This thought keeps circling back: she’s enjoying every moment of her pregnancy party. The house at 700, marked with a number that seems to echo her freedom, is where it all unfolds. She stands there, partially clothed, her pink-highlighted hair catching the sunlight. The door behind her, slightly ajar, hints at the private world inside. And I know, without a doubt, that she’s not thinking about me. But she’s not alone. The selfie she took, her red hair cascading down, captures a moment of pure self-indulgence. The mirror reflects her satisfaction, her eyes gleaming with a secret joy. It’s a joy I’m not part of, a joy that belongs to someone else. The bull, I imagine, is enjoying her just as much as she’s enjoying him. The thought of their bodies entwined, her pussy welcoming his cock, sends a shiver down my spine.
Bedroom Encounters: Her Pleasure, His Satisfaction
The bedroom photos tell a story of raw, uninhibited pleasure. Her red hair splayed across the pillow, her body arching under his weight. He’s on top, his camouflage shorts barely concealing his excitement. The close-up shots leave nothing to the imagination. Her legs are spread wide, inviting him in, and he’s more than eager to oblige. The creampie, a testament to their passion, glistens on her thighs. It’s a sight that both torments and arouses me, a reminder of what I’ve lost and what she’s gained. And yet, I can’t look away. Her pleasure, her freedom, is intoxicating. The thought of her, a cum slut in her own right, enjoying every moment of her pregnancy party, is a bitter pill to swallow. But swallow it I must, for this is her choice, her desire. And I, the cuckold, am left to watch, to imagine, and to endure the sweet agony of her satisfaction.








