‘We are addicted to our thoughts. We cannot change anything if we cannot change our thinking.’
– Santosh Kalwar
So much has changed, before and after the birth of our first baby. So much, in fact, that I will be writing a final part of my pregnancy sex series for the fourth trimester – sex after birth and in the early months of our daughter’s life. But in advance, I couldn’t ignore the Wicked Wednesday ‘before and after’ prompt as having a baby is about the biggest life changing event I’ve ever been through.
Because there has been a big change from how I was before – I can’t stop thinking about his cock.
In what may come as a surprise to some, particularly those who warned me that my libido may take a further hit when breastfeeding, my sex drive came roaring back almost immediately after delivery. I hadn’t realised how dormant my libido had become during the final months of pregnancy but it has become achingly clear that I have been missing something. Something important.
And now I can’t stop thinking about his cock.
Obviously, it’s been there all the time! Lying thick and long against his thigh, or outlined against his underwear. It’s not as if I hadn’t felt his cock pressing against my arse at night or watched him idly, or perhaps less idly, playing with it in the bath. Watched as he casually, or maybe not so casually, stroked the whole length, occasionally rubbing his thumb around the head. And it’s not like I hadn’t really enjoyed being fucked by him and his beautiful, hard cock, enjoyed being completely filled as he thrust deep inside me.
It’s just that, before, I didn’t think about his cock and the delicious things it could do when it wasn’t right there in front of me. I’d stopped thinking about sex and his cock and everything that used to turn me on. And even further back, before the pregnancy, I didn’t realise how often I thought about his cock as it was just how we were; it was what we did, what I did. A lot. But now, after this huge change, the return of what I hadn’t even realised that I’d lost is intoxicating!
Because now, I think about it all the time. I think about how his cock is just there, right behind the button fly of his jeans. I think about how ridiculously soft the skin is and how hot it makes me to feel him harden under my fingers. I think about kneeling in front of him and pressing my face into his groin, inhaling the intoxicating scent of him. I want to taste him. I want to devour him. I want like I’ve not wanted for quite some time…
When I reach down to touch him through his pyjamas, I can feel the shape of his cock through the thin fabric, feel the bumps of veins on the shaft and the ridge as it swells out into the head. And as I delicately feel out the topography, I remember all the times I’ve touched him through his clothes – in public places, sat in darkened bars or beneath coats on the Tube. I remember how much I wanted him then, and much I want him now, and how I had almost forgotten it before.
No, not forgotten; taken for granted perhaps. There was so much else going on before, so much to think about – pregnancy, fear of birth, apprehension at change – that I had forgotten all of the wonderful, delicious, hot, hot things I could be thinking about instead. Before, I’d forgotten how much I love to think about his cock. How much I love to think about what EA and I could do together next.
And now it’s ‘after’ and there’s so much to do – keep a baby alive, keep myself sane – but not that much to think about.
So I’m thinking about his cock.