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Bess

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Bess - her erotic love story, her twist in the tail...

Image: "Bess and Johnny in Love" - Jonathan Borba at Unsplash.

Submitted: November 01, 2019

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Submitted: November 01, 2019

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Bess

 

Bess was heavy with child. Her breasts were swollen with milk. Her abdomen was distended. She slumped on the wicker chair, feeling her baby prodding her stomach. Her man marvelled at how she’d push herself to the limits of her own endurance to birth her miracle, her new life. Johnny treasured her, cherished her, every pounding heartbeat, every sublime kiss of her. He lay a bouquet of silvered roses across her ample lap, and crouched beside her.

They had found their way upstairs to Bess’s pink bedroom. The wedding cake bed with its nest of soft cuddly toys. The changing room with its quaint pine dressing table, and pink en suite. The snow-white cot, rocking horse and cradle. Bedecked in pink. As soon as she fell pregnant, Bess instinctively knew her baby was a girl. Meg she’d call her, after her best friend. She took her maternity leave knowing that she wouldn’t return to work, wanting to devote herself exclusively to her child.

They’d found a perfect love, a love that was all-consuming, unselfish and respectful. Bess was happy. He was all she had ever wanted in a man - romantic, passionate, caring and considerate.

‘I love you so much, Bess,’ he told her.

‘And I love you,’ she said, her eyes misting with tears.

She took her man’s hand, wrapping her slim, bony fingers around his fist, and held him to her swollen belly. Bess was enormous: the skin on her bulge was stretched, a brown line ran down her tummy from her protruding navel into the swathe of teak hair that sprouted profusely, hiding her folds. She rubbed his fingertips over the round of her stomach, so that Johnny could feel her baby’s kick inside.

He beamed with pride as he felt Meg reaching out for her father. Her tiny fists pummelling the lining of her mother’s womb in a desperate effort to touch the man who seeded her mum with the gift of life. Johnny stared intently at Bess’s face, as she rubbed him over her belly in sensuous circles. He felt her lightly stroke the back of his hairy hand, seeking his reassurance.

Bess was exhausted. She closed her eyes and savoured the smell of his face as he moved close to her. Felt his lips gently kissing her eyelids. The dark welts of tiredness that dwelt beneath. Kiss her hollow cheeks. Her turned-up nose. The subtle brush of his mouth against her pursed lips. His breath on her chin. The wet tip off his lambent tongue licking her gilded neck.

Bess stirred, feeling a delicious tingle inside her, the glorious hardening that she hadn’t felt for months. Johnny’s tongue left a line of saliva down her chest, licking the salty sweat from the moist fjord that separated her breasts. She became excited. Pushing his hand inside her coarse white lacy knickers. Guiding his fingertips through her hair, parting her so that he could feel her. Bess felt the roses slide off her fat thigh. She suddenly felt alarmed by her thoughts, knowing how she might gratify herself with his tender touch. As he thrilled for her.

Johnny sat up, brushing the shock of teak hair back from Bess’s face, and kissed her fully on the lips. She felt his eager tongue enter her wet red mouth, felt his tip, tickling the back of her throat. He rubbed her furiously. Bess gasped, struggling to control the thrill of her arousal. She slipped his fingers out of her panties, pushed his raging tongue out of her salivating mouth, and commanded him,

‘Strip for me, Johnny!’

Bess admired her man’s muscular physique: the hairy chest, as he unbuttoned his shirt, the pert bum, as he dropped his work trousers, the ramrod-rigid, rearing, cockerel that crowed for her that day.

She was still wearing her matching lacy white bra and knickers. She stood up, dizzied, blinded, by her unexpected rampant lust, and said,

‘I think we should go and lie on the bed now, don’t you?’

Johnny, stretched with torsion, hobbled over to the tidy bed and lay down at its centre. He watched expectantly as Bess gradually slipped her bra straps off her shoulders, then uncupped each of her pendulous breasts, leaving her bra hanging loose to tease him. She pushed a heavy breast up to her mouth for him and tickled her dark flat nipple with the tip of her tongue. Johnny tried hard not to touch himself.

‘God Bess, but you’re beautiful!’ he cried, awaiting the moment of her intimate revelation with baited breath.

Bess slipped out of her knickers. Her explicit act of reveal exposed the profound beauty of her twitching bulge, the impressive contour of her breasts, the divine arch of her back, her fleshy buttocks.

‘Lie back,’ she whispered.

Johnny lay back, in awe of her, as she clambered on top of him, sinking her belly comfortably onto his chest so that he could feel Meg’s kick against his pounding heart. She was run down. He gently rubbed the furuncle, the nasty boil on the cusp of her left buttock, making his woman wince. Her body shuddered.

There were sounds: a door crashed open downstairs, footsteps on the staircase, a drunken voice,

‘I’m home, Bess!’

That was when her waters broke…


© Copyright 2019 HJFURL. All rights reserved.

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