Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Consequently, I wasn’t self-conscious. Not when Coke never missed an opportunity to show me how much he adored my body.
“Back or belly?” he asked, holding out his hand.
I took it and found myself standing.
“How do you want me?” I questioned right back.
His gaze went devilish, then he pushed me forward until I was standing straight in front of the swing, facing it.
“Shirt,” he ordered.
I took it off and threw it in the direction of the hamper, missing it by at least six feet.
He chuckled and ran his hands up my naked hips, curving around my front once he reached my ribs, and cupped my breasts.
They sagged more than they once did thanks to two children in two years, but you wouldn’t think that was the case with the way Coke loved them so.
“Hop up.” He squeezed my nipple.
We both moved as one as I climbed into the swing, knowing from experience that this took more concentration than driving a car.
We’d learned that the hard way. We’d tried to be slick and move into the swing more hastily than we probably should have the first time and had promptly flipped right out the other side.
He’d landed on me, and I’d nearly died—not literally. But it felt like it at the time.
Then our children had come pounding on the door wanting to know if we were okay.
Lesson learned.
Once I was in position, he moved the foot straps around my ankles, and then pulled a strap up by his head that widened them.
I shivered in anticipation, causing my breasts to jiggle against the cool leather that they were hanging between.
The placement of my breasts was slightly uncomfortable…for now. But I knew from experience that the discomfort would be the last thing on my mind when Coke started touching me.
Which he did moments later.
“I love this ass,” he said, squeezing first one cheek, and then the other.
I licked my lips and let my head fall, my hair brushing the floor as it unfurled from the messy bun I’d hastily put it in after my shower.
Then he got down on his knees and did the only thing I still blushed over—licked me.
I don’t know why, but the act of him down on his knees, licking me there…it still got me. It still made me pink in the cheeks, and I still squirmed.
I wondered idly if I’d ever get over my embarrassment. I’d been with this man for a very long time. He’d seen things, and I’d done things, that I would’ve died over had it happened in the beginning of our relationship.
Like the time that I broke not just one arm, but both arms and he’d had to do everything for me. Everything. Put my tampons in for me. Wipe my ass. Shave my legs.
Seriously, there wasn’t a single thing sacred after that debacle.
I still remembered that day like it was yesterday—our first day home after that had happened.
***
The dawning dismay that I had to go to the bathroom hit me, and I looked at my husband in horror.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I told him.
“Then go.”
“I can’t wipe,” I gestured to my arms, that were stuck straight out like a mummy’s.
I’d stupidly tried to run after a kid and had fallen hard on the steps of a church. I’d broken my fall with my face and arms. My face striking the top step, and both of my arms pinned at my side due to a jacket I’d been trying to put on at the time, I had hit the step at almost the same angle. I’d broken the humerus in both my left and my right arm.
Now I was cast with long poles holding my arms straight out, and I was staring at my husband who was just now realizing what this meant for us.
“I’m going to have to take like six weeks off,” he finally said.
I swallowed and nodded. “Three, actually. But that’s just as bad.”
He walked up to me and hooked me around the waist. “Let’s go do this.”
“You can help me take my pants off and leave me there while I do it…I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
He winked. “I’m but your humble ass wiping servant.”
I would’ve smacked him if I could physically accomplish it.
***
Those three weeks while I’d been in those hard casts had been the most embarrassing and enlightening of my life. I truly understood the meaning behind the ‘in sickness and in health’ vow of our nuptials.
“Cora,” Coke drawled, drawing me out of my head. “Where’s your head at?”
Where my head was at was not in the present. Why? Because now he was nibbling on my pussy lips, making me blush and squirm and swear.
There were way more embarrassing things that had happened, too.
Then there was the time that I had to have a hysterectomy because of a few suspicious tumors that were growing on my fallopian tubes and uterus. He’d had to help me clean—down there—because I literally felt like crap. After getting out of the hospital from my total hysterectomy, I’d gotten a fever. That fever had rendered me an invalid.