His to Take

"I am all yours to take," she finally conceded, in a mental universe where she was both aware and ingenuous about the meaning of her words.

Uttered months after they had committed to each other, they did not come lightly. The slow build up to them played part in imbuing them with significance. Still, it can't be said that she had fully thought through the ultimate consequences of what she called upon, what she enabled.

It was a rather uncharacteristic moment for her. Her everyday chess thinking was always five moves ahead; she was one of those infuriating people who remember to buy milk a day before the gallon is down to a single glass, who finish wrapping the last of their holiday shopping on Black Friday weekend. In the heat of the moment, perhaps, she had said something that she had not planned, fully envisioned.

What she for once had not overanalyzed, thought hard into the land of the overprocessed ridiculous, he had very much mentally dissected on her behalf.

When he received her confession on a night of work trip sexting, accompanied by a close up shot of her fingers deep between her legs, he played it cool. At the time, he used it as one more step to climb on as he remotely built the momentum in her. He was going to take all of her, not just the mediated and hormonally suppressed parts he had accepted so far, and he told her all about it. When his filthy words finally made her cum on speaker, he smiled in relief, glad he was able to hold back the honest images she had reignited with her concession.

He had given it much thought, both rational and irrationally. He knew it was time. He had found the best teammate and life partner, at a time of stability and abundance, and he knew his knees did not have many more years of soccer coaching at the local elementary. A few years younger, however, she was only past the if and still hung up on the when. Her own career was stable, she was in good health, she knew she had found a good father. She just had avoided the active thinking through the physical, emotional, and financial budgets involved.

But it was the irrational that most deeply reflected the gap between their thinking processes. They both wanted it, sure, but they fixated on different things. More than a breeding kink, she had a cum play one. She was a good cumslut, never wasting a drop when he fucked her mouth, licking the remnants off his cock after she stroked him to orgasm. She constantly reminded him how much she missed his warm sperm inside her: she had gone off the pill to stabilize her hormones, and they had painfully resumed their days of fucking through a condom.

Still, even against such deliciously filthy baseline, he was on a different galaxy. His secret orgasms did not focus on the joy in her eyes as she swallowed him, on the tight grip of her pussy whenever she exploded around his flesh. The sight of his sperm pooling in her mouth did not cut it. The picture of her makeup ruined by a sloppy facial got him going, but it did not push him over the edge.

What consistently did him in was the idea of fucking her so strategically, so intensely, that she would be permanently marked by his seed. The red marks he left on her tits and hips, her hoarse voice after nights of brutal facefucking, gave him short-lived satisfaction. These marks all faded a few days after their rough sessions, reminding him of the temporary nature of his ownership. He came much harder imagining her legs spread, taking load after load from him, and being forced to cum around them to aid her fertility.

He had given much thought to the ways he'd finally fuck her when she felt the call to maternity, the breeding rituals in which they'd partake. Free use in the middle of the night just to pump one more load into her fertile insides. A dawn trip to a beach where he'd listen to the waves in her and by them as her insides sucked in his load. A romantic date night that started with roses and ended with her lingerie torn and her body bred while she screamed, on command, who finally fucking owns her.

Maybe those would all happen, in due time, but there was a very good chance he wouldn't be able to hold himself back that long. Some of his impulsive traits could not be tamed. He always ate a third of his meal while cooking in the kitchen because he was too impatient to wait until the table was set. He couldn't always hold himself back from spoiling small surprises, from sharing preliminary reactions. How could he ever hold back on the project that consumed the largest part of his sexual mind now that she had given a green light?

For what it's worth, he did not act upon his instincts the night she returned from her work trip, when welcome home sex featured meticulous cunnilingus until she tapped out. He did not breed her the morning after in their horny but rushed intercourse, when she slipped a condom on him as soon as he was awake. He fucked her several times those days, guarded, chipping away at the 100-pack that had for a couple of weeks felt more empty than full.

At the end of a hard week at work, he knew maintenance sex with the cumslut of his dreams was not going to cut it. This was not a weekend to spend fucking about on videogames or drinking too many beers with friends. They needed something special, and he needed to claim her before she did the math on childcare costs. He loved finding new ways to overwhelm her senses, to make her body more his than it had been the night before. After all, she had told him she was his to take.

Still, he had to work late on that damned Friday, and there was no time for roses, no beach breeding ritual, no energy for furtive fucking in the middle of the night. He had failed to make plans for the most important sex of his life. Maybe he was too tired and this could wait for another weekend, he thought.

It was a lucky coincidence that she had made plans of her own.

When he closed the door behind him upon his arrival at home, the warm scent of pepper steak filled his nostrils. He barely had time to throw his work bag into the closet when she came to find him, wine glasses in her hands, a white apron delicately wrapped around the black dress she had worn to work that day. Her hair was down, however, and she wore a perfect red lip.

"Hey, welcome home," she said between kisses.

When he embraced her, he did not need to slip his hands under her skirt to know she was wearing a seductive little thong, probably long lost in her ample curves and waiting to be delicately tugged off in foreplay. He grabbed one of the glasses from her hand.

"It smells delicious in here. What's the occasion?"

"What, I'm not allowed to celebrate being with you?"

He smiled, kissing her, knowing full well something she maybe didn't: she was about to celebrate being *his*.

The window of opportunity had creaked open, and, despite his usual impatience, he was well equipped to let himself in. In gratitude for a second chance, he focused on the conversation, eating slow. He basked in her flirting, the way she still played with her hair and asked him if he liked his food. He took in her beauty, somehow refreshed and refreshing after a long day at work. He guided the conversation to one about their future, and she followed.

"You know, a year ago, I felt I had a really long list of things to fulfill," she told him as she brought his favorite dessert to the table. "I am feeling happy, but I am also out of ideas on what's next for me, which feels weird."

"Sometimes it's fine to take some time to enjoy the life you've made for yourself," he countered, his eyes looking into hers as she sat down across him. "You have worked so hard, for so long, that you're at a good place to just take a break."

She went silent, though not because the dark chocolate mousse was otherworldly, or anything like that. She was processing his words, her legs crossing under the table.

"What about you?" she finally asked, taking a small spoonful her mousse. "Do you also feel like you're on pause?"

He gave her a good look, silent in response. He then rose and walked across to stand behind her, his fingers trailing the sides of her neck before his hands rested on her shoulders. He smiled as she melted under his touch. She tilted her neck, her cheek caressing his hand. He leaned down to kiss her exposed ear delicately, concluding the conversation with a whisper.

"I feel like my plans are just now getting started."

There was no violence to the scene. No toppled chairs, no broken dresses, no bangs or dragged bodies. Only untouched desserts and the candlelights left burning, because they busied themselves kissing each other to their heart's content. He guided them to the bedroom, unzipping her dress and pulling it down with her apron before they crossed the entry.

He pushed her back onto the king size bed that had seen them fuck in every existing position, holding restraints and toys and occasional others onto its frame. Her diminute black thong clung onto her curves, and her delicate lace bra covered less of her full breasts than it revealed. After all this time, romance wasn't dead, and she had dressed up because she was his to take.

Fully dressed himself, he climbed between her legs, her toes tracing arcs against the bed cover as her body spread. His fingers dragged the fabric downwards, sideways, freeing her nipples and her slit for his hands to fondle, to sample.

Just like the youth that go daily through their entire figure collection to enjoy what's there and fantasize of what's missing, he still enjoyed slipping his fingers into her, following the familiar pathways that triggered her moans and the movement of her hips. Each wet embrace of his fingers reminded him of the firsts she'd gifted him, the ways she used her body to fulfill his sexual desires the way she had never worked to fulfill anyone else's. With expertly timed pacing and tried-and-true strokes just above her clit, near but not on her G spot, with tongue taps and light licks up and down her labia, he held her down until she crossed the threshold of her first orgasm, her cheeks flushed and her body docile when she came back down.

It was the most beautiful collection to admire, especially on the day that he'd finally complete it with the one piece painfully missing all along.

After a few seconds of recovery, she rose, her hands undoing his pants for the next part of the choreography. Friday was a night to take a first load down her throat, and in hindsight she should have known something was up when he pulled her face away from him before he reached orgasm, just after her red lipstick smeared around her lips and left a mark under his head.

She only went as far as he let her, initially roaming free, covering his cock in saliva with deep movements of her mouth. Her worshipping hardened him fully with gentle strokes on his balls and tongue stimulation that never ceased against his flesh. His hands were not needed to help her reach the depths inside her own mouth; after all this time, she felt proud in showing off just how long she could host his head against her throat without gagging.

He took off his shirt when it got stained by his precum and her spit, and she climbed on top of him. Amidst the passion of their weekend date, her movements were somehow calculated: her unprotected pussy never hovered over his cock, careful not to tempt him before a condom protected their encounter. Her hands rested at his waist, loving, while she looked at him seductively. The "What's next?" look, really.

He enjoyed the spectacle before him, on top of him. The love of his life, the naked temptress whose breasts lightly bounced as she climbed on him, finally in peak and willing fertility. "I'm all yours to take," she had told him while sexting a few days ago, responding to his expressed wish to fuck her raw again now that she was off birth control.

When she bent over in that position to reach for the bedside table, he realized she might have forgotten her promise. Almost by instinct, his hand moved to her wrist, and he pushed her onto her back, rolling on top of her. She seemed confused, though still in good spirits. She did like it when her husband took charge in bed. It was when he spread her thighs and efficiently positioned his cock at her very entrance that her body withdrew, a worried expression on her face.

"Baby, the condom, we need it," she reminded him.

His hands moved to her hips, pulling her back to him. She didn't quite pull back again; it was not the kind of scenario where she would stop sex with her husband. It had happened before, sure, but this dealbreaker did not seem enough to ruin the arousal she had built up over the entire day, fantasizing of date night with him.

"I really think we need the..." she started, but she was interrupted by the sensation of his naked meat pushing hers apart, unmediated. She immediately knew how much she had missed the messy sensations of unprotected sex; his precum mixing into her pleasure juices to lubricate her as he entered her. She looked up, sighing.

His lips hovered near her ear, his hands pinning hers down. "You told me you were all mine to take."

Spread, pinned under his weight, she tried to move her hips in protest. But who was she kidding? All her movement achieved was to take him deeper, further welcoming his fluids in her slick pussy. "Baby, I was just horny, I..."

When he felt the internal period of adjustment to be over, he began his strokes. Firm, rhythmic, ever so slightly rough. "And you think I can't feel just how horny you are tonight, then?"

She moaned in frustration, as she was in the early stages of pleasure, and he let go of her hands. If she tried to push him off, he'd stop it, he told himself. But he knew he had made no gamble, taken no relationship-threatening risk. He had carefully built up the sexual dominance in their lives that had rendered her a cumdump, a lover that was entirely his to take, and the rest of her life had aligned with his ultimate goal now.

"You told me you were all mine to take, showing me just how empty your pussy was without my cum."

Her hands moved to his back. She was not pulling him, but rather holding onto him.

"You teased me, and you came hard when I told you how much fun I would have pumping your little pussy full of cum," he said in her ear. She reacted with a whimper, and with pressure around his cock.

In the perfect unison of long-time lovers and cum-play partners in crime, her hips tilted ever so slightly when his hipbones dragged a couple inches lower on her body, finding the angle that would hit the pleasure spot in her depths. Her body welcomed him and his pleasure, her arms wrapped tight around him. Still, her thoughts told a more nuanced story.

"Baby, you're going to knock me up, this is insane," she begged, unable to utter longer sentences now, her eyes already closed in pleasure. The glaring lack of safe words and bodily resistance made him wonder: was this a protest, or was she asking for it?

"Yes, my love, I'm going to fuck my baby into you and you are going to love it."

She grunted. Pleasure was building up in her insides, traveling through her thighs, sending little shocks into her toes. He knew that he had fucked any fight out of her, and her impending orgasm was going to erase any hesitation still in her mind.

"I'm not ready yet," she moaned-cried.

His body pressed hers into the mattress, his skin brushing hers all over -- his belly brushing up against her painfully hard nipples, his hairy thighs tickling her spread legs, the first drop of his sweat landing on her glistening collarbone. Her mind zoomed into the sensations his whole body forced on her, augmenting the pleasure that his cock drove into her.

"Do you want me to stop?"

With her limbs around him, her head lifted off the bed, she knew she was so close to explosion. It was too late to hold back; there was no point. His precum had by now oozed freely into her with each pump, and her juices had welcomed all of it into its rightful vessel.

"Breed me, baby," she finally begged, cumming so hard around him the second his pumps picked up into their final speed that he grunted loud at the sensation around him.

And so he took what was his. His hands moved down to her ass, pulling her hips up to his as he did a final plunge, his seed released deep into his wife's body for the first time since she had gone off birth control. His mouth opened as he concentrated in the strong sensations, his body recording one of the strongest orgasms he had ever experienced.

It's like his balls knew that they had an ownership claim to make.

When tears were shed, he held her to him, reassuring. He knew she was now only starting the train of thought he had entertained for months now. His hands rested on her lower belly, just above her mons, and he kissed her shoulder, her cheek. She rested her leg on his, somewhat spread, relishing in the warm sensation that she felt at her cervix.

"You will make a great dad, baby."

When he dripped out of her, her fingers moved between her legs to push it all back in.

As luck had it, this was not the conception story they might have to remember when the awkwardly curious asked them. Still, it was the worthwhile start of a journey to mark her forever.

After all, she had said she was his to take, and he had long looked forward to taking her up on that offer.