Her nipples are raw, because her lovely child uses them each day to nourish herself. But her body is closer to how she remembered it. Her abdomen resembles its familiar shape. Sometimes she leaks. Like now. She is wet. But it is a different kind. Or is it always this way?
She has known him for years, her husband's friend from graduate school. He is a strange fellow. Not as cute now as when she first met him. He says funny, disspiriting things. "She looks like that guy from 'The Shield'." An actor who is pale-complected, practically bald, with a wide face. And her daughter does look like this, in truth, if this daughter could be abstracted from being her daughter being. If she were just a small baby whose hair has not yet grown in, who still has deep blue eyes and fair peau.
Dreaming, this morning, in those few hours she got back as her husband took care of their daughter, her fingers slowly crawled between her legs. Her bedroom at her parents' house, where she'd grown up. This strange fellow laying on her bed as she comes in, wrapped in a towel from a cold summer shower. They'd been fucking all night long.
He sat up, with his head resting on the wall just above the headboard. His right hand stroking his cock. It was reddish and purple, she supposed tired from touching the deepest part of her. Erect.
He came across her face first, hours before, in the dark. She licked the cum from around her mouth. Wiped it off her forehead, cheeks, into her hair. She wanted to smell it and feel it on her. His lips kissed her sex, her flower, her ... cookie? His head between her legs, chin pressed against her pubic hair as she felt his tongue push inside her. Later he would push her face down into the pillow, kneeling behind her, she was on her knees. The head of his cock rubbing hard against her cervix.
"Take off the towel and come here." She let it drop to the ground. But she stood there, apart from the bed. She held her breasts in her hands, cupping her hands over them, twisting her nipples slightly. She had large breasts and she knew what that did to him. He watched and kept stroking. He had filled her ass too with cum, hours before.
"Cunt." She says "okay," smirking. Why does this talk excite her, she wonders. She'd put up with it from noone else. On the subway this word means nothing as it passes along with others into the continuum of noise. She bends over, running her fingers down her legs. Keeps them straight and slowly turns around like that, yet spreading her legs so that her pelvis, her crotch is open to him. She is blooming. They must be red, she thinks, although they are not really sore. Her pussy wants more. She wants more.
