Not Eve

I said, “Just come in me.” So you did.

I feel like Eve because you listened to me. I know you weren’t ready for me to be pregnant again. But I do feel your love for me in how you’ve responded to this unexpected turn in our lives. Every time you seem to be starting to feel stressed or resentful, I know it’s time to reconnect with you. I used to proudly refuse to be intimate with you in these times. Now, with humility, I attempt to make a connection with you.

Like everyone in the age of cell phones, we struggle to connect throughout the day. We are really bad at it. I actually use sex as a tool. Some women use it to bargain, and I pity them. I’ve found it so useful as a last resort to connect to my husband when I know we’ve both shown our humanity and failed to do so. It’s so endearing when I’ve taken your cum into me and your anger dissipates. You melt for me. Your hardness becomes softness. I never feel more loved than when I realize the power I have over you, consensually given, by your love for me.

This week has been really hard, I think. First some bad news, and now you’re sick. You’re snoring. I hope to add some softness to it. I wait for the opportunity to do what I can to make you feel better. In the morning, I plan on trying to kindle your passions for me. Maybe after a good night’s sleep, you’ll have enough energy to share with me. I know I really want to take it all out of you.

My pregnancy is making me worry, too. I don’t know if I can comfortably have your body over me anymore. My favorite thing is to feel you on top of me, covering me, inserting yourself with all your manhood, wrapping yourself up into me… It’s going to be different making love. I know it will take a bit more foreplay to get me excited to be on top of you.

I’ll have to rely on giving you more blowjobs, which always makes me gush with wetness quickly. I love to use my mouth on you. I think my nerve endings run straight from my mouth to my vagina. Every time I suck on any part of you, I can feel my insides better. It makes me tighten; it just electrifies my entrance. I don’t know, I just feel it more.

And there’s something about getting into my head, trying to pleasure you, and trying to make myself look hot to you while I do it. Maybe it borders on love for myself, because I love being hot enough to make you feel hot. That’s why I love sucking your cock. It makes me feel so ready to be fucked by you. So, I don’t mind so much—I just hope my nausea stays well-controlled.

I might not be able to swallow your cock without gagging. I’ll have to use my tongue more instead of deep-throating you. It’s a good thing you can still insert yourself inside me, maybe with even more abandon, since there’s no concern about getting pregnant. I wouldn’t want to deprive you of the feeling of your cock being swallowed up by me somehow.

Maybe my filled breasts will make up for some of the ways I can’t satisfy you at this time. I actually feel like that will help me to become aroused also, if you pay some attention to my titties. I ask you every time, “Is there milk yet?” Maybe I stand a better chance at breastfeeding if you help prime my breasts for it. Can’t you just suck on them every day? I guess suckling can be tedious to anyone who has full use of their limbs and has other options. Regardless, I’ll try to tempt you to it.

Maybe I need some new bras. Not nursing bras, but like, “Here are my titties,” bras. That could be fun for us.

There are more things I want from you. Sorry about the demanding state of my body. I want you to hug me. Every time you give me a hug, my knees go weak. My body aches for yours. I’m instantly ready for you. I melt. Why is it so difficult to do something so easy? People get so wrapped up in the business of the day, and we’re far from immune. I need to be wrapped up in you more often. You know I’m just a puddle for you when you come up to me and hug me and kiss me.

On the one hand, it’s good you don’t do it to me too much. I would have no more sway in our relationship. You would have complete power over me. Puddle. On the other hand, you might get frustrated with me less, because it would encourage my submissive nature to come out. I don’t have three hands, but we would get pregnant more often, too, which could be a problem. Just hug me a little, so that I can burn for you, so that I can sit on top of your cock with enough desire to satisfy myself—and you, in the process.

You know, even though my favorite position is off the table, I still want to scream, moan and cry out for you. I still want to melt your heart. So, do these things for me. I’ll try to make you do them. So, blindly listen to me because I’m your woman. I’ll make sure you won’t regret it. My name’s not Eve.

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