Page 60 of Untold Restraint

There’s almost more cum than fabric.

I run my fingers through the warm, slippery mess, and bring them to my nose, to smell the once-familiar scent of his pleasure.

He enjoyed himself.

When I saw him leave the garage, I thought he might take the photos with him, but I suppose he can’t risk being caught with them. The Polaroid shots have been carefully folded into a tissue and stored back under the sink, behind the perfectly functional pipes, for another time perhaps. But the one from my boudoir pregnancy shoot is propped just in front of the proof of his enjoyment.

He wants me to know that’s the one that made him come.

A needy shiver runs through me, at how much my baby body turned him on and how much more I want to please him.

I meet my gaze in the mirror, and feel the naughty twinkle in my eyes, as much as I see it.

My fingers become a scoop, and I collect a swash of his cum, smear it around my pussy, and push it inside. I do it again, fucking my cum-slicked fingers, and wanting more.

I want to pull on the dripping panties and wear his mess around the house, while I clean, but they’re so overwhelmed with jizz, it’s just not going to be practical. I need to lessen their load, find a safe place to put some of that cum.

I smile to myself, as I carefully cup my hands beneath the panties with his generous deposit, and I head upstairs, so we won’t set off the ten-feet alert if Quin comes back for a second round in a hurry. He’s good at a quick reload, as I recall.

I always thought guys needed some time in between rounds, to recover, but it was never that way with him. He was ready whenever I wanted him to be — reliable and dedicated to my pleasure. He was so good, he mostly wiped away the memories of his father’s actions away.

I block Jack from my mind, and focus on Quin, the way I’ve learned to do so well.

He is just outside. So close. Looking at him makes me hot and needy, and now that I have evidence of his love in my hands, it’s time to revel in it.

My personal bathroom is a much safer place to lock myself in, lie on the floor, and make love to my ruined underwear. Quin’s cum is still warm. It’s so fresh, and when some tries to escape my pussy, I force it back inside, pumping it hard at my cervix, to show his sperm the way.

Could he smell that I’m ovulating? Apparently that’s a thing that can happen. Even if he wasn’t consciously aware, did his lizard brain get the memo? Did it send a message to his balls, to get the boys ready to charge?

There’s a reason I made them wait a week, to build.

I wanted to be ready.

Ready for this.

I’ll hit the peak of this month’s fertile window in two days, and if I play my cards right, Curty will get a little brother or sister a good nine months after that.

My pussy quivers inside at the thought, and I keep my hips tilted up, to let gravity help Quin’s guys find their target, while I rub my clit to climax.

Happy babies are made with love, Kira. Feel my love and open yourself for more.

I clench and twitch and moan on the bathroom floor, my pussy noisily sucking the cum from my fingers. It feels so fucking good, to have some part of him inside me and to recreate the fiercest bond forged between us on the most important joint mission we had together — getting me pregnant.

When I recover myself, I toss my undies in the hamper and pull on a new pair, to catch whatever will slowly seep out of me. I carry on with my chores, like it never happened, enjoying the gradual progression of the stickiness between my thighs.

I’ll tell Quin what I’m doing when we get a chance to talk privately. He’ll be happy but worried, and I’ll need to show him I’ve thought things through, to keep our babies safe.

I’m sure the recent change in him is some sort of boldness spurred by an advancement in his plans to escape from Jack’s schemes, but if Quin and I can’t reunite by the time I start to show, I can make it look like I’ve moved on and it’s someone else’s kid, so Jack won’t get suspicious.

I’ll plan enough visible outings with multiple potential suitors, to make myself look like the slut Jack thinks I was. Quin will be the last person Jack suspects me to be pregnant with. After all, we can’t get within ten feet of each other, let alone fuck.

Meanwhile, I’ll be getting a head start on making our next little ginger baby and moving toward the family Quin and I always wanted — the one Jack has tried to ensure we never have.

Proving him wrong will be as satisfying as a positive pregnancy test in a few weeks, and thinking about it is making me horny again. That may be due to how slippery I am in my underwear, though. Cleaning the house is so much more fun when my pussy’s been creamed.

God, I hope this works.

I run my cloth over the windowsill, watching the boys at play.

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