And I did. Eventually mister softy pulls out and with my ass held high I scampered to the other side of the bed and fell off with my face down on the floor and knees on the bed so my torso was at the perfect angle for gravity to move the pool of semen down into my uterus. And yes, I can feel it moving around. I believe I can. I sure know I can feel the pooled up puddle of semen in me. And when you no longer feel in in the vagina, there is only one other place it can be. I did my job well, as did he. The next words my husband, stud, breeder and lover heard was a simple request for a mug of coffee and a straw. After he delivered the coffee I asked him to look and see if I lost much. He said “A few dribbles on the sheets is all. There has to be a lot in there.” I just smiled as I kind of knew that and said “I thank you.”. I’m big on words, heck I write a lot. I do not have words to express the feeling of satisfaction and completeness I had washing over me while I was. I walked to a nearby stone bench and sat awhile in thought, going over the past hour or so in my head, piece by piece, slice by slice, cut by cut. For it was violent, if not physically then surely mentally. Confrontation with HER was certainly a dead man’s gamble, if not anything else. The stone was cold on my skin as I remembered the events to the music of rustling, hundred year-old oak branches… For Five years we’d been ‘friends’… you know the sort, always together, flirting constantly, fighting even more, always on the edge of either killing each other or fucking each other’s brains out. For five years we’d stayed at that impasse, unable to accept either solution as viable, likely, or necessary. Both pretending that our situation was exactly what we wanted, that we were in control. But God, how I wanted to have her! Every minute of sexual experience in my life had been, in my eyes, preparation for a day I was unsure of ever coming. Every lick, suck, touch, caress, tingle,.
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