Giving Thanks

With a kiss on her forehead I bid my daughter goodnight, tucking her in again ever so slightly before she reaches up to give me a hug of her own, her small arms wrapping around my neck.

“Goodnight daddy,” my daughter Emma yawns, the effects of Thanksgiving dinner taking its toll on her.

“Goodnight dear, sweet dreams,” I reply, ruffling the silky brown hair on top of her head.

Just before leaving Emma‘s room I flip the lightswitch, enveloping my first child in darkness and leave the door open just a crack as I make my way back to the other side of the house, rapidly becoming tired myself and eager to join my wife Lizette in our bed.

“She asleep?” my holstaur wife asks as she shifts her pregnant bulk underneath the covers, lifting them up for me so I can snuggle with her.

“Mhm,” I reply, reaching over to give Lizette a lengthy smooch. “I love you.”

“I love you too sweetie,” she whispers, scooting herself over and resting her head on my shoulder.

“So, what are you thankful for this year?” I ask my cowgirl wife after a few moments.

“Hmm, not really sure. Do you want me to say anything specific?”

“Not particularly,” I say.

“Well,” Lizette says, looking up at me with her sparkling green eyes, “I’m thankful I have you.” she giggles, pulling me in for another kiss that I eagerly return.

“You say that every year honey,” I say, hugging her close to me.

“Well I mean it. Every year is better than the last because of how much you make me feel loved. Not only by being here for me, a-and providing for me,” she sniffs, “b-but in other ways, too.” Lizette finishes, gently rubbing her gravid belly. “I can’t believe I’m going to be a mom again. And so close to Christmas, to boot!”

“I know Liz, I know.” I reply, giving my wife another tender kiss. “I feel the same way about you every year too. Just being here, always ready to love me no matter what, to being the mother of my children. Sometimes I still can’t believe we’re together, and that I got the chance to be with you, but I just want you to know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me and our family.” I say, hugging her tightly.

“Uh, sweetie?” Lizette says, her voice muffled against my chest.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Your arm,” my monstergirl wife giggles, pointing to the small amount of milk running down my forearm, a similar streak of ivory white milk leaking from one of her nipples my wife’s immense breasts heavily laden with fresh, nutritious milk for our unborn child.

“Tomorrow then.” I chuckle, pulling my giggling wife in for another kiss. “I love you Lizette.”

“I love you too,” she replies, giving me a kiss of her own. “Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams to you too,” I yawn, snuggling up against Lizette’s back as she adjusts herself, pushing her soft, pliable bottom against my thighs as I drape an arm around her waist, pulling the covers up against my chin as we fall asleep together.