Need a Little Company Ch. 13

His appearance instantly caught her eye.

"Hey," she greeted. Her eyes were wide and friendly, her tone was relaxed, as if they had been roommates for years.

Paul hesitated, momentarily distracted by just how gorgeous she was. The simple white tank top she wore atop her black pregnancy pants couldn't hope to properly support her enormous tits without a bra. But its noble attempt made for a deliciously curvaceous display, highlighted by the grand canyon of cleavage showing through its brazenly low neckline.

Her hair was an utter mess, which made her look even hotter. Unbrushed, tied back hastily for convenience without any concern for appearance. Careless, primitive and strikingly beautiful: it was their sexual chemistry summed up in a single hairstyle.

"Hey," Paul replied, trying to recover from his clumsy pause by matching her casual demeanor. He didn't know what else to say, so he just continued to stare in silence, not even realizing he was doing it.

If the silence was uncomfortable for Marcy, she didn't let on.

"Help yourself," she offered graciously, gesturing broadly across the food before her with a hand still holding her spoon. "There's more toast over by the toaster over there, some eggs and bacon rashes left in the fridge, Special K..."

He could hardly believe it, but the appetite beginning to nag at him right now wasn't for food. He should've been utterly spent after all the sex they'd had last night. Even now, his thighs were still aching from all the vigorous pumping they'd done. Yet seeing Marcy again in all of her ripe, voluptuous perfection, all he could think about was how fantastic it would be to bury his manhood in her hot snatch one last time.

"Thanks," he responded as he rapidly reigned his private cravings in. He walked over to the toaster, and fed it with 2 slices from the nearby bag of toast. Then he retrieved a clean bowl and spoon, sat down at the table opposite Marcy and poured himself a bowl of Special K.

"Sore?" Marcy asked him.

The question surprised Paul. The stiffness of his thighs made walking a little painful but he wouldn't have thought it was noticeable.

"Does it show?" he dodged the question with a coy smirk.

Marcy shrugged.

"Maybe only if you're really looking. A girl's gotta know that she can still give a guy a run for his money, even when she's weighed down," she remarked playfully.

Paul's eyes widened. He was amused by how brazenly and quickly she'd steered their breakfast chit-chat in to sex talk.

"Well, you certainly don't have anything to worry about there," he complimented her with a broad smile, too shy to make eye contact as he said it.

"Thanks," Marcy sweetly mewed with a warm smile. "You know, for what it's worth, whatever aches and pains you got were totally well-earned," she said with a hint of a lusty growl in her voice.

"Thanks," Paul awkwardly chuckled, still too shy to make eye contact.

"It was a really great night," he remarked.

"Yeah," Marcy said in quiet agreement, a blissful smile on her face.

"Not what I had expected, but really... wooooo!" Paul added, eventually resorting to an enthusiastic howl when he failed to find words to do the experience justice.

He made an effort to lift his head and look her in the eyes again, but his gaze got snagged on that spectacular cleavage and would move no higher. God, how he just wanted to dive right in to those huge, yielding...

POP!

The toaster suddenly ejected it's aromatic contents with a loud clunk.

Paul stood up and collected the golden brown slices, depositing them on a small plate and bringing them back to his seat.

The radio stood in for any further conversation as they continued with their breakfast, until Marcy was just about to finish the last piece of toast.

"So, I guess you probably have to head off to work pretty soon?" Paul asked.

"Yeah," Marcy nodded, "'Course, I gotta clean up first, get changed, but yeah. I need to get going."

"That's a shame," Paul said, with mock-disappointment. "...'Cause I hear that pregnancy is a real double-whammy: it makes you super-horny, but it also makes it real hard to find a guy to help you out with it," he pointed out with a coy smile, turning her own words from the previous afternoon to his own advantage.

"Really?" Marcy teased with a raised eyebrow. It was a groan-worthy come-on and they both knew it, but Marcy couldn't help but be amused by the fact that Paul had the balls to try it on. She chuckled and shook her head.

"Oh, what the fuck. Let's go!" she agreed, heaving herself out of the chair with a grunt.

"Seriously?" Paul checked with an ecstatic grin, as he stood up to meet her. He could barely believe it worked.

"Yeah, well, you do have a point," Marcy acknowledged as they fell in to each other's arms and a passionate French kiss. Paul's right hand quickly found Marcy's left tit and began skilfully kneading it through the tank top. Within seconds, the music from the radio was drowned out for both of them, by the sounds of their steamy breath heaving from their nostrils.

"Just... we gotta make it quick," Marcy panted when the first kiss broke. "I gotta be at work by eight."

Paul simply mumbled in response, and Marcy could only hope that he had actually heard her. He was sucking on her neck so hard that she half expected it to leave a hickey. Right now, she didn't care.

Once she'd said her piece, she lunged at his mouth again and a second wild duel of tongues ensued.

Paul quickly tired of the fabric coursing over his palm and reached up through the bottom of Marcy's top to get his hand on the real thing. Then, he slipped his other hand in to her pregnancy pants and began teasing the upper reaches of her crack with his fingertips.

They kissed and kissed, like thirsty pilgrims trying to suck all the sweet saliva out of each other's mouths. Lingering crumbs of their breakfasts passed back and forth between them unnoticed in the frenzy.

Mindful that he was on a deadline, Paul finished playing with Marcy's left boob with a final fond squeeze, then slipped his hand down the front of her pants. Caught up in the urgency of their kissing, his massage of her pussy was intense from the very beginning. His commanding fingers pressed hard in to the yielding flesh of her labia as they raced around and around her privates in a broad circle.

Marcy fell out of the kiss and began to pant loudly as Paul continued to mouth any other part of her head or neck that he could quickly get his lips on. He had the presence of mind to seek out her clit and focus his attention there. A sharp gasp disrupted Marcy's breathing rhythm and Paul silently congratulated himself on the well played manoeuvre. Just for the sake of being a dirty tease, he immediately abandoned her clit and returned to the fleshier parts of her womanhood.

Marcy found her way back in to the kiss, which became more passionate than ever. Meanwhile, his left hand abandoned her ass in favor of her right breast.

He pawed at her aggressively through the tank top and Marcy decided to help him out by peeling the straps off her shoulders, then removing her arms from them all together. Her flourishing, voluptuous breasts now bounced naked and free; the tank top had essentially become a tube top covering nothing but her belly.

A soft jolt from behind caught Marcy by surprise and she realized that Paul had backed her right up against the archway to the hall without her even realizing it.

So much to enjoy, so little time. At the next lull in their kissing Paul sank, to hungrily kiss and nuzzle Marcy's superb breasts. Though he was like a ravenous beast, he managed to maintain that sense of respect that kept him from hurting her tender anatomy. Even his gentle love bites gave her far more pleasure than pain. His other hand abandoned her snatch, so that he could mash her tits together for maximum cleavage and just bury his nose within as deep as it could go.

He could've happily stayed in that hot crevice of supple womanly flesh all day long, but he knew time was not his friend and grudgingly pulled out after just a few wonderful seconds.

He sank even further, dragging his nose and chin down across the unyielding curvature of her swollen belly, still wrapped in the tank top. Though it was a powder keg of trouble, there was no denying that it was also sexy as hell.

His hands hugged the sides of her belly as they descended the length of her body. When they reached the waistline of her pregnancy pants, he hooked his fingers inside and pulled both the pants and the panties within down in a single brisk tug. He lunged in to the sheltered nook of her crotch, negotiating her obstructive belly in a haphazard, almost clumsy fashion. Despite the difficulty, he was able to get close enough to probe and tickle her slit with his tongue. He lapped at her clit periodically, but once again, just enough to torment her before returning to the less erogenous areas of her sex.

Marcy's head turned skyward as Paul reminded her what it was to be a red-blooded woman. Her hands reached back on to the wall behind her, groping for something to grasp hold of and steady her through the storm of excitement. But all they found was smooth wall. Her breathing had devolved in to an erratic sequence of sharp gasps and heavy exhales.

Gauging Marcy's arousal from the quiver in her movements and the sound of her breathing, Paul eventually decided that she was primed for the main event. Without a word he assertively grasped her hips and swiftly spun her around 180-degrees. Then he pulled them back a couple feet or so from the wall, so that Marcy could bend over enough to present her pussy. She complied perfectly with every gesture.

Springing upright once again, Paul made short work of the button and fly of his jeans and quickly peeled his stretched briefs off of the raging boner within. He carefully guided his wanting cockhead in to Marcy's glistening pink opening, then savored the delight of her hot flesh utterly enveloping his organ.

Grabbing her hips like handles, he began pounding her in earnest. Marcy clung to the frame of the archway for dear life and immediately began to howl in helpless ecstasy.

Paul watched in amusement as ripples danced across Marcy's fleshy butt every time his groin slapped against it.

Once he had built up a stable rhythm, he leaned forward and reached for the free-hanging fruit of her chest. He filled his whole grasp with them, squeezing them tightly but adoringly, as he continued thrusting with wild abandon.

"Give it to me! Give it to me, Paul! Oh god, yeah! Oh my god, that's good! Oh..." Marcy moaned loudly, as her pleasure centers were mercilessly penetrated from behind and harshly tormented from the front.

Paul buried his nose in the chaotic mess of Marcy's long brown hair as it bounced all over her back, wanting to completely engulf every sense in this amazing sex goddess as he neared his climax.

A final, uncompromising thrust forced her right up against the arch frame, as he blissfully blasted his hot sperm in to the depths of her womanhood. As if on delayed reaction, he let loose a sound after regaining his voice on the fourth or fifth ejaculation. It was a guttural noise - something between a grunt of exertion and a cry of shock, that was muffled by Marcy's mane of post-coital bed hair.

Marcy, meanwhile was still baying a constant chain of loud, wanton moans.

Paul gave her pussy a handful of gentle thrusts as the last of his cum bubbled from his shuddering rod, before finally coming to rest with his cock buried as deeply inside her as their position allowed. The firm grasp he had on her tits devolved in to a tender massage.

They stood frozen in that position, sweaty, trembling, and out of breath. Marcy was pinned securely between her lover and the arch frame. Though Paul's legs felt numb in the wake of his orgasm, they nonetheless seemed to be propping him up securely, perhaps drawing their strength from the knowledge that his baby-momma might fall if they failed.

Marcy rested only long enough to recover her wits. She was still out of breath when she turned around and pushed Paul back just enough to be able to move.

"Thanks," she panted through a thoroughly-satisfied grin. She emphasized her gratitude with another hungry, open-mouthed kiss. Paul tried, but he was in no condition to match her zest.

"Damn, that's a helluva great start to the morning!" she cheered.

"You're telling me!" Paul muttered.

"Heh, yeah," she chuckled. "But I really gotta have a shower and get out of here," she said with a hint of remorse, before concluding the spontaneous fling with a final kiss, only half as passionate as the last, but a hundred times more tender.

She sidestepped out of the tight space and marched down the hallway, presumably to the bathroom.

Paul staggered over to his chair at the breakfast table to recover. His dick, growing more limp by the second, was still hanging out of his pants, covered in a shimmering layer of Marcy's juices.

-----

Marcy was surprisingly smart when she finally emerged from the bedroom, considering how unkempt she had been only 20 minutes previously. She had double-timed through her whole shower and beauty routine, but the rush job didn't show.

"Okay, bathroom's all yours. Just make sure to set the door lock when you leave," she instructed as she raced through the living room collecting her purse and other essentials. Paul had previously knocked on the bathroom door while Marcy was drying her hair, to ask if he could grab a shower when she was finished with the bathroom.

She moved with surprising speed for a woman in her condition. It was only a few minutes to eight, so she was probably going to be a little late, but Paul suspected her boss wouldn't mind too much.

"Thanks," Paul responded, his voice concealing his dread at what was to come next.

"Well, I guess this is it," he said.

"Yeah, I guess so," Marcy replied, seemingly only half paying attention to the conversation as she packed her belongings in to her purse.

But after a second or two of the awkward silence, she met Paul's gaze and the gravity of the moment seemed to fully settle on her.

"Thanks for... Well, thanks for making this... pretty nice, considering..." she told him softly, her wide hazel-brown eyes reflecting a degree of sincerity that she rarely ever exhibited.

"No problem," Paul gently replied, with a warm smile.

"Good luck with... you know, everything," he countered. He'd pondered virtually that same line earlier, and in his head it sounded like such a pathetic farewell for the woman about to give birth to his lovechild. But now, in the moment, it didn't sound half as bad as he'd expected.

"Thanks," Marcy acknowledged with a gentle smile, seeming to genuinely appreciate his simple wish for her labor to go well.

"I really need to go," she said, after several seconds of unbroken eye contact and oddly comfortable silence.

"Yeah, okay," Paul agreed. "Bye."

"Bye," Marcy softly repeated after a pause.

She turned and walked out the door without looking back. It closed behind her with a gentle thud.