Joy and Euphoria

Jesus.
I mean really.
Zi is so beautiful and perfect and hot and sexy and unique and ...
I feel whole and complete since I've been with him.

He just left. We had had our "pretend" sex and had laid naked in each other's arms for hours. After one 'session', I'm lying on his stomach, his cock between my breasts.

"I want to have your baby," I whisper.

"Really?" He is almost has fear in his voice. "Look at me."

I look in his eyes. They are slightly red from the late hour and the emotion now splayed across his face.

"Do you really?" he asks.

"Yes."  I nod. "I don't know how to make that a reality, but yes." I say this because DH doesn't want anymore children and this is one of the reasons having an open marriage fills him with dread. "I'm too old," I add in for good measure. (I'm about to turn 37.)

"You're not too old."

"I mean it might be too dangerous. For the baby, I mean."

He is stroking my hair and holding my face. He looks in my eyes and then at my hair in his fingers. He nods at my words, but is still smiling at me in an almost reverential way.

"It doesn't matter. Just that you said it is good enough. I can already see him. He'll have ... he or she will have your blue eyes --"

"And your black hair," I interject.

We name them.

Isamar if it's a girl and Faiz if it's a boy.




I want it.



During a 'session' soon after that conversation he said, "Do you want me to make you pregnant? Is that what you want?" And god help me, my pussy squeezed and I gasped. 'Course, he was also breathing in my ear and kissing my neck.

And his cock was rubbing up against my clit.

So yeah.
I gasped.

But. I think. That it was really because of the thought of me pregnant with his baby turned me on.