The guilt.
The excitement.
The feeling when she spread her legs for him and welcomed him inside her body. The way they f****d day in, day out, despite her condition. She knew today would be the same. She'd head home and would probably end up blowing him before dinner. Afterwards, they would retire to their bedroom.
This was the routine they had fallen into. He would strip down and lie on the bed. She would clamber up on top of him - like a giant sow, with swollen udders - and she would ride him. It was pretty much the only way they could make love now, bearing in mind her condition. No doubt he would suck on her t**s, milking her. She had started lactating weeks ago and he loved to drink down her breast milk. She would stroke his hair tenderly and whisper how much she loved him, feeding
