The look on my husband's face when my alpha buries his manho..

The look on my husband's face when my alpha buries his manhood inside of me for the very time during one of our weekends together is absolutely priceless. And no matter how frequently we're together with him, it never changes. Because as generously thick and long as my y0ung stud is, getting him fully embedded can be a painstaking process that can take up to one or two very slow and excruciatingly delicious minutes. During these precious and intimate moments, the look of wonderment on Scott's face as my pretty little vagina slowly stretches to accommodate my bull is an absolute joy to behold.... When I actually have the luxury to sit back and enjoy it, that is. Because until I completely adjust to my alpha bull, there are generally moments that can only be described as discomfort. And trust me, that's putting it mildly. It's during these "preliminaries" where Scott often experiences what I assume is only a natural compulsion to intercede out of concern for the well being of his pretty little wife. If only my husband could appreciate these moments the way a female can. This entire scenario puts me in the problematic position of having to both manage my husband's unease with certain visual and auditory cues that he's frankly just not accustomed to experiencing when the two of us make love, while also simultaneously trying to accept a very large and sometimes impatient anaconda into my vagina. Personally, my goal is always to get through these first 2 to 5 minutes as quickly and efficiently as possible. Because the jurassic-sized orgasms that are waiting for me on the other side simply cannot be enjoyed until I do. But ironically, Scott's presence creates a distraction for me that invariably prolongs the very part that he dislikes witnessing the most. And unfortunately, I sometimes get frustrated with my sweet husband's squeamishness in these moments, resulting in reactions on my part that can often be as spiteful and vitriolic as the utterances of a woman locked in the throes of labor. Ones that often begin with me snapping something akin to "Just because you've never come close to maing a woman feel so fucking full... " Over the years I've often wondered if it might be better to simply just make Scott wait in the lobby or hotel bar until I've been appropriately sized for the weekend. But I always come back to the fact that having him see for himself the things that a more endowed man can elicit from his wife - both the good and the bad - is just better for our marriage😊