Those Lustful Days

My loving companion... Christopher.

I couldn't dare call him my husband, for we've not been suitable to bear children together. Not, for a lack of attempts, on those cold winter nights of course.

From when I first became an adult. And drew a deep breath, felt the life giving air stretch my abdomen for my first time, he and I have been together. Yet as the years wore on, his seed never took root in my body. And so we can never wed.

Yet still we take pleasure in one another's company. We live our fulfilling life, in our small village, on his farm.

Christopher is a strong man, a handsome man. He could be a fine father one day. He built our home nigh single handed. As I tend the gardens, he ventures to the woods to hunt, and to provide for us and the village. How could I be blessed with such love.

Such, love, he has. Love, that swells within my bosom.

Like many men, my darling Christopher is drawn to fertile bodies. Large, rotund, swollen to the peak of feminine limit. The sphere.

It is thus, I give him such lustful performances, whenever our work is done. The art of the deepest breaths. Each inhale I take, pushing deeper into my body beyond my lungs. Into my core. A breath you take in, without letting out. And my stomach swells, my breasts perk, and my bottom bloats.

Christopher gives in to his primal urges, when he feels my swollen belly press against his back as we share a bed. His firming manhood pressing against me when he turns back.

He's figured out, a most lascivious way to reciprocate his feelings for me. He can take ever deeper breaths, larger than any I could. And when our lips touch, he breathes it into me. Filling me, faster than even my practiced breath can. He fills me with his life giving air, in ways his seed never could.

Yet, it was a rare gift that led to our most intimate nights. The traveling smith, brought us the gift of a bellows. A tool made for love. For expanding a woman's femininity beyond even practiced breath. With Christopher's powerful arms, he can pump the bellows, and fill me faster than anything I could ever imagine.

Only comparable to the cursed lustful demises of those maidens who partake of fruit or beer.

I experienced true bliss with the help of those bellows.

Indeed, the experience of becoming a perfect round moon before him, my loving companion. I felt complete. I could nary bend my fingers, unable to turn my head, barely able to whisper in pleasure. He brushed his hand across my skin, and I shivered. His touch gave me pleasure I couldn't have imagined upon my own. The sounds that came from my mouth, the noises that my body made.

The noises of sex. Sex that only the Gods experience. I felt like the moon, the sun, filled with life to limits that would tear me apart if I took in anymore.

Christopher told me my body trembled. It creaked, and it groaned. He had never been more aroused. As I had.

Truly, the experience of fulfillment we experienced that night.

It was intoxicating.

We both craved, what would have happened had he given me another breath.

It's all I can think about now. And I can tell, it's all he can as well. He saw me at my most helpless, my most fulfilled. And wanted to see me complete my expansion. He wanted me to explode into a flurry of stars.

And I want it too.

I want to taste the height of experience, the height of pleasure. To be filled with the breathe of life, beyond what my living body can take. I want to feel him touch my skin, kiss my lips, and enter my womanhood. Until I break my limits and am rendered to nothingness.

We've not touched the bellows again.

But we will.

We know we will.

There will come a time, that Christopher will hold me across his lap. His erection beneath my dress. His hand upon my hip. And he will kiss me. And his breath will fill me until I am swollen, and ready. We'll want more. Every blast from the bellows will push me closer to that beautiful moment we shared again.

And then, that fateful night. We won't stop.

I'll reach the shape of the fullest moon. And become nothingness with a deafening song.

Christopher my love. I'll wait however long you need. But I believe you know. I crave it.