Zariah
April
Vassili and I are a month shy of married for a year, and so far we’re content making up for time lost. Once in awhile, I contemplate the phone conversations and text messages we had while I was off at college. Why hadn’t I given him the time of day sooner? Shame on me for not cultivating this love.
I'd been young, focused, and sadly, afraid of love or rather afraid of what my parents modeled as far as marriage. Now my belly has grown large, at seven months, and there is nothing that can stop our love.
Aside from this juicy burger from Fatburger that I'm currently inhaling —and it ain’t the baby fat size either, I can hardly breathe from the physical torment I endured while running upstairs a few minutes ago. At the sound of Vassili’s motorcycle entering the garage, I ran. He’s home way too soon. Now, I’m laying in the empty oval Jacuzzi tub of our master bathroom. Please God, let Vassili stay downstairs. I feel like a dirty little cheat…my prayer fades as I eye the cheeseburger, wondering how to shove the rest into my mouth. Enjoying calories is the ultimate form of disloyalty when my husband is cutting down to make weight for a fight he has tomorrow.
“Mmmm…” I giggle and moan, and have to catch my breath as our daughter sticks to my rib. A spurt of kicking goes off in my tummy. “Enjoy your food, Natasha,” I chuckle.
“Zariah,” Vassili calls from down the hall.
“Um-hmmm, be right there.” I down a big, juicy bite and grab a few Rally’s French fries, their delicious coating of crisp salt, which actually got kind of cold while waiting in the Fatburger line.
“Zariah, baby, we’ve got a problem.” His voice nears.
“Alright, I’m on the toilet. It’s scary—I wouldn’t advise you come in.” I frown in disgust at my choice of words, while shoving the French fries behind a large candle and the cheeseburger into a tiny wicker basket that I keep the bath salts and oils in. Grabbing the marble ledge, I start to get up. “I'm com—”
“Oh, you are full of shit,” he says, thick muscular body in the doorway. “You're in trouble.”
“No, I'm not.” I freeze, eyes wide. Is there tiny specks of salt on my face? Daring not to touch my mouth, I sink back into the tub. “I just love this bathtub. Do you know how many times I bragged that my husband bought me a house for Christmas and the bathtub is the best?”
He folds his beefy arms, it's no longer intimidating to me. I know his secret. All those muscles were meant to love and protect me. “Okay, so you got into the bathtub. With no water in it?”
I nod.
“While fully clothed?” He cocks an eyebrow.
“Of course. Natasha loves it when I sit in here and read her a book.”
“What book?”
I grab the ledge. “I forgot to get the book. Pregnancy brain, Vassili.”
“Allow me,” he walks over. “Yeah right, ‘pregnancy brain.’ You chew my head off if I say you've forgotten something. But this is cute.”
“Shouldn't you be sweating pounds?”
“Yes. However, I’ve texted and texted asking how the painting is coming along in the nursery. Intuition warned me to drop by. I don't trust my wife.”
“You think I'm cheating?” Though joking, I exasperate the words while pointing at all this belly!
“Eating cheeseburgers and fries, a day before my weigh in, is as good as me catching you in the tub with another man.”
“I'll keep that in mind,” I grunt, finally hefting my leg over the bathtub wall. “No help needed,” I quickly say, but Vassili offers a hand.
I bust up laughing. “Aw, now I feel bad. You help me out of the tub and I cheat. Do you still love me? I saved the cheeseburger wrapper. I'll let you lick it. Can’t be any more than twenty calories. It's all yours.”
“Oh, you'll let me lick it,” his voice lowers into a delicious growl. In an instant, my sex drive is revved. His eyes devour my over-ripe brown skin, zeroing in on my breasts, which have increased two sizes over the span of this pregnancy. My nipples rub harshly against my cotton shirt, eager for attention. Excitement consumes me as he pulls the t-shirt from over my head. I’ve gained so much weight, mostly in my belly. It's astonishing as Vassili hefts me up with ease and places me on the counter between the double sinks.
Vassili grabs my tits, while nipping at my earlobe. His warm breath titillating across my skin as his mouth works its way to mine. He tongues me before biting my jaw and continuing to descend. A slick warm trail reaches my swollen breasts, he lifts up one tit, licks the curve of it and twirls his tongue around the stiff flesh at the tip. My hands roam through his wavy hair, softly tugging at his Mohawk as his teeth sink into my nipple.
“Shit,” I breathe against the top of his hair. Damn, I can have an orgasm so easily these days.
While offering the other nipple a rough nibbling, Vassili’s hand sneaks beneath my skirt and grazes against the lace of my thong. I bite the taut muscle of his shoulder. My pussy offers a sweet stamp of approval, before his fingers arrive at my swollen lips. I moan deep and throaty as his fingers pump inside of me.
Not a minute later, an orgasm funnels out of me in a torrent of never ending spasms that squeeze at his fingers.
“You’re so horny,” he murmurs, kissing my mouth again. Then something slick glides across my cheek. It’s his saturated fingers. “Your pussy has never tasted so good,” he groans into my mouth, “Can I lick it?”
“Yessss.”
“Good, I would love to. You have the sweetest fucking lips, Zariah.” He rubs the juicy gloss of his fingers along my mouth and then proceeds to lick it off before tonguing me.
Vassili moves to his knees, and his tongue dives straight into my kitty. As easy as I am these days, my legs spasm on contact. I lean my head back against the mirror and grip the cool marble ledge.
“Don't tense, baby.”
“Okay… okay…” I hiss, toes curled as he sucks up my juices.
“Zar,” he leans back on his calves, looking me in the eye. “Don't tense. You want me to taste this pussy don't you?”
I nod vigorously, throat clogged. Tears of ecstasy clouding my gaze.
“Then don't tense.” After the command, he softens it up with one of those rare smiles before going back in. As soon as his lips touch my swollen ones, I start to pant heavily. Fuck a G-spot, just throwing his lips to my pussy is the code to bring on another orgasm.
In this moment, I've forgotten about my never-ending hunger. My puffy nose and fat belly no longer mean a thing. My husband’s mouth is my all.
He stands and places my legs around his waist. “See, no tensing, sweetheart.”
While leaning back against the mirror, I wish I had the strength and the ability to push up and rub his abs. All this tummy is in the way.
Vassili fills me up slowly, the thick ridges in his cock massaging my insides. It’s so good I have to bite my lip.
“Best pussy I ever had,” he declares in that succulent, slow Russian accent.
“Kiss me,” I beg.
He continues to slide in and out slowly, filling me to the brink, then he leans in to tastes my lips.
“Mmmm,” I groan as a mini orgasm coats his cock with more cum.
“You like that?” He cocks an eyebrow, rubbing my stomach and pushing in and out. He looks down at it. Damn, damn, damn, I really want to see his cock.
“It's pretty, Zar. Your pussy is eating my cock. It's so pretty…”
I whimper with longing, another flow of tears falling down my cheeks.
“Fuck, beautiful, I hate it when you cry.”
“I know… can't help it.”
“You. Can't. Help. It?” His voice is low, pearly white teeth digging into his bottom lip, as he slams into me with each word. Cocky ass. He's gorgeous. I never knew how much until this moment. Vassili slows down the rhythm again. “Do you know how hard it is for me not to cum right now, Zar? Every time you cum, I have to stop myself from following you over.” He says.
I love it when he talks to me as we make love. It's beautiful. I sniffle more tears.
“I just keep thinking… please her. Please my wife.”
I eat every word as my body percolates for him. “Cum with me, Vassili.”
“You ready?” He arches a brow.
“Yes!” I scream as he thrusts into me. Harder, and harder. Each time his balls clap against my ass, my pussy is so wet it sings.
###
An hour later, we’ve showered and made it to bed. It’s late evening, and I won’t move from my spot, I can’t move. My heartbeat has slowed, breasts splayed across his, as I lay on my side, leg wrapped between his. In a daze of ultimate comfort, I nudge my nose into Vassili’s neck.
“You breathing me in?” he asks.
Silence. Utter embarrassing silence.
“I've been told that I have that super athletic funk,” he laughs. “Make sure you aren't made delirious from breathing me in.”
I laugh so hard my side aches. Vassili has taught me the true definition of love and marriage. I flutter my eyelashes to stop the burning tears from falling.