Freya Fertility

My boyfriend can’t stop taking photographs of my big fertile butt.

Oh my big butt! I always feel like such a slut after yoga.

Come, my love, I’m ovulating.

Few men can handle me. Fortunately my boyfriend is one of the few.

Who’s to say I won’t get knocked up on this trip. My husband certainly fucks me often enough.

It’s all I can do to stay present, so overwhelmingly happy I am to be a woman and be seen as an object of beauty in my husband’s eye.

It’s always all about looking ready, being as breedable as possible for the right kind of man.

I love looking helpless in the library, hoping a handsome man will come up behind me and press his hardening cock against my big butt as he reaches for the top shelf.

Full cut bikini bottoms make me feel so fertile.

I can always tell. He’s mere moments from bending me over the rail and pounding my big butt from behind, drilling me with his hot cock.

I am spending my 20s cycling through pregnancy after pregnancy. I just can’t say no to my husband.

Oh my big butt. Where is my dashing, virile, alpha husband. I am so ready to be taken and bred.

I am home, to him. The house I keep, the bread I bake, the bed whose sheets are always warm from my inviting presence. I take him in, from the world, inside our house, inside me, and I make everything all right. He is my world, and I am his home.

Cycling outfit complication. Ooooh I am so ready to get fucked.

I ride now so I can ride later.

I am fantastically free and curvy and fertile.