I bought the bouquet on impulse, as I walked through the underground labyrinth of halls and shops that surround my office building. The heavy aroma of life flourishing in winter, a scent captured and held richly thick in the stale dry air of the complex, caught my wandering attention and unconsciously drew my serious thoughts back toward home, evoking for me the woman who waited, anticipating my return. I imagined her smile, her warm needy embrace, and without realizing why my thoughts had taken such a romantic turn, I looked up to face the dozens of dark blossoming rosebuds.

“Hey, Mal, what’ll it be?” asked Cecilia. The small florist with her thick mane of colored hair and bright eyes had sold me ten thousand flowers during the past decade, arming me for courtships, engagement,marriage and now this.

“My love is like a red, red rose,” I recited. Burns is one of those poets who always seemed thin and reedy, yet forever popping off my tongue.

“Sure thing,” Cecilia said. “Dozen? Boxed, bundled or delivered?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I want to hand her a bouquet, when I walk in the door.”

“Gotcha,” the florist said, walking back to the glass cabinets to start choosing my delicate array of buds. “How is your wife?”

“Almost ready to burst,” I said with a smirk.

“When’s she due?”

“Three weeks,” I sighed. Time never goes slower, it seems, than the last month of pregnancy. Cecilia cut the stems with a sharp blade, added some baby’s breath and nestled the flowers in a blanket of green cellophane.

“You’ll get these in water within the hour,” Cecilia instructed, taking my cash and making my change. “Good luck,” she added. “Is it a boy or a girl or do you know?”

“Thanks, probably a boy. I always assume the worst.” Ceclia laughed as I walked away, blossoms in hand.

It strikes as a moment’s joy, the sudden radiance in a woman’s eyes as she receives a flattering gift and I basked in the warmth of Diana’s appreciative glow.

“You’re so sweet,” she said, beaming.

“And you’re so beautiful,” I responded. She held the blossoms close to her smiling face, drinking in the fertile perfume.

“I wish it were spring already,” she said. “Flowers and rain and your dick in my mouth.” Her voice deepened seductively with the lingering provocation.

“Mmmm,” I said, imagining with a hardening throb.

“MOM!” yelled a child, running to join our revelry. “Where did you get those!”

“Your father,” she replied happily and I started upstairs to change my clothes, knowing any redemption of promises would just have to wait until dark.

Our evening came and went. As the hours faded, I sent Diana into a gentle slumber with a long, luxurious back rub, a daily dose of medicine I had long been fond of administering. As the fire began to dim in the fire and my thoughts began to drift into visions of peace and fantasy, I roused Diana sweetly, carefully leading her upstairs to bed, finally reaching the end of yet another day’s journey along expectancy.

Within a crystal vase, the fragrant bouquet of roses adorned Diana’s dresser, filling our bedchamber with the sweet scent of spring love. I nestled behind my pretty, swollen lady in the snug confines of sheets, blankets and pillows. I held Diana closely as night fell deep around us.

Fading into darkness, my weary hands lightly caressed the taut flesh of Diana’s overfull belly, and with a pinch of naughtiness, I cupped and fondled her heavy, heavy breasts. Love consumed me and I kissed her neck and whispered my devotions. She purred softly and rubbed the roundness of her bottom against my admiring cock.

I don’t know when we acquired the habit, but somewhere along the path of this pregnancy, Diana had come to prefer the prod of my dick in her ass. Half asleep, she engaged my rock without preliminaries, without a note of question, without a pause of hesitation. I held myself firmly behind her, the only way I could bring myself close at this point, hard in my lusty desire for her fleshy embrace. I held my breath as Diana sank my length slowly and insistently into the blooming ecstasy of her bottom’s delightful grasp. I buried my face in her hair, suckling the womanly scent of her pregnant glow, pawing at her tits, holding her full belly and as we slowly relaxed, I gently eased my blossoming rhythm of anxious desire into her. Once the fire had been ignited, and the fuck moved hungrily, Diana spread her legs beneath her belly, and touched the heated fertile gap of her pussy to let herself come at once, deeply, wildly, madly.

I spent myself within her flower, and kissed Diana until the spring sun rose.