum for me,” grunt, thrust.
“Cum for me,” grunt, gasp, thrust.
“Cum for me,” grunt, gasp, thrust.
“Please, PLEASE, baby, cum for me, fill me up, PLEEAAASSSE,” she finished on a rising note and I surrendered my control.
My ejaculation was hard and strong.
She settled onto me, her breathing a bubbly, and she sort of coughed, spraying me with saliva and mucus.
“Thank you,” she said, “Oh honey, thank you.”
When she relaxed onto me her weight was an erotic pressure. I welcomed it, my hands on her back now, caressing, being gentle, whispering “I love you.”
Eventually, I softened and slipped out with an audible little splashing sound, and she rolled off of me.
She was even more beautiful than usual like that. Her face was flushed, her breathing still a little ragged, hair a mess, nipples dribbling. She was the epitome of a female right then. I wanted to nurse, but I was more interested, right then, in her faux baby.
“Can I add some more to your baby?” I asked.
She took my hand and laid it on her belly. Her skin was tight. Actually, her skin was impossibly tight.
“Another time, honey,” she said and I thought I could hear real regret in her voice, “but this is to be a birthing weekend and my body needs time to adjust.” She giggled, “well, to stretch,” she added.
“Here, baby,” she said, lifting and offering her breast.
So my breakfast came from her body. I nursed each breast until I was full thinking that I could get used to this.