+18 MDNI
when your husband is supposed to be the rational one, you donāt expect to find him standing at the foot of the bed with his cock in his hand.
but thatās where satoru ends up. tank top pushed halfway up his ribs, belt hanging from one loop, pants around his knees. his fist works up and down the fat length of his cock in rough strokes, spit and precum smeared down to his balls. heās staring at you the whole time, at the curve of your hip under the sheet, the flutter of your lashes against your cheek. pregnant. glowing. carrying his baby.
and heās rutting into his hand like some desperate virgin.
the panties he stole from the laundry basket are bunched in his other hand, pressed to his face. he inhales it, shuddering so hard that the flimsy fabric trembles against his nose. your scent has him sobbing out a noise that doesnāt sound him at all.
āfuck, babyāā the words rip out of him, pitched high. āsmell so good... oh fuck, i canāt stop...ā
his cock is obscene. flushed dark, veins raised under the skin, the head slick enough to shine in the faint glow of the bedside lamp. precum drips in heavy strings down his balls, thick enough to coat his knuckles. every stroke drags more slick out of himāschlick, schlick, schlick.
he sucks at the fabric like it could feed him, panting between licks, nose buried deep so he could breathe you in while his tongue works. āgod, i'd eat you out for days if i justāmnhm!āif i just had the chance...ā
his hips snap forward into his own fist, cock smacking his stomach with each thrust. precum splatters onto his tank top, dripping onto the hardwoods.
disgusting. a husband rutting into his fist because heās too scared to touch his pregnant wife.
but satoru canāt stop. heās babbling now, words spilling fast and needy. āwant it so badāfuck, iād worship you, i'd never stopāā
he chokes on a sob as his balls tighten up, cock jerking violently in his grip. the sound he makes is straight up humiliating, a high and euphoric whine.
cum spurts out in heavy ropes, painting his stomach, his abs, fist, and the floor. lewd, thick jets that wonāt stop, spilling like his body is trying to empty years of frustration at once. it drips down the backs of his fingers, strings across his knuckles, sprays his shirt. he gasps, still pumping through it, cock twitching violently.
āahāmnhgātoo much...ā more cum leaks out, drooling down his cock, streaking his thighs. his knees buckle and he braces one hand on the nightstand, forehead dropping against the wood with a hollow thud.
when itās finally over, when the spurts slow to tiny dribbles, heās still shaking so hard he can barely breathe. his cock still pulses against his stomach, half-hard like it doesnāt know how to stop.
and youāre still asleep, lips parted beautifully while he stands there.
oh god, he is so fucked.
