tagInterracial LoveDindi Pt. 05.5

Dindi Pt. 05.5



So, Dindi is back (and for the last time!)

I don't do this, come back with a story once I'm done with it, but I received A LOT of requests for a Dindi epilogue, so here it is. Specially for you who asked for it.

I'm working on my current story, though my time is much shorter now my Summer break is over. I'll finish that as soon as I'm able. In the meantime, have fun with this.





The reason why sex is so good?

Being pregnant is bloody awful. AWFUL.

Your body goes bananas. Suddenly you have to pee all the time because there's a foot kicking your bladder. Your tits get enormous -which would be a plus if they didn't hurt like a fiend. Your fingers turn into sausages. Your feet swell. You get fat, weird, moody, unattractive. All that while your husband remains the same. Just the same. Perfect and hot as ever. And that is the worst part.

Watching Travis walk around half, and sometimes completely, naked -because he can't be bothered to wear pants and a shirt when he's home- as I got bigger and bigger each day was torture. It got even worse when I reached that stage where you're not supposed to have sex anymore.

He was wonderful. Lovely. No woman could ever wish for a better husband. Still, it was his fault I got pregnant. Therefore, he had to deal with my bitchiness. And he did. Without complaint. I blamed him for existing. For being a man. For being so ridiculously good-looking and so, so good a man I felt terrible every time my hormones got the best of me.

It was such a relief when I finally gave birth to Marvin almost 4 months ago. Of course the pain had been too absurd to mention, but, oh my god, I had the cutest, most perfect and adorable baby in the world. He looked so much like Travis it was disgusting.

Travis was such a good father I discovered I was, after all, capable of loving him even more. Every night, when Marvin waked us up with his howling, Travis was out of bed and headed for the baby's room before I had time to fully arouse from my sleep. He literally fought me to be the one to change his diapers. Mind you, I'm not crazy about baby poop, but one day out of five Travis and I disputed Marvin's dirty tawny bum.

"Dindi, you have done so much already. Rest now. Let me do this." He'd ague.

"Travis, I don't mind doing it. I'm his mother. I have to clean his bum too!" I'd throw back at him.

"No, honey. I can do it."

"But I want to do it, Travis!"

"You did it yesterday!"

"I did it three days ago!"

"You can do it tomorrow." And before I could say more he was halfway done with the diaper changing.

He was the perfect father. The perfect husband. Except he wasn't fulfilling his husbandly obligations to me.

My doctor prohibited sex when I was about 8 months in. Then Marvin was born and I had to go through the obligatory period of postpartum healing. In about six weeks the healing period was over, then Travis and I had had a rather disastrous attempt at having sex again. After that, though, he treated me like a was a leprous. He wouldn't touch me for the world! It was like he was King Midas afraid to touch his beloved and turn her into solid gold.

The night would mark mark the four month anniversary of the last time my husband had dared fuck me. I was about to climb up the bloody walls.

Every time I tried to begin something he would find an excuse to slither away from me, saying he had work to do, someplace to be, that he didn't feel well. This one time he ran from me. He straight out ran. I was on my knees all to willing to suck him for all I was worth, but he ran, and locked himself in his damned dark room while I cried, rejected. What kind of a man runs from a free blowjob?!

We've been married for over two years, and happily so. He never, ever gave me any reason to be dissatisfied with anything in our life together, but now he wouldn't touch me. He was denying me the very thing that had brought us together in the first place. And I, as a woman who had pushed a person out of her body, secretly blamed myself. I knew it wasn't my fault, not really. But I felt as if it were. I felt untouchable, undesirable, neglected. I was beginning to feel a little down, too. Unloved.

He treated me as well as always. He was attentive, lovely, thoughtful, but he didn't seem to want me anymore. He didn't want me. And to think the whole reason why I was his wife today was because, once upon a time, he'd wanted me so much, he'd even acted crazy to get me.

My body wasn't the same. Pregnancy changes a woman. Inside and out. I had slightly wider hips now -what should please him-, not to mention much bigger breasts, a trait which was temporary and he wasn't enjoying it while it lasted. But those were good things.

I had countless new stretches which all the almond oil in the world wasn't able to prevent. I've never been too skinny, but not too chubby either. Now my body was somehow rounder, softer. My belly wasn't as flat as it used to be. The woman who looked back at me from the mirror reflection didn't possess the unabated security I used to have. And it was all Travis's fault!

Parenthood is not kind on you. By the end of each day I'm ready to sleep like the dead. Marvin's cries for attention are the only things powerful enough to wake me up once I lay my head on my soft pillow. One rare night, though, a week ago, I awoke around 2 a.m. to find Travis wasn't asleep by my side. At first I thought baby Marvin had woken him, but I dismissed that first assessment. It simply wasn't plausible that Marvin would wake his father and not me. If he had cried I would've woken up too. The little thing grew inside of me. I had an alarm in my head, ready to sound the minute he opened his mouth to let the first cry out.

I dragged my exhausted body to the baby's room. Didn't find Travis there. I checked our bathroom. Didn't find Travis there, either. Then I began to worry. Call it silliness, but my husband used to be a whore. He used to fuck anything that moves before he met me. Then suddenly, he had a wife with a loose vagina with whom he hadn't had any sex in almost four months. That little speaking worm burrowed itself farther into my brain as though it were a juicy apple.

He's gone out. He's out there with some leggy model with a tight pussy who can give him what you haven't given him!

"Shut up!" I said out loud. Clearly the lack of sex was beginning to affect my brain too.

As a husband, Travis had never done a thing to make me distrust him. But then again, before the baby, we had enough sex to leave me sore five out of seven days.

Distantly, I heard a muffled grunt that made my heart jump in my chest. Back in the room, I found the baseball bat George had given me for my last birthday. He'd been mugged a month earlier, and started thinking the whole world was in imminent danger of being robbed too. I had thought it such a useless gift. What would I ever hit with that blasted thing? I certainly wouldn't try to hit a guy with a gun pointed at my face.

Another grunt.

This time my ears were able to locate the sound. It seemed to be coming from downstairs. I went down, stepping on the creaking boards of the old house staircase as lightly as a cat. Another grunt. This one unmistakably a male sound coming from the library. My brain, that being the brain of a person who's lately only read fantastical infantile tales, began to work.

What if it is a burglar? What if he's got Travis?

On light feet I approached the library doors. Travis and I had moved out of his loft when I was about 3 months pregnant with Marvin, wanting more space and a garden. That library was my favourite place in the new house. One of the double doors was slightly ajar, although the lights were off.

A burglar wouldn't bother turning on the lights, Morena!

Statuesquely, I stood outside the library listening to the thumping of my heart sound in my ears. My trembling hands were clutching the baseball bat with such force my knuckles were white. I took in a deep breath, mentally counting to three.

One Mississippi, Two Mississippi, Th-

"Ah! Shiiiiit." I heard coming from inside the room. My heart skipped a beat or two. I knew that voice. I knew those grunts.

Carefully, I tried a peek through the slice of opened door. It was dark, but the moonlight coming through the windows was clarifying enough. And in a any case, I wouldn't need much light. I would have recognized that naked back anywhere. Outlined by the moonlight, facing a bookshelf, was my dear, loving husband wanking off.

My breath caught in my throat. My hands around the wooden bat started to shake.

"Oh, fuck, FUCK!" Travis hissed again.


I would've liked to say I went in there in beat the shit out of him, but I didn't. Instead, I returned to the bedroom. I put George's bat back in its place and lay back in bed to cry. I didn't know which emotion was stronger; if my anger towards Travis, my anger towards myself, or the abysmal self-loathing that hooked itself to every fiber in my body.

You see, Morena? He would rather fuck himself than you! You always knew, deep, deep down, that he was too much for you. You always knew he'd eventually get tired of simple, little you. Now he's just having a wank! Next time he might get one of those pretty models to play with!

Trying to ignore my own stupid-self, I made my best to cry as silently as silence would allow me to. Travis came back to bed some fifteen minutes later. I successfully pretended to be asleep. He lay by my side, planted a soft kiss on my nape, then fell asleep, blissfully happy and at least mildly sexually satisfied while I felt like the most hideous woman in the world.

Did I talk to him about what I'd seen? No.

Did I try to give him real, physical sex after that? Yes.

Did he want it? No.

Fortunately for both Travis and I, I had reached my limit. He would fuck me today or he would end up murdered by his sexually frustrated wife. That would make for a nice headline for tomorrow's paper, anyway.

Travis was in his dark room working, which was a term presently known as another-excuse-not-to-shag-my-wife. I went in silently so as not to startle him. He didn't see me get in. Didn't hear me closing the door. He was only made aware of my presence when I wrapped my arms about his bare torso, pressing my cheek to his warm and sweaty back. He never wore a shirt when he was in that stifling room.

I heard his chuckle before he spoke. "Hey you, big mama."

"Can't call a woman who just had a baby big, mister." I said, my lips brushing his salty skin as they moved.

He spun around and my mouth moved from the spot between his shoulder blades to his chest. I could hear his heart beating, slow and steady.

"Where's Marvin?" He asked, all concerned.

"Asleep, Daddy." I tilted my head back to give him a fierce look. "Do you honestly think I'd leave him alone and unattended?"

His eyes, in turn, were soft and amused. "Of course not. I'm just asking." He bent down and kissed my forehead. I almost dissolved with the little contact. He rarely kissed me these days. "It's my paternal instinct."

"Our club is fine."

"Are you fine?" He asked, eyeing me knowingly.

No, Travis. I'm not fine. I'm terrible, actually. I hate you. I need sex. Now, if you please.

"I'm alright." I lied.

He cupped my head with his big man hands. "Are you?" He asked, gently forcing my head back like a doctor about to examine my throat.

I lowered my eyes, ready to put my plan in action. "I am. But," I looked up at him, tentatively. "I could be better."

The corner of his mouth lifted with that little smile that begged me to kiss him. "How?"

If you fuck the shit out of me right now.

"If you, say, took me to dinner tonight." I dropped the idea with care.

"What about Marvin?"

I sighed.

I loved my son. My god, how much I loved him. My chest tightened just to think about his chubby little legs, full of little creases. The smell of baby in his head and those little eyes that were still deciding what colour they'd like to be. I loved him. He came out of my body. But Travis was such a mother hen, it could be annoying sometimes.

"I talked to your mother. She said she'd be happy to watch him for us." There was no better nanny than grandma.

A few months before Marvin was born, Evelyn showed up at the door begging me to forgive her for the way she had treated me in the past. She still looked at me funny sometimes. But I could see she was really trying. Besides, she loved my little boy, however brownish he might be. And Travis was so, so much happier now his family was complete again.

Travis considered me for a moment. I was able to hear the engines working inside his head. She wants sex. I hoped his mind was telling him. Your wife wants you to fuck her, Mr. Keegan. I crossed my fingers behind his back, hoping he'd listen to that little voice.

"Please, Travis?" I whispered, pleadingly. "Please?"

He looked down at me, all uncertainty. My body was practically vibrating in anticipation. Say yes. Say yes.

"Will Italian do?"

"YES!" I squealed in my excitement. "YES! YES! YES!"

I stood on the tips of my toes and kissed him. He tensed, his hands frozen on my sides. I let my own hands slide up his back to his neck and brought his head down, so he would be closer, easier to reach. Travis exhaled through his nose, making a deep sound in his throat. I rejoiced in that sound. It was defeat. He started kissing me with more fervour. Really kissing me. His hands travelled south and, for the first time in months, he allowed himself to grab handfuls of my ass. He squeezed the cheeks as if assessing how much bigger my backside was now. My fingers raked through his hair, that wasn't quite as long as when I first met him, but it was still soft and long enough to tug at.

Between us his cock came to life. I felt it hard and demanding, pressing against my stomach. He still wants me. He still wants me. A gasp, that was a mingle of pleasure and happiness, escaped through our kiss. His tongue was dominant inside my mouth. That kiss alone spoke of four months of physical neglect.

Travis whirled us round and, suddenly, I was seated on the cool surface of his working table and he was in between my legs, sucking on my bottom lip. My entire body shivered. I felt exhilarated, enough to cry. I wrapped my legs about him, squeezing his sides with my thighs, wanting him closer and closer. He wasn't gentle with me. My lips hurt, I registered the mild pain in some dark corner of my mind, but fuck that. I only cared about Travis's hands running over my thighs, Travis's mouth on my neck, Travis's grunts in my ear. He still wanted me. He wanted me.

Losing patience with all the kissing, I let one hand slide down his strong abdomen until I was palming his glorious length, sadly constricted by his pants and underwear. My thumbs and forefingers were fumbling with the button of his jeans when he pulled away from me. He did so so abruptly, I leaned forward slightly and had to grab the edge of the marble table not to fall face down on the floor.

He stood as far away from me as he could. Back pressed against the opposite wall. His chest was heaving. Even under the intense red lights of the room, that only a second ago were making me feel ethereal, I could see how flushed Travis was.

"Morena, I...can't..." He breathed.

I felt that little pinch inside my nose that precedes tears. "Why?"

"Well, I..." He stopped, ran a hand down his face. "I have to work." Old, used excuse.

"You what?"

"I have to finish this, baby. I have to deliver this pictures first thing tomorrow." He had a miserable pleading look on his face. "If I don't finish this today I can't take you out to dinner. You want go to dinner, right? It will make you happy. You said it would." He spoke about the bloody dinner as though it were the solution to world hunger.

It was on the tip of my tongue, Why don't you fucking say the truth? That you don't want me? I refrained from making such a fool of myself.

"I understand, Travis." I said, fighting my tears so hard I almost choked.

He nodded nervously. "Make yourself pretty for me tonight." He said it like he cared. As if it would make a difference to him what I fucking looked like.

"Of course." I jumped to the floor, readjusting my dress over my hips. "I'll go check on Marvin." I said, and left the room without looking back.

I closed the door behind me, making sure the baby monitor was in my hand, and sprung into a run. I ran outside, where I could breath fresh air. Travis's dark room smelled of his sweat and his rejection of me. In the garden, there was a little shed I had visited only once since buying the house. I thought that a good place to hide my sobs. I pushed the creaking door open, set myself on a little dusted upside-down bucket and let my tears flow.

I cried like I never cried in my life. Not even when I saw that nasty bitch kissing Travis 3 years ago. I made loud, ugly sounds because I couldn't cope with breathing properly and crying at the same time. There was a tightness in my chest that wouldn't let my lungs fill when I drew breath. I looked down at my breasts to see two perfectly circular smudges on my dress. One for each nipple, darkening the cloth. Milk leaked when Travis had pressed me to him.

I was being loud, but there was no helping that. I was exhausted of having to beg my husband for his touch. I was tired of trying. I felt so worthless, so unhappy. To think Travis couldn't get enough of me only a while ago. Now he physically made himself pull away from me, preferring to jerk off in the middle of the night.

The creaking of the wooden door startled me, and I looked up to see Travis had found me. He stopped by the door looking at me with such a pained expression I had to look away, taken aback by another wave of shuddering sobs.

"Dindi." He crouched in front of me, trying to take my hands in his.

"Go away." I sniffed.

He put his hands on each side of my face and had to press the tips of his fingers into my skull to make me look at him. "What's-"

"Now you want to touch me?"

Travis's clear, blond brows knitted together in a look of confusion.

"Leave me alone, Travis."

"No. I won't leave you. Talk to me-"

"Fuck off, Travis!" I unleashed all of my anger and frustration on him. He only stared at me, wide eyed. He was crouched so near to me that he almost fell backwards when I stood to my feet. I made to leave, but he grabbed my ankles. Both strong hands pinning my feet to the ground.

"Morena, what's happening to you?" He asked in a voice that suggested he had not a clue about what was happening to me. Or what wasn't happening.

"What's happening to me?!" I snarled. With that strength rage gives you, I shook out of his hold and stepped as far away from him as I could. "What do you imagine might be happening to me, Keegan?!"

His expression was blank. He seemed to really not have the slightest idea of how much he'd hurt me. "I have no idea wha-"

"Go fuck yourself, Travis!" I yelled, interrupting him. "Oh, no! Wait a minute! You already do that, don't you, darling?!"

He frowned at me.

"Huh!" His apparent ignorance had me angry enough to actually murder him "I heard you, you bastard! I saw you!" At this his blue eyes widened. "You son of a bitch! I hate you!"

"Baby," He got to his feet, a pacifying hand extended my way. "I-"

"YOU would rather fuck you bloody hand than me!" I shouted.


"You haven't touched me in months! Months! And all this time, you've been sneaking off to have a wank in my library! In the middle of the fucking night!"

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