“I just…don’t want your only memories of my body to be like this, you know?” She gestures at her belly and breasts. Her eyes are shining with tears. “Believe it or not, I used to have a tight belly and a nice ass. Now I just have too much ass and too much belly.”
“But this is the belly that carried my son,” I tell her, releasing her hands and putting my fingers on her stomach. “And it is round and smooth and soft and sweet, like my mate.”
Her laugh is choked and she gives a little sniffle. “And my ass?”
“It did not carry my son,” I tease, “But I do not think there is too much of it. I like how much there is.”