mr. welt yang who is strictly dominant—hard and collected when it comes to just about anything. he likes to be in control and have a general understanding, and that applies to your sex life. mr. welt yang who always takes care of his precious baby. he tells you “don’t worry that pretty little head of yours—i’ll take care of it.” and he makes you feel better. long, hard, bad day? that’s okay. welt’ll make it trivial, a futile matter that’s only a distant memory as he feasts on your cunt and worships your body.
mr. welt yang who will do anything you say. anything to make you happy. so when you tell him, eyes wide with stars gleaming in your pupils that you wanna make him feel good, who is he to say no? mr. welt yang who indulges in your sweet attempts to swallow his big cock down your little throat, mr. welt yang who praises you for taking all of his cum like the good princess you are, mr. welt yang who encourages you as you try to ride him. “it’s okay, take your time, ‘m not going anywhere . . .”, “that’s it, oh, fuck, you got it—so, so good, yeah?”, “make yourself feel good, ‘s okay.” he thumbs away your tears when you get frustrated and overstimulated because he’s just so big and he feels so good inside of you. you want to be good for him, to repay him for the millions of times he’s taken care of you, but he tells you that it doesn’t matter; you repay him everyday by being his good, perfect little princess, and there’s nothing more he could ask for.
mr. welt yang who loves his darling more than this world could conceive. there’s nothing in this world he would trade for getting to indulge in you, make you feel on top of the universe, and be reminded that you’re his, and he’s yours.
My jaw dropped at the sight of you in front of me. Never in a million years did I think you'd be here at this wedding and waddling with a cute little belly to boot! It was only fitting, though. We met at a wedding a few months ago after we were both seated at the singles table, and we had a night full of passion and mind-blowing sex. After everything we did to each other, it was no surprise that we were both sporting swollen belly bumps now.
Except... we didn't exchange any phone numbers or social media. So, when I turned up heavily pregnant from our night of love, I had no way to tell you. But now that you were standing in front of me, it's clear you had the same predicament. Our bellies kissed through our clothes, and I cooed over how cute you looked while your hands rubbed the sides of my gravidly swollen middle that stuck out beneath my equally swollen chest.
It took everything in me to hold back a moan. We were both seated at the singles table again, telling us both that we were definitely the ones to blame for the way the other one waddled. "You look so pretty..." I whispered as we sat next to each other, and my hand slowly slid up your thigh to rub at your belly. I could tell that my touch had an effect on you already, and it only made my thighs press closer together. Or, it made them try to press together, being stopped by the belly that rested between them.
"I missed you." You whispered back with the sweetest look on your face that sent shivers up my spine. "I missed you too." I smiled and kept rubbing your belly, noticing that it was smaller than mine. "It looks like you have some catching up to do. How about we go back to my hotel room again? And I'll make you as pregnant as you made me~?" For emphasis, I leaned back in my chair as my belly jutted out, showing off just how knocked up you made me that first night.
"And maybe you can put a few more in me too, and then I'll really have my work cut out for me making you catch up!"