Page 39 of A Very Grumpy Father's Day
I only know it has been a good time.
The best playtime I have ever had.
Maddie reaches down and begins exploring a part of me that doesn’t get enough attention during our usual sexual activities. She has found the source of all my sexual energy, the root of all good and evil. I raise my hips and writhe around, trying to stop the contractions. I feel like I’m levitating. “Jesus. Maddie.” I’m afraid if I come now I’ll blind her with a geyser of baby batter.
“Wait,” she says. “Wait. I want you to come in my mouth.”
I think I’m having a stroke.
A really awesome full-body one.
My neck is like taffy, but I try to glance down at her. Maddie is nestling between my legs. She makes eye contact with me as she draws the tip of her tongue up the underside of my shaft while cupping my balls with one hand, and that’s when my eyeballs roll to the back of my head.
I am married to that woman. That is the mother of my child. How can any man, much less I, be good enough to deserve this?
“Mmmm, so good, Dec.” She sucks on the head and licks me like an ice cream cone, and when she strokes the backs of my thighs as she moans with me in her mouth, I give her what she wants.
So much of it.
Powerful, never-ending, explosive amounts of it.
I will give her every damn thing, do whatever she wants, whatever it is, for the next couple of hours and forever and ever, amen.
