Paint (MF, preg)

"She's doing it again."  I told Bill, more nonchalantly this time.  After all,
I had watched her routine at least twelve times by now.  I left good neighbor
Bunny to her strip tease and returned to my painting.

"Doing what again?"  Bill asked, as if he didn't know.  I guess he thought I
would forget he had watched Bunny's routine at least twelve times by now, too.
Standing right next to me, no less.  My paintbrush hit the wall with a wet
splat followed by the shush-shushing of my up and down strokes.

"You know.  Shimmying up and down the tether ball pole.  I swear, one day the
thing will tip over and that tire full of cement will roll over her.  Bet she
won't look so cute then, all bandaged up, limping and shit."  I shrugged,
trying to sound unconcerned.  In all honesty I didn't care that Bunny saw fit
to strip buck naked in the relative privacy of her backyard and bump and grind
over the lawn equipment and recreational devices.  And, I knew she was only a
temporary fixture, house-sitting for the Parsons while they were away for a
month.  Splat, shush-shush, the paintbrush argued.

"I'll be damned."  Bill said, peering out the nursery window.

"What?"  I asked, none too eagerly I hoped.

"She's got a new prop."  Bill shook his head, a smile crinkling the corner of
his mature and utterly handsome blue eyes.

"It's not the cat, is it?  I should call the SPCA if it is."  I stepped towards
the window.

"Not a cat."

"Oh dear.  Do you think that's safe?  I mean, should we warn her?"  I asked.

"And spoil the show?  Nah.  She can't be that dumb."  Bill said, stepping back
a step from the window sill.  Good, at least his nose wasn't pressed against
the glass anymore.

Bunny was standing on the little plastic seat of the Parsons' children's swing.
 With each pass of her not too petite frame the little metal and plastic swing
arched higher and swooped deeper.  Bunny had her head thrown back, undulating
her hips, kicking a leg out here and there.  Her breasts, to-die-for even I had
to admit,  rose and fell in fleshy waves with each pass of chain link by rusted
metal pole.  The legs of the swing set cleared the ground by at least a foot.
Bunny laughed and continued grinding on.  I wondered what music she was
listening to.

Splat, shush-shush.  "Honey, the paint is thickening, drying up a little.  I
would like to get the nursery finished before the birth.  Two months isn't that
far off."  Maybe I was a little jealous.  We both knew what Bunny did at her
evening job.  Having an all-over tan was something of a job requirement for her
I supposed.  I just didn't imagine she would practice at the same time she
sunbathed.  And, my once svelte body and trim thighs had thickened immensely.
Pregnancy was a wonderful thing but it had its drawbacks when the neighbor was
a Barbie-doll look alike who enjoyed fucking the garden hose on a daily basis.
 Okay.  I was jealous.

"Put those eyes back in your head and come over here."  I demanded of Bill.

He snorted, glancing quickly over his shoulder at me.  He did a double-take.

"I could use a hand.  There is a spot or two I'm having trouble reaching."
Brazenly I ran the paintbrush down my bare skin, skimming neck, heavy breasts,
taut rosy nipples and hard ball of a belly.  Our child rolled over.

Pat-shush.  The chill paintbrush whispered over my heated skin.  I stared into
my husband's eyes and knew I had him.    Yes, that brought me satisfaction.
See if Bunny could do this, I thought.  Another confession:  Bunny had
succeeded in arousing something inside of me that wanted to fuck my husband in
a very primal way.

I watched Bill as he stepped around the ladder, stopping to toss his clothing
on the third rung.  God, he was gorgeous, especially after all these years.
His shorts and jockeys slid down his slim hips, pooling on the bright blue tarp
protecting the carpet.  My eyes watched him hungrily, my hands barely able to
hold back from reaching for him.  I fiddled with the paintbrush a little more,
dabbing pale pink on my cheek.  His left hand reached for me first, his thumb
smearing that spot of pink on my cheek, dragging it down my jaw and to my chin.
 He kissed me then.  A tender kiss, very sweet and generous.  Giving.  He
wanted to give me more than was conceivable, his touch told me again.  Then
things broke down and became savage.

"I love you."  Bill said.

"I know" was all I managed to get past my lips before he pushed me against the
wall with his body.  Gently yet with sweet force.  Viscous paint tickled my
naked skin.  It fueled me.  One hand smacked into the fresh paint, smearing the
pink hue down, down, down.  I marked Bill with pink before lifting one leg to
his hip, grinding into him like no other women ever will.

"Like this, Bill.  I want it like this."  I turned to face the wall placing
both hands against the tackiness.  I leaned over, exposing my wetness to him.
He traversed my back with his tongue and lips, paying special attention to
every cleft and curve.  I pressed into the wall, breasts flat against pink,
groaning and crying out, begging for him to fuck me.   I felt the slick head of
his cock rub against my clit.  Slowly and around, up and down my slit until I
couldn't stand it anymore.  I pushed against him.  He pushed against me.  "You
fucker. . . put it in."  I reached behind me with one hand, my cheek pressed
against the wall.  My paint-stained hand found his hip, hard and muscular.  I
dug in with my fingers, urging him closer.

"You're so demanding today, little one."  Bill whispered huskily in my ear,
nibbling the lobe with wolfish pride.

"Little one?  Haven't heard that in a while."  I managed a half-grunt,
half-laugh as I slammed against him.  Or he slammed against me.  At times like
this our coupling could be mistaken for a battle of some kind.

Pat, thump-thump.  Pat, thump-thump.  Bill continued his passionate assault.  I
met every stroke with a groan or a cry of "oh."  Bill pushed inside me one last
time, tensing, digging his long fingers into my tangled red hair.  I felt his
breath by my ear as he found release.  I took pleasure in the heavy splash of
hot semen inside me, my own contractions causing some to drip down between my
thighs. My elbow and forearm bumped the wall so many times during our fuck,
stippling little craters in the fresh paint.  We would laugh at that later,
along with the smaller craters made by my rigid nipples.  We debated on whether
or not to leave them alone instead of covering them up.  We finally agreed,
while entwined sweaty and paint-stained on the crisp plastic tarp, finally
coming to the realization that we were covered with quickly drying paint, to
leave one.  Just one. One sweet reminder of how our passion changed us forever.