What I Go To School For- part twenty-eight
When the doorbell rings, I get off the couch with a groan and make my way to the door. My body is stiff from spending a whole day slaving away in the kitchen yesterday. It was worth every second, but I’m glad we aren’t going out today after all.
“Morning!” Cheryl says cheerfully when I open the door. She pulls me into a hug and steps inside. Geoff nods politely at me and follows her.
“Mornin’, hon,” I smile. Cheryl and I are very close in age, so it feels weird that she’s my mother-in-law. She’s alright, though. Maybe I’d be friends with her in a different life. But I still don’t forgive her for what she did to Rebecca. My sweet girl is still traumatised from the years of abuse. Just this morning, she stood in front of the mirror and complained about her hip dips, part of her body that I love.
I don’t think she realises sometimes how hurtful the things she says are, not just about herself. She points out things she thinks are flaws, and I know I have the same issues, but she doesn’t stop to think that she could be making me insecure, too. She isn’t, though. I learned a long time ago that I was blessed with being voluptuous, whether I liked it or not. And I didn’t like it for a long time, but now I do. It got me my gorgeous wife, after all. And I know she loves my body, she tells me every day. So I wish she would love her own body just as much.
I also don’t want Rory to get into the same mindset as Bec. Our sweet girl is beautiful, like her mama. And I want her to always feel that way.
“Bec is getting Rory dressed,” I explain. “We’re potty training her, and things got a bit messy this morning,” I laugh. “Can I get you a coffee?”
“Oh, that would be marvellous,” Geoff smiles. “Thank you.”
“Do you have any tea?” Cheryl asks.
“Sure do, Bec loves the stuff,” I tell her with a smile. “Sit down, she might be up there for a while,” I tell them.
When I return with their drinks, I notice Cheryl looking at our photos. I love having photos of us around our house; it makes it feel homely, and it reminds me how lucky I am.
“That was our first Christmas together,” I tell her as she pauses by a photo of Bec in my arms by the fire at my mom’s house.
“She looks so happy in these,” Cheryl says. “You’re really good for her, Melissa.”
“She’s good for me,” I say, feeling all warm and fuzzy.
Just then, I hear footsteps in the hallway upstairs, and we both look up to see Bec bouncing down with Rory in her arms. Rory is giggling, her hair bouncing with each step. Her hair is blonde now, like Rebecca’s. She’s constantly changing as she grows. Her hair was so dark as a baby, and then we thought she might be turning ginger, which I’d have loved, and now she is a little blondie.
“Gooood morninggg!” Bec says happily, making Rory giggle as they jump down the last step. Bec puts our daughter on the floor, and she runs towards us, arms up. She falls halfway, but gets back up again and keeps going.
We learnt that if you ignore her when she trips, she usually just gets up and carries on. If you make a big deal out of something minor, that’s when the tantrums start. Welcome to Schemmenti parenting 101.
“Nonna!” she says, reaching Cheryl.
“No, honey, that's Nanny,” Bec corrects. “And Pop Pop!”
“Pop,” Rory smiles, toddling over to them. Bec makes her way to my side and presses herself in close. I love it when she comes to me for comfort, big or small. I put my arm around her and kiss her head as we watch her parents encourage our daughter to say their names.
“We’re going to take her to the park and then out for lunch, if that's okay?” Cheryl asks, and Bec nods.
“Amazing, you can keep her for dinner too if you want,” she says, and I smirk at her enthusiasm.
“Are you sure?” Cheryl asks.
“How about we just start with lunch for now,” I say, being the voice of reason. I know my wife, and I know she will miss Rory after a few hours, no matter how long she plans for us to stay in bed.
Geoff smiles. “That’s a good idea. We can work up to having her longer,” he says. “It’s been a long time since we've had a baby to look after. And we didn’t do such a good job then,” he mumbles sadly.
“Anyway,” Bec says, pulling away to grab Rory’s backpack. “This is her bag. Everything you need is in here. And I mean everything.”
“Thank you,” Cheryl says, finishing her tea. “Okay, say bye-bye,” she says, holding Rory’s hand. Our sweet girl waves at us, her smile is wide, and she holds onto her nanny as they leave. Bec watches them through the window, and I know she’s wondering whether she's making a good decision.
“I trust them,” I tell her. “Believe me, I wouldn’t let her go with them if I didn’t.”
“I know,” she says, cuddling up to me. We watch them strap her into their car seat, and then they drive away.
“So,” I say, wrapping my arms around my wife. “What do you have planned first?”
“I was thinking we could have a bath?” she suggests, and I smile, running my hands up her back.
“Sounds perfect,” I say, kissing her softly. “Come on.”
Fifteen minutes later, we are in the hot water, candles burning at the end of the tub. Bec is lying with her back against my front, and I don’t know about her, but I am so relaxed. I am trailing my hand up and down her arm, and she is mindlessly stroking my knee. And it is so soft and intimate. I love our adventurous sex life, but I love moments like this just as much. Fleetwood Mac is playing softly from our bathroom speaker, which is used to playing Baby Shark these days more than anything, and Bec is quietly singing along every so often.
“Lean forward,” I say, grabbing the body wash and lathering it in my hands. She scoots forward a bit, and I begin to rub it into her shoulders and down her back, kneading the skin. Her back has been sore recently, so I take this moment to take care of her.
“That feels so good,” she moans, and my pussy starts to throb. I think I could be 90 years old, and I would still get wet if she made that noise. But this isn’t about sex right now; that will come next. But right now, I want to ease some of my wife's discomfort.
“Good,” I say, working on a particularly stubborn knot near her shoulder. I know that holding your arms up to write on a whiteboard all day is way more painful than you would think.
“We should make a start on the Christmas shopping soon,” she says, and I laugh.
“Baby, I started ages ago,” I tell her. She cranes her neck to look at me.
“Yes, darling. And you will never find my secret stash,” I smirk. She laughs, leaning back against me again. She slides her back up and down against my front, so my boobs are all soapy, and then she giggles.
“Oops,” she says with a cheeky smile.
“You’re trouble,” I tell her. She spins round in the bath and straddles my lap, and then she rubs her own chest against mine. Our soapy boobs slip up and down, and she leans forward to kiss my neck.
“Can we get out now?” She asks, lying against me.
“Rinse off the mess you’ve made first,” I laugh, and she smirks, grabbing the shower head and turning on the water. She rinses away the soap and then climbs off me. She turns around, and then, like the naughty girl she is, she bends in front of me and pushes her ass into my face.
“Whoops,” she giggles again, stepping out of the tub.
“Oh, you’re in for it now,” I say, standing up quickly, and she squeals, laughing as she grabs her towel and runs into the bedroom. I love how much fun we have together. Joe was always so serious; we never laughed. And Bec and I rarely stop laughing.
I wrap myself in my towel and follow her into the bedroom, where she is sprawled on the bed in her towel, giggling. It’s no wonder Rory laughs all the time when she sees Bec giggling so often. And she has a beautiful smile, so I will never complain.
“Whatcha thinking?” she asks, and I stare into her eyes as I drop my towel and climb onto the bed.
“That you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, and I am so lucky you married me,” I tell her. I kiss her, hovering over her body, and she moans, wrapping her legs around my waist. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, sweetheart,” I tell her, climbing off the bed and heading to our toy drawer.
Rebecca has made me much more adventurous. I thought I had a colourful sex life before, but I knew nothing. I grab the strap-on, slide in a thick, ribbed dildo, and then pick up a metal butt plug, holding it into the light. I raise my brow at her, and she grins.
“Yes, please,” she says, so I grab the lube, too. When we had our fun little threesome in Italy, Marcel put his thumb in her ass. Bec confessed to me later that it felt amazing, and she wanted to try it again. We started with fingers, and then we introduced butt plugs. She’s not quite ready to try anything bigger, and that’s okay with me. I don’t fancy having anything in my ass, but I will do anything for my girl.
She gets on all fours, and I praise Jesus because, fuck me, she’s incredible.
I squirt some lube down her ass and rub some into the plug.
“That’s cold,” she giggles, and then she moans as I rub the lube against her asshole. I rub gently, slowly opening her up, and then I press the plug into her, making her groan happily. It looks so fucking sexy, poking out of her.
“Good?” I check, and she nods, leaning forward. As I get the strap-on up my legs, she positions herself so her ass is in the air and her chest is against the bed. She wiggles, and I grin. I glide a finger through her folds, and she is more than ready for me, so I position myself behind her and, with a slow thrust, I enter her.
“Oh Jesus,” she moans, and I agree. Oh, Jesus, indeed. I love watching the toy slide in her until it completely disappears.
“Good girl,” I say, squeezing her ass cheeks. “You take me so well, hon.”
“Yeah?” she asks, gripping the sheets as I start to find a steady pace.
“Yeah, baby,” I say. “You are such a little whore for me, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Mommy,” she moans. “That feels amazing.”
“I’m going to make you come, and then you are going to ride me,” I tell her. “Okay?”
“Yes, Mommy,” she gasps as I slam into her harder. I grab her hips, and I make short, hard thrusts. I can feel her starting to shake beneath me. I love that I can do this to her. She is putty in my hands. “Mel,” she whines. “I’m so close.”
“Come for me, princess,” I tell her, becoming breathless as I thrust. I fight through a cramp in my leg, wanting Bec to feel good.
She moans loudly, pushing back against me and then falling forward as she comes. The dildo slides out of her, and I grin, squeezing her ass as I stop moving. I lean down, and I press a soft kiss to the back of her shoulder, and she reaches her arm around and holds me on top of her, panting against my face.
“That felt amazing,” she says, and I grin. She eventually lets go of me, and I climb off the bed. When she moves, I take her place, and I lie on my back, holding my hands out for her. I think I love it when she rides me the most. I get to lie back and watch as she uses me to make herself feel good. And if we get the position perfect, I get to feel good as well.
I hold her hands as she climbs up onto the bed, and then she squats above me. “Let me feel how wet you are now,” I say, reaching out to rub her glistening pussy. “Soaked,” I confirm, sliding my finger into my mouth to suck off her juices. “You taste so sweet when you’re pregnant, I love it.”
“Really?” she asks as she holds the dildo against her pussy and then slides down onto it. She eases herself down until she is fully seated, and then she positions her legs beside mine.
“Yes, baby. It’s yummy,” I grin. I reach out my hand and place my palm flat on her belly. She’s smaller this time; she was already very visibly pregnant at fourteen weeks last time. And this time, you can only tell when she is naked or wearing skin-tight clothes. Lucky me.
She places her hand on top of mine and starts to bounce, her mouth falling open as she does. The base of the dildo hits my clit, and I moan, using my other hand to grip her hip. I pull her back and forth, helping her grind against me. She sounds incredible, and I know from the face she’s pulling that she feels incredible too.
“Don’t stop,” I moan as I feel my own orgasm building, and she grins.
“I won’t, baby, I’m close.”
“Good girl,” I say. My sweet wife has a praise kink, something we discovered when we first got together, and I know she loves the encouragement. “Mommy’s good little girl,” I tell her, throwing my head back.
Her pace increases, and my orgasm spills over me, taking me by shock, and my hips buck into her, making her moan loudly.
“Fuck!” she screams. “I’m coming!”
“Yes!” I exclaim, opening my eyes and watching her. I am becoming far too sensitive as the dildo hits my clit over and over again; it is almost torture. And then she stops, shuddering and moaning softly before she collapses against my chest, breathless and sweaty.
“Good girl,” I tell her again, grabbing her ass cheeks and thrusting into her again. She whimpers, and I giggle. “Too much?” I laugh, and she turns her head to face me, looking into my eyes.
“You’re a sex pest,” she says breathlessly, pressing a kiss to my lips, and I can't help but smile against her.
“I never used to be,” I tell her. “It’s all your fault.”
