Disclaimer: Twilight and all characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

A/N: This is smut for smuts sake. I suppose, like most one-shots are. It is very OOC and I was kind of experimenting with style using the 'stream-of-consciousness', kind of.

This one-shot is for my SMat girls. And more specifically:

Corina- Sorry there is no Gaysian love.

Frannigan- The chalk to my cheese, the Emmett to my Alice, the BILL to my TED. (teehee).

Thanks for being my cheerleaders and for loving me in spite of my shameless SMat.


"Baby, turn the light out!" Bella wailed from beneath me.

"Nope" I said laughing and tickling her fully clothed body. "I want to see you."

"No, I haven't shaved my legs and my stomach is bloated and I have a spot on my left tit and –" I cut her rant off with a kiss and her hands flew to my hair.

"And?" I mumbled against her collar bone.

"And… and I don't want you to see me like that. If you aren't going to switch the light out, then I am not taking off my clothes. You'll just have to work around them." I laughed, loudly.

If it was any other girl, they probably would have used the actual act of sex as the bargaining chip. Not Bella. She was as horny as I was and she wasn't going to let a stupid light, or clothes for that matter, get in the way of what she wanted. This made me wonder why she was so worried about her body. But for the life of me I wouldn't understand the intricacies of her mind, ever. I would probably go stir crazy attempting to unravel her thought process – so I stayed blissfully in the dark most of the time. Not that that didn't drive me insane sometimes too.

"Bella, you really know how to seduce a guy don't you?" I laughed, palming her breasts over the top of her thin night shirt.

"I'm not trying to seduce you Edward, it's not my fault I fell in love with Mr. Grabbyhands." She deadpanned.

"Funny." I replied and faked standing up and away from her writhing body. She grabbed my arm and pulled me back down with force.

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I am trying to seduce you. All the time. I can't help it sometimes. Even when we're in the grocery store or getting gas – I can't help but want to seduce you Edward." She said with a faked high-pitched voice and trying to suppress a giggle.

"Baby, if you don't want to have sex, you just have to tell me. Because I –" I cupped her heat above her pyjama pants. "Can stop this any time I want. It really would be no effort at all on my part." I chuckled and she ground into my hand.

"Oh yeah?" She said raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow and dragged her nails down my back.

"Yes," I gulped, trying to refrain from showing any emotion caused by the sensation of her touch on me. In truth her smiles had more power over me than my own mind did, but I wasn't about to let her know any of that. I was pretty sure she knew what she did to me anyway; there was no point in telling her again. Although the information would probably make her smile and I do love her smiles.

"OK," she said in triumph and rolled out from underneath me to grab her book off the night stand. I stared at her in horror, trying to see her face from behind her brand new copy of Obama's biography. But unfortunately I didn't have X-ray vision and I could have sworn that Obama was giving me a 'you-got-burned' look from the front cover. I shook my head in pity at my own self-cockblocking exclamations. Shame on me.

I was still balanced above her resting shakily on my elbow, with one hand still motionless on her clothed warmth. There were two ways that this could go. I could relent and admit defeat while proclaiming that she was the queen of my heart and turn off the light. Or I could use her little display of nonchalance to my advantage. I knew she was trying to play me, like she usually did. I knew she liked to have the upper hand in the bedroom and honestly that shit was sexy. But it was sexier when she thought she had lost and she got all pouty and forlorn and eventually begged me to take her any damn way I wanted. It had only happened once before but I was pretty sure I wanted to see her chocolate doe eyes plead me into submission again.

Although strangely enough after that one time I remember we had a huge argument over sex being a chore for me and that she shouldn't have to beg her husband to penetrate her. Her words not mine. The make up sex had been great though. I smiled in remembrance.

I rolled off her and sighed loudly and tried with all my self restraint not to smile when I caught her glancing at me through my peripheral vision.

"Well, I guess that's that." I said with faux anger and annoyance and rose to a sitting position; pulling on my sneakers that sat at the side of the bed.

"Where are you going?" She said with genuine wonder, sadness and innocence and I nearly crumbled then. Just to see my girl upset was practically enough for me to give in. I was so wearing the skirt in this relationship. Who was I kidding? This woman's every move spoke to me and determined what my move would be. But I wanted to prove a point. I wanted to prove to her that it didn't matter to me that she hadn't shaved her legs, that she had a bloated stomach or that she had a spot on her left tit. I was fonder of the right one anyway and the little heart shaped freckle that marked the underside of it. I didn't want to say that I loved her in spite of all those things, I loved those things as well because they were her.

She hadn't shaved her legs that week because she had been so busy writing her new play for the youth group that she ran. She was so excited about it and she loved working with the children so much, to the point where she neglected her own personal hygiene. In truth it was just a local youth theatre production but it was something that made her thrive and she was passionate about it and it made me happy when she was happy.

Her stomach was bloated because we had just prepared and eaten a massive dinner. We had laughed, joked and danced to bad eighties power ballads, whilst cutting onions and boiling pasta and then sat down and re-enacted 'Lady and the Tramp'. She had licked the meatball sauce from my nose after I nudged one towards her with it and we had spluttered from laughing so hard when the spaghetti thing didn't quite go to plan.

All her little hang-ups were part of her and our life together and I knew that they were just an excuse because after three years of being married she still felt self conscious around me. I had tried not to take it personally but something had to give. It would be the end of the world before I would stop telling her how beautiful and perfect she was. She just never took it seriously and called me a 'silly man.' I guess it was time for a different tactic.

"I'm going for a jog." I replied in answer to her question.

"What? Why? Edward, don't be silly, it's nearly 2am, come back to bed."

"Nah," I said brushing her off, "Seems I have some energy to burn." I eyed her expectantly and pulled a sweater over my head.

"Oh." She whispered. "I'm sorry, I was just playing, I thought – never mind."

"You thought what?" I asked as I sat on her side of the bed.


"Bella, please don't edit yourself, you know how it frustrates me."

She sighed and sat up to move closer to me.

"I'm sorry, I just thought we were both playing. I always misread these situations Edward. You have to tell me when I am pissing you off. Ugh I am such a crappy wife." She moaned and flopped backwards on the bed.

And that stung. I berated myself because I hadn't meant to make her feel worse about herself. I wanted her to feel comfortable enough with me that the spot on her left tit could wear a sailor's hat and do a jaunty jig whilst singing 'On the Town'. I wanted to kiss her bloated stomach and imagine it swell even more with our future children. And even then I would worship the purpley silvers of her stretch marks. Now she doubted herself as my wife. Ugh I was such a crappy husband.

"Don't say things like that." I leant over and placed a firm kiss on her forehead, pulled away and stared into her deep chocolate eyes. Her mahogany hair was splayed onto the pillow like a shiny quilt and her cheeks blushed furiously. I knew that she was embarrassed at herself because she thought she had angered me in some way and I hadn't done anything but encourage the feeling within her. It was weird that we knew each other so well, loved each other so unconditionally, yet we were still self conscious. She was self conscious in her looks and appeal to me and I was self conscious in my ability to please her and do right by her.

"For that matter," I continued, "don't even think such things. You're perfect." She groaned distastefully.

"Bella, love, you need to learn how to accept a compliment every now and then." She blushed again and looked at me from beneath her long full eyelashes. And all I saw was sadness in her eyes.

"I know, but – " I knew she was going to argue so I cut her off by planting my lips firmly against hers. It was as if this kiss was sealing some sort of unspoken deal to let go of all the insecurities and bullshit and just be able to enjoy each other without having to over think every minute detail. Or at least it was on my part. I rarely got to enjoy my wife with complete abandon and fuck it – I just wanted to be wild for once. I didn't want to have to follow a specific set of rules so that she was comfortable in our love-making. I knew as well as she did that we were both holding back because we were still in the fledgling stages of our marriage.

It wasn't as if the sex wasn't amazing, on the contrary, it was mind blowing and had only gotten more intense after we had gotten married. We fucked on a regular basis, sometimes spontaneously and sometimes in the regimented quickie-before-you-sleep kind of thing. Either way it was still hot and still full of surprises. Bella knew how to do this thing with her tongue that just drove me crazy. I swear the girl had a double jointed tongue. When I had told her as such she had laughed and smacked me hard in the chest saying that I was stupid because tongues didn't have joints. Then we had argued for an hour over my meaning when I said the word 'joint'. To cut a long story short we had ended up driving to Jasper's house to buy some pot and then smoked three joints before falling asleep in a fit of giggles. The next morning Bella used her magical tongue on me.

I digress. My point was that I thought that we were still holding back because of our various hang-ups and shit, I really just wanted us to both let go of them and lock them away in a box. I probably should have just told her this instead of pretending to be mad and storming off on a fake jog. I mean I never jogged. We had a treadmill for fucks sake. Yet she still believed me because she was so self conscious and thought it was natural for me to storm off just because I wasn't getting my own way. I was the one who was using sex as the bargaining chip and making it make decisions in our relationship. Even if I was faking it, I was still using it as something to gain the upper hand. It was kind of painful to realize that you were an asswad and that you were upsetting the one thing that made your world turn because of it.

I pulled away from our kiss and smiled sheepishly at my girl. Because I was the dick that turned a playful night into an angst filled night. This really wasn't my intention. Fuck. I just wanted to see my girl naked, and now I was fucking punishing her and myself for not being able to. Sex was supposed to be fun and it was supposed to be more fun when you could share it with someone who truly cared about you – and who cares more about you than the woman who had declared to love you 'as long as we both shall live'.

And here I was over-thinking things again. Turning her words and actions into something that meant she was scared to show me her body. When in all honesty I probably would have gotten her naked anyway without her caring a dime. We would have had sex twice with a full hour of immense magical tongue foreplay and gone to sleep sweaty and sated and naked wrapped around each other with the light still on. Except I had ruined that because I was scared that I wasn't enough for her.

She loved me with every fibre of her being and I could feel it rolling off of her in waves. It was like I had said, she had the upper hand in the bedroom and I really should have stuck to my own self promise to not try and figure out why she was worried about her body. Because that shit had just driven me stir crazy and almost made me walk out on and perfectly willing and playful wife. Fuck. I guess the intricacies of her mind really did a number on me. I should have just ripped her clothes off there and then, light be fucking damned and ploughed her with the wild abandon that I wished was there in our love-making. It wasn't both of us that were holding back, it was just me.

"Edward?" I heard her husky voice break my reverie and for the life of me I couldn't figure out how long I had been searching her eyes for some answer on what to do next. She placed her book back on the night stand and raised her hands to cup my cheeks. "What are you thinking about?"

And with that question I realized that she was just as confused as me. She was just trying to figure out how my mind was working and why I reacted in certain ways to certain things. As much as we were one and as much as we loved each other we were still individuals with an individual thought process and individual insecurities that probably wouldn't go away with the drop of a hat and the flick of a switch. And for some reason I was really pleased that I was still discovering new things about our relationship. So much so that a big fucking smirk plastered itself across my face. Bella smiled beautifully in response and a little bit in relief and I felt rotten for causing her unnecessary anguish. But I quickly pushed that thought aside and embraced my new 'discovery' epiphany.

"What Baby?" She asked again, giggling and the sound filled me with warmth and comfort. "What are you thinking about?"

"I just really, fucking love you, you know."

"I know," she replied stroking my face with her thumbs.

"No you don't." I growled and she squeaked happily as I spun her on the bed and we were a mess of tangled legs and arms. She laughed loudly as I raised her arms above her head and moved her fingers so that they held onto the bars of the head board.

"Yes, I do." She countered with an air of assurance and grace, like she had never once doubted my love for her and well – shit – that just made me love her more. But I wanted to worship her tonight. I felt as though I needed to do it so that my conscience felt sated and satisfied that I had redeemed myself from my inane, self-deprecating, inner monologue. I undid the little tiny buttons of her night shirt and allowed her to remove her hands from the head board, momentarily, to get rid of the pesky fabric.

"Edward, the light," she gasped dramatically.

"Fuck the light." I said distractedly whilst I nibbled at her belly button and ran kisses all over her bloated stomach. Which really wasn't bloated at all and it annoyed me that she had been lying this whole time. I bet she didn't even have a spot on her tit and I bet her legs were shiny and smooth.

"OK." She said. And it was as easy as that. A simple 'fuck the light' from me and an 'OK' from her was all it had taken. I mentally kicked myself for being a stupid over thinking pussy and for wasting perfectly good magical tongue worship time.

She sat up and moved her hands to the hem of my sweater. And at this point I was mentally having an all out fisty-cuffs fight with myself because it was my fault that I was wearing the stupid sweater in the first place. As she removed the offending article it took no hesitations from me to kick my sneakers onto the floor. I didn't want to have to wage war on myself and declare pistols at dawn because I had wasted time trying to figure out how I could get my wife butt naked in front of me, when she was perfectly willing from the start.

When she collapsed back down in her previous position I shimmied up her body and settled my boxer clad groin against her pyjama clad core. She was warm and smiling happily at me, she was – shaking her head?

"Why are you shaking your head?" I asked as I stared incredulously at her.

"Look at that." She shrieked and I had no clue what she was talking about.

"Look at what?"

"That. That fucking spot." She motioned towards her left tit laughing and smiling not just with her mouth but with her whole face. It lit up her eyes and touched her cheeks and well I just bathed in the essence of her mirth because I wished I could be that carefree. I realized then that her spot, stomach and legs had just all been funny to her. Happy little oddities that she didn't want me to see and she hadn't really cared about that at all.

I looked at her left tit and saw the spot. Spot wasn't even the right word for it. Neither was pimple or zit or even blemish. It was the tiniest little mark that I couldn't even make out properly and she had had worse ones on the end of her nose.

"Hello there, you bastard." I said to her tit and kissed the 'spot'.

"Edward, ew, don't kiss my spot – that's just gross." She laughed.

"Don't say 'ew' baby it makes you sound like a fifteen year old." I laughed back. And palmed her tits rolling the hard pebbles of her nipples between my thumb and forefingers as if I was tuning her frequency. Come in Bella, we have reports of serious snow storms heading your way, you may not want to leave you bedroom for a week. Over. Roger-fucking-that.

"But you met me when I was fifteen." She said sweetly.

"Yeah," I said sighing and took my favourite right nipple into my mouth, only to speak around the mound of her breast. "Maybe we should break out the cheerleading outfit, you know, for old time's sake?" I chuckled and flicked my tongue over the stony pebble making her moan and squirm with delight.

"Edward – take that back – I was never a cheerleader." Her fingers latched onto my hair and pushed me harder into her breast. I wasn't going to pay any attention to the left one because to be quite honest I was still pissed off at it.

"But you should have been" I said assuredly as my hands moved to the waistband of her pyjama pants and began to move them to her thighs. I stopped mid-removal though and outright laughed into her chest. Because this was all just really funny now, and I understood that it was funny and that I was allowed to laugh about it because that's what married people did.

"You're right I'm sorry I take it back, I take it all back, and you were never a cheerleader."

"Why are you laughing?" She giggled.

"Shave much?" I said raising my head and lifting my eyebrow in faux-scrutiny.

"Edward!" She snorted and shrieked and laughed full of joy and mortification and that was the wild abandonment. Right there. That was the freeing, flying, liberated, open, boundless, unregimented feeling that I had craved and she had had it all along. I wondered secretly if she had been holding out on me – but that was a slippery slope that I wasn't willing to slide down again. I knew for a fact I would just come back to the same justification I had before. It was me, not her, I needed to loosen up and start thinking of fucking as fucking, sex as sex, love-making as love-making. Not over think it and not read into her playful asides too much. Bella was everything if not completely true and genuine and I remembered that was why I fell in love with her in the first place. I stopped that particular train of thought before I was ready to have the pistols at dawn speech with myself again.

It had been there all along. I had just been too hung up in my own insecurities over her self-consciousness to notice it and well this shit was just getting really fucking confusing now. It was time to just let go and that was what I did.

I caught her mid-mortified-flail and kissed her deeply. I nibbled and tugged at her bottom lip while her tongue darted out and massaged with mine. We smiled into the kiss because that was what it was, it was a happy kiss, full of every happy feeling we had ever shared and were going to share in the future. I was smiling because I was an aforementioned self-proclaimed asswad and I was pretty sure that she was smiling because of the same reason, even though I hadn't proclaimed it out loud. I didn't much care for the why of her smiling anyway, as long as she was smiling it made me happy and it made me even happier if she was smiling because of me – even if it was because I was an asswad.

I wasn't sure when the kiss changed but at some point I became aware of the fact that she had removed her pyjama pants off her legs completely and was now spread eagled and butt naked beneath me and my suddenly overly hard erection was pressing eagerly into her heated and really really really wet centre. I felt it through my boxer shorts and groaned loudly in response.

Her answer to my groan was to press herself more firmly into me. I didn't really have a problem with that, just that she was already driving me crazy and if she kept this up I probably wouldn't last long. As soon as I would see her magical tongue dart anywhere near my nether-regions I would be an utter goner. Saying that though I really couldn't help myself from pushing back towards her with equal force. She whimpered in response and I really fucking needed to hear that sound again so I pretty much just started to dry-hump her, whilst she moaned repeatedly and I peppered feathery kisses all over her upper body.

As soon as the words 'dry' and 'hump' entered my head I was immediately transported back to various make-out sessions with Bella in the back of my beloved Volvo, when we were fifteen, seventeen, fuck, even twenty-three before the Volvo had met its untimely death. Sob.

This was a good train of thought. I was spectacularly distracting myself from the sensation of Bella's dripping wet heat rubbing feverishly against my own blood-hot groin. Thinking about the Volvo was win. It was a sad day when she had died. She was about to hit the 100,000 mile mark and at 999,995 she hit a ditch in the road and literally just stopped breathing. Bella, Emmett, Jasper, Alice and Rosalie had to put up with my moping for weeks.

Well, until Bella surprised me with an Aston Martin and proceeded to call me James Bond for three days. That was hot. We had played Bond and Bondgirl with bondage. Just thinking about that car sex was enough to get me hard. And, so, I was brought back to the present. It was futile really, all trains of thought lead me back to the hotness of my wife. I may as well just give in, dive in head first, let bygones be fucking bygones and commit to the fact that I was gonna come, hard, whether I liked it or not. It was fine, I would probably be rock solid again within seconds, Bella had that kind of ability. She could wake up my completely soft cock just by looking at me with a specific glint in her eye. She really had far too much power.

Just as I had sped up my rhythm, dangling on that precipice of barley there-ness and total oblivion, I felt Bella jolt and squirm. I looked up to her face and she was looking at me with a severe frown.

"What is it Baby?" I asked breathlessly. "What did I do?" Her hips had all but stopped but her hands still had a firm grip in my hair.

"Edward Anthony Cullen," she started and I knew I was in deep trouble; I never got my full name unless she was really pissed at me. "You better not come until you're inside me." She warningly laughed.

Well, fuck, what do you say to that? This woman even knew my 'I-am-really-fucking-close-to-blowing-my-load-but-don't-want-to-face'. I couldn't hide anything anymore. Even if I wanted to. Stupid face reading, magic tongued, absurdly sexy wife. I was done for.

"Yes, maam." I replied and immediately felt like a loser. Who says 'yes maam'? Seriously. She just laughed and spun us over so that she straddled my waist.

"Are we playing madam and slave again?" She hissed delightedly in my ear.

Noooooo. Why did she have to mention that? Oh god, she really was torturing me. Suddenly my mind was full of images of Bella. Bella in leather. Bella tying a blindfold around my eyes. Bella snapping handcuffs around my wrists. Bella's magic tongue. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuucccckk! Volvo death. Volvo death. Volvo death. Volvo death. Vulva depth. Shit. Fuck. Screw it!

I grabbed onto her hips and met her eyes with total intensity. With her new found face-reading abilities Bella nodded and whipped my boxers from my body in one fluid motion. Like she was a magician whipping a table cloth out from underneath neatly placed china. And she was so skilled that the china remained standing and didn't even shake. I briefly wondered if she would be able to pull a rabbit out of my favourite beanie hat but realized that there was something else – possibly as delicate as china – remaining unshaken and standing to full attention. Bella licked her lips, animatedly, as she eyed my completely engorged cock. I really fucking wish she hadn't done that because that magic tongue owned my soul.

Without sound, warning and barely any movement I shifted my hips and was inside of her hot, tight, pulsing channel. The tunnel that led to untold mysteries, Bella's insides, and parts of her that I would never see. I shook my head of that thought because it was a bit weird to think about seeing your wife's organs whilst you were inside of her.

"SHIT!" She shouted and I thought I had hurt her with my completely fucking necessary inevitable body invasion. But one look at her face told me different. Her eyes were glazed and her lips hung open loosely. I mentally patted myself on the back as I realized I had wicked cool face-reading abilities too. We really were a match made in heaven. Maybe we were superheroes? My inner twelve year old high-fived me and we geeked out together.

She licked her lips again as her hips started to undulate, seemingly of their own accord, well at least that what the look in her eyes told me. I knew that hips didn't just move of their own accord so I knew that I needed to practise my face-reading, at least just enough so that I was on par with my She-Ra wife.

She-Ra and face-reading were immediately forgotten when I felt my cock slide snugly in and out of her impossibly warm core. It wasn't really the epic grinding sensation that I noticed first but the sheer hotness of her insides like she was my own personal heater and I had just plugged myself in to get warm. She felt slippery and wet and I hoped that I wouldn't get an electric shock from my heater. I fucking giggled in my head. I guessed it was the endorphins released when you are just totally and completely beyond euphoria. I never giggle. That was Bella's M.O. I was most certainly a chuckler or a bellower, not a giggler. Gigglers were –

"Oh, fuck, yes!" I interrupted myself with my own vocalization of how Bella surely was an orgasmatronbot working me into a near state of stupidness. "Yes Baby" I yelled, making myself slightly hoarse and having to cough afterwards.

Bella didn't notice because she was somewhere else completely. I mean she was here with me, and her perfectly formed hot little body was here with me too but as I tapped into my face-reading skills I realized that she was experiencing something resembling my own euphoria. I hoped we could meet in limbo and have fun flying limbo sex. It would be so cool because it would be like being an astronaut in space, with zero –gravity. Was it even possible to have sex with zero-gravity?

Fuck I was fucking distracting tangent KING today! I was so proud of myself, in fact, that I drilled harder into her. I was pretty certain that the way my surprisingly pot-less mind was working tonight I could probably go on fucking her forever and ever and never come. I briefly wondered if I had taught myself tantric sex without even realizing it. Fuck you Sting, I am trantromania!

"Edwar-r-rd!" Bella yelped and dug her nails into my shoulders. I had no clue how she was doing it but she was moving back and forth and up and down at the same time. It was like her hips were shifting one way but the rest of her body was shifting another way. And fuck ME - it felt amazing. I was even slightly impressed with myself because I managed to keep my hips moving as I sat up to kiss her hot plump mouth. We swallowed each others moans and limbo-Bella came back to me or I went to her and we were now having the fabled zero-gravity astronaut limbo sex. I guess I could scratch that fantasy off my list of ways to sex up my wife.

I ran my hand down her back and realized she was slick with shiny sweat and I kind of wanted to lick it off her. Even though we probably smelt really disgusting I was so lost in the atmosphere of the room that couldn't quite possibly fathom why anybody would ever want to do anything else except have sex. What was the point in working, or driving, or eating, or showering, or speaking…?

"Oh my god, yes Edward, fuck me, yes!" Oh right, that was why we spoke. Bella's beautifully low, impossibly sexy, husky voice was the reason that human beings had learnt the art form of words, adverbs, adjectives, nouns, pronouns, complex conjunctive sentences.

"Angh." Apparently I had reverted to caveman grunts. Oh well, we can't all be the He-Man to his She-Ra. But by the power of grey skull I would fucking try to be.

Bella's body began trembling sporadically and as I felt her thighs clench harder around me and her hot passage get even tighter I knew she was close and I was possibly about to die. She pulled really hard on my hair as I licked and nipped at her earlobe. My hands on her hips helped her in her rise and fall onto my cock and I cheekily let my thumb inch towards her swollen nub. As I pressed down hard upon the little orgasm-making-button Bella threw herself backwards and her hands landed on my lifeless shins. She came hard on me pulsing and vibrating and well – just really fucking hard. So hard in fact that I followed close behind. And it wasn't one of those quick shocking climaxes that die almost as soon as they begin, but you still feel the buzz afterwards. It was a really long drawn out, almost painful orgasm. But the pain just added to the pleasure as I cursed and cried and emptied everything of myself inside her.

And I was still going. I jerked and spasmed and I am pretty sure she came again but I couldn't really tell because I couldn't, for all the sand in the Sahara, tell you my own name in that moment because everything was focused upon the intensity of my Herculean spillage and my Greek milk maid.

"Fuck-ing hell." She laughed excitedly. "Where the hell did that come from Edward?" And I looked into the face of some chick who was sitting on my dick. Who was she? What was I doing here? Wait, who am I? She said 'Edward' right? I must be Edward. But who the hell was she? Think Edward, think.

"Yo, Edward, you in there?" She giggled and I would remember that giggle anywhere. It sung to me like pretty little rainbows or cute little unicorns and leprechauns dancing – wait no not leprechauns. They were evil.


My life, my wife, my superhero She-Ra, Greek goddess of a milker, orgasmatronbotonian, face-reading, magic-tongued, extraordinarily formidable fuckathon. The most gormless smile you have ever seen slapped itself proudly upon my face.

"Jesus, are you OK Baby?" She asked smilingly.

"Um." And that was about the only coherent thing I could say at this point in time, because if I said anything else I thought for sure I was going to tell her everything that had been running through my mind this entire night even down to the electric-shock-heater tangent. And I would never live it down. She would constantly refer to her vagina as my heater and ask me if I would want to 'plug it in'. And I just wasn't cool with my girl demeaning her perfectly velvet pussy that way.

I was very aware of the fact that I was still buried deep inside of her. And the sensation was somewhat overwhelming. I was so high on the best orgasm of my entire fucking sexual history that every feeling, every twitch and every movement still sent jolts and tremors through me and I felt like my innards were now outers and I had been turned inside out. Ren and Stimpy style.

I could feel my cock softening and thought it was about time that it was detracted from her because no doubt she was feeling extra sensitive too. My face-reading abilities told me that as well as the golden glow that was covering her entire body. It was like she was on fire or suffering from radiation poisoning because I was pretty sure that I could hear her skin humming. I let another I-am-king smile grace my features because I knew she had been royally fucked.

As I pushed at her hips and slipped effortlessly from my safe-haven we both groaned because we were still really receptive to the fact that orgasms like that don't show up very often. But we both understood that it was now time to bask in the gloriousness of our epic sexing.

A bloated stomach, that wasn't really bloated, a spot that wasn't really a spot, unshaved legs that were just funny and a light bulb that stayed on all night whilst sweaty naked limbs and tangled hair splayed ceremoniously out on top of one another were the last of the trophy hang-ups and thus the last things that I thought about as I caressed my girls heart-shaped ass and massaged us both into an abandoned and insecurity lacking sleep.

The next day we woke up and fuck if we were going anywhere because we had the mother of all worse cases of sore sex muscles known to man. That was OK with me though because my girl stayed naked all day and I drew a smiley face around the 'spot' on her left tit whilst she shaved her legs in the bath and then wrote 'Mr. Grabbyhands' into the steam on the mirror.