Page 92 of Big Daddy

“We’re through here,” he announces, moving around the room to shake hands with the clients, and I follow suit, eager to get the fuck out of this conference room.

Having Winnie in an office next to mine is such a great idea.

In theory.

Because in actuality, I can’t keep my filthy old man mind off of her. Before she was pregnant, it was largely the same but I did have small pockets of focus and productivity. Now? Knowing my son is growing inside of her? I can’t stop thinking of her. I can’t stop wanting to be near and next to her.

“Did you catch that?” Ken whispers in my ear after the others have huddled at the door to exit.

I shake my head. “What?”

She looks at the glob of businessmen, then back to me. “They’re having a business lunch. Do you want me to add two more seats, for you and Winnie?”

“Fuck no,” I hiss, reaching to adjust my cock before realizing I can’t do that just yet. Thank God I’ve begun going into meetings with my cock tucked into my belt. Otherwise, my daydreams would have me pitching tents for a group of non-campers. “Winnie and I are having lunch in her office.”

Kennedy’s cheeks fill with pink, and I let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry Ken, honestly. I thought the door was locked. I promise, that won’t happen again,” I tell her, apologizing yet again for her walking in on something that was relatively harmless, butsomething all three of us knew was leading to something very filthy.

I’ve become obsessed with all of Winnie, but her feet milk me in a way that spins me out, I swear. Kennedy popped into her office one day when I was on my knees next to Winnie, who was sitting at her desk. I had one of her heeled feet in my hand, just about to pop her Louboutin off and knead her feet. I love massaging them, knowing how they’re going to work my cock. It’s foreplay giving her a foot rub, I swear.

Ken knew it was gonna turn into something because I am not a man who gets on my knees. Not with that look in my eye, at least.

“It’s fine. I didn’t see anything,” she says, both of us leaving reality unspoken. Normally I’d say she just walked in on a man rubbing his pregnant girlfriend’s feet.

Normally.

But everyone loves Winnie. Including Kennedy. And the two of them have had girl lunches and long dinners, and Winnie has given Kennedy sexual advice on ways to spice up her eight-year marriage that has gone stagnant. She advised Ken to think outside the box, and suggested a few things, including feet.

Kennedy is smart.

And that is why she is currently flushing.

“Okay, well can I send an order out? Should I ask Winnie what she’s in the mood for?” Ken asks as the last of the men finally filter out.

I shake my head, licking my lips as saliva floods the hollow beneath my tongue. I know what I’m eating and I won’t have time for food. “No thanks, Ken. I appreciate it, though.”

I move for the door until I notice Kennedy isn’t moving.

“What?”

She smiles with a little shrug, finally moving toward me. “I’m just glad you met Winnie. You’re so much nicer now.”

“Slow and sweet for me today?” she begs, pushing the strap of her tank off her shoulder, exposing dewy, golden skin.

I nod, my mouth completely fucking dry. I’ve seen her naked in every position imaginable but watching her strip always stops me in my tracks. “Jesus, Winnie, you’re a goddamn Queen. You’re so fucking gorgeous.” I grab my cock through my slacks, shaking the rigid length with a groan. “Look what you do to me, and you aren’t even naked yet.”

Her full lips curve into a seductive smile, her curly hair up in a messy bun that I fucking adore. When she starts to shimmy her tank top down, first exposing swollen, bare breasts to me, my heart rate jumps. Her tits are so much bigger already, at just five months pregnant. I can’t wait to see them when she’s full term, and better yet, nursing. I grip my shaft through the Italian fabric, tugging myself like a horny teen.

I know what’s coming next, and I stroke a few times extra, mouth parted, eyes fixed. Another push and the tank is banded at her hips, putting her beautiful belly on full display.

My boy is in there.

We found out at sixteen weeks; we’re having a boy. I’m going to have a son. Winnie is giving me a son. I still get emotional thinking about this season of my life, and how lucky I’ve become.

“Fuck, baby, that belly is so hot,” I groan, no longer satisfied with touching myself over my clothes. After getting my pesky belt open and my fly down, I reach into my pants and free the monster, tugging on him a few times until opaque cream bubbles up then drips from the head.

Winnie loves watching me touch myself, and in the early weeks of pregnancy, when she was sicker than a dog, sometimes she’d just want me to jerk off for her. In forty-eight years I’d never done that before, but I fucking love watching her watch me.

She sighs, curling her pointer finger at me, coaxing and calling me toward her, nipples stiffening.

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