The marriage was great. The honeymoon period was better. You both took a trip to Scotland. God, he was so giddy to show you the highlands where he’d been born, the grassy heather-filled meadows where he ran as a child.

Days of visiting the old castles and swimming in the rocky and choppy ocean waters were pure bliss, both of your hearts filled with nothing but love and happiness.

And all your holes filled with him, either lazy sex at the crack of dawn or rough, fast pounding at the rise of the moon. They didn’t call it the honeymoon phase for nothing.

Oh, but that wasn’t the end. You’d like to believe your newlywed husband was also you’re best friend. The one who went with you to the mall, and all-to-gladly helped you in the changing room when the zipper got stuck. Leans over you in the Starbucks drive through to make sure they get his hot chocolate with Carmel drizzle just right.

The move after the honeymoon was quick, the two of you and his border collie shuffled into a medium sized townhouse near downtown. Mismatched with both your furniture and his, it was a bit uncoordinated, but welcoming and warm at the end of a long day.

And even more welcoming was John himself. The bastard was like a puppy when you were gone, waiting at the door for you to come home and give you some attention. When he was on leave, he didn’t have anything to do, poor guy.

He loved the domestic bliss the two of you had. A shared home, matching wedding rings, (he hung his on the same chains his dog tags were on. Centered over his heart, cold silver thumping against his chest.) There was just one thing that bugged him.

Kids. He wanted kids. It was a strange urge for him, one he’d never even thought about before you’d let him pummel into you without a condom for the first time. Your tight, wet heat practically begging him to leave it a lil’ present. The more the merrier, huh? It took everything within him not to spill inside you before you finished. Those pretty little tears of bliss mixed in with the tight, raw, wet heat of your cunt pulsating around his shaft as you came, god, he was about to blow his load like a horny teenager.

Which, he practically was now, his cock lodged inside of you as you sit on his lap. ”Like a decoration ‘fer me lap”, he’d said. You’d put on one of those true crime documentaries you loved. He didn’t enjoy them too much, hence the bargain. You got to watch your spooky movies, he got to rest his cock inside you.

He was bold tonight, shifting his hips and ”accidentally” brushing up against your clit. John was done arguing with himself while you watched, and finally decided it was time to get past himself and ask the daunting question.

“Aye, lovie? Could ye’ pause yer’ spooky show?” He asked. Strange, his voice was shaky, and not just the husk from having his cock wet. No, this was different. You could tell.

You lifted off his dick just enough to grab the remote from the coffee table, adorned with decorative books filled with photography. Some of them were dogs, his, and some of flowers and pine tree forests, yours. He grunted when you planted yourself back down atop his shaft.

“Sure, what’s buggin’ you?” You murmured, resting your back on his chest.

“I’ve been meanin’ to ask for a while, but..l eh, don’t want ye’ to be mean aboot it,” John mumbled, resting his head on your shoulder.

“On with it, babe,” you hummed. “If you wanna tie me up again, I ain’t against it,” you chuckled.

His already red cheeks flushing a blazing red at the memory. What a night indeed. “I want kids.” He said, ignoring your suggestion. Straightforward, as always. “I wannae see yer’ belly full o’ me bastard, stuff you fucking full of my cum till it weeps oot of yer fucked out pussy,” he said. His voice was husky, filled with something dark. Lust, you recognized.

“You’d be a good mother, lovie, I ken ye’ would,” he added. “Please,” he begged. God, he sounded good begging. “Lemme fuck ye’ full and round of my babies, get yer tits fat with milk,” He grinned, his thoughts getting ahead of him. Eager. That's what he was. So fucking eager to see your belly begin showing.

When you don’t respond, probably too shocked by his forwardness, he chuckles. “You can say noo, but I felt how your wet cunt just squeezed around’ me, love,” he hummed, nibbling your shoulder.

He moaned, breaking his stoic facade. “Fuck, yer cunt is strangling my dick with the idea alone, lassie. Yeah? That what you want? You want my fat fuckin’ prick to blow a load right inside yer tight pussy? Mhmmm, you’d be a good mommy, lass. So good t’me,” he groaned, bucking up into you.

“Cannae wait for an answer when your squeezin’ me like tha’, love,” he confessed. “Please, lemme cum inside you, let me make you a mommy.”