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Taking Snuffy out to the botanical gardens in the city. We hold hands walking slowly and admiring the flowers. She's wearing my old stitched up band singlet (it used to be black, but it is practically grey now and ridden with cigarette burns) that's split on the sides, covering her exposed skin with my denim coat and dark stone rolled jeans to match. Snuffy stomps around in army disposal boots we found at a flea market.
We go to the butterfly enclosure, and she giggles with glee when a large, blue butterfly lands on her nose covering her entire face that sips at her sweat. She is covered in them since she acciden spilled the nectar cups all over herself as we went in. Snuffy can't stop laughing because the bugs tickle her so much.
Snuffy and I share a meal at the Cafe there. Some of the native birds try to have a few pecks at our meal. We start hand feeding them on the edge of the restaurant to not disturb the other patrons.
What hits me the most is when she enters the farm animal enclosure. She is filled with absolute bliss feeding a calf with a bottle. She strikes me with *THAT* look feeding that little creature.
Snuffy's grip on my hand grows ever tighter. She practically drags me through the exotics, and I get slammed into a shelf exiting the gift shop. The ride home is mostly silent which worries me a bit.
We pull into the driveway. I lock the door. I then get jumped by Snuffy. I didn't have a chance to undress fully. She has that baby fever.
...
We lay on the wooden floor in the landing next to eachother. Panting, drenched in sweat. The steam marks of her arse leave an imprint on the flooring, along with the slipping hazard of our juices. She gives me a fist pump, telling me I did a good job. Her other hand makes circles over her womb.
