How To Draw Stretch Marks Novels & Stories

I don’t want to interrupt my mate while he’s making battle alliances just because I feel a bit weepy. I force myself to get up and out of bed, even though I feel like I could sleep for a year. I’m almost four months along now, and the baby is more active than ever. He’s also creating new challenges for my body – like testing the limits of my bladder, stomach and brain. I move in front of my mirror to marvel at my round belly, running my hands over my stretched skin. I’d been worried that my stretch marks would be gigantic since my body is trying to cram nine months of growth into six, but I see only a few feathers of purple and white around my sides and breasts. It’s also difficult to feel s

Firm. I closed my eyes. I tried to paint in my mind. The lines were still wrong. I opened my eyes. She was licking my underarm now. Her tongue traced the muscle. The hair. The scent of me. She moaned against my skin. Her hand never stopped stroking my cock. I reached for the sketchpad beside the bed. Charcoal in my other hand. I started to draw her. The line came out clean. Sharp. Alive. I drew her eyes. The way they looked up at me. Endearing. Devoted. I drew her mouth. The way her lips wrapped around my balls. I drew her hair. The way it fell across her shoulder as she licked my underarm.

I jolted—gasped. His thumb circled—slow, slick—spreading it. Then one finger—pressing, gentle but insistent—breaching the tight ring. “Breathe,” he said. “Relax for Uncle Mark.” I tried. The stretch was strange—burning, full, wrong and right at the same time. He worked it in slow—knuckle deep—then out—then two fingers. Scissoring. Stretching. My cunt clenched—empty, jealous—dripping onto the workbench.