I get home from work and I can’t wait to drop into my bed. Another day ... another dollar. But sometimes it’s hard being the bread-winner. The newspaper is lodged in the bushes. Shit, I can’t reach that
, I think.
Opening the front door, I’m greeted by the smell of burnt food. Waffles ... bread ... muffins? Whatever it was, it’s burned to hell and another waste of the groceries I just bought. Walking into the kitchen, I’m greeted by a pile of dishes in the sink. Plates, cups, roasting tins, and the obvious baking pans soaking with burn marks. And there’s my husband sitting at the table, eating a bowl of Lucky Charms.
Sometimes it’s like I married a fucking child. With the stress of coming home to this and being bombarded with instructions and meetings all day today, I’m about to snap.
I stare at my husband John in disbelief. He’s looked up from his bowl and milk has started dribbling down his chin. That’s it, I’ve had it. “You’re a little shit, you know that?!” The words are out of my mouth before my brain registers them.
John stops chewing, full spoon midway to his mouth. He looks at me like he hasn’t heard what I said. “What did you say?” he asks. Apparently the ape didn’t hear me.
I look him dead in the eyes and slowly mouth, enunciating every syllable, “You’re a little shit!”
Then he’s in front of me like lightning. My, I forgot how quick this man is. And now he’s standing in front of me. His six-foot-three solid frame is towering over my five-foot-four body. My breasts are large and heaving as I’m a bit scared of his response and breathing heavily. Scared ... and turned on!
Thanks to my breasts, he has to stay a few more inches away from me. Be he’s still way taller.
I’ve rarely seen him act like this. It must be the stress of being between jobs. My husband is no lazy-bum, but as a seasonal worker of construction and landscaping, he’s been off work for a few weeks now with the terrible weather. But still, if you don’t want to do dishes, don’t make fucking dishes!
I scream this in my head, but not a peep escapes my lips. I work hard too. I pull 10-12 hour days too. I deserve to come home to a clean home too!
He’s leaning in and I can see the anger in his green eyes. Is that anger I see or something else? His muscles are flexing, his shoulders keep lifting up and down. Was that a hint of lust I just saw?
I wonder this and decide to stand my ground. I may be smaller, but I’m not easily intimidated. Besides, we both know we like it rough.
He continues to tower over me. I can feel his breath on my face. The smell of burned food, Lucky Charms, and one-percent milk linger in the air. My brown eyes slowly rise to meet his green ones. He knows he married a feisty kitten, another thing he loves about me.
He’s still glowering at me, so I take a few steps back. Then my ass hits against the wall. Shit, nowhere else to go. He knows I’m cornered and he likes the power that gives him. I like the power it gives him. I’m beginning to get wet. Body, don’t betray me know
I turn to my right, about to make a run for it, but his big hands shoot out to block my escape. His arm is right below my breasts and I’m sure he can feel them lifting up and down as my breathing quickens. I try to quickly turn to the other side, but he’s so close that his body and my breasts have caused me to get lodged between him and the wall. I’m literally stuck. Stupid big breasts!
Then for a quick moment he steps back, hands still on either side of me. I stare into his eyes. Yes, that was definitely lust I saw earlier?!
No, this brute of a man cannot be being turned on by my struggles. My eyes begin to trail down, half in an act of submission; half to confirm that yes, there is a massive bulge growing in John’s shorts. This man wants me right now, but I’ll make him work for it.
“Jonathan Riley Davis, don’t you dare ...!” I begin to say, but he’s already got his hands on the top of my work dress, right at the collar. In seconds, the dress is ripped in half, a straight line down the front. My black lace bra and thong are now exposed. I didn’t plan on him seeing my undergarment outfit, but now I’m glad I opted for the matching set.
I’m sure he can smell how wet he’s made me. To confirm, he moves his hand from the side of my body and moves the fabric covering my pussy. He inserts two fingers, permission not required nor desired.
“You have no right,” I begin to say. But he cuts me off.
“I have no right?! I have every right in the world, sweetheart. When we exchanged wedding vows, you gave me the right to do with you as I please, whenever I please. And right now I plan on exercising my right.” He removes his fingers from my pussy and holds them up for me to see. “Just as I suspected; you’re as wet as an ocean.” Then he puts the two wet fingers into his mouth. His eyes close as he tastes my heavenly juices, sucking the two digits.
John’s eyes open half way. He looks me up and down, then steps close to me so he’s pressing me against the wall again. My face turns to the side so he doesn’t smash my nose into his chest. With my neck exposed, John lowers his head to the curve where my neck meets my shoulder. He starts to nibble there, knowing that is one of my weak spots. This man knows me so well.
“I give in John. You’re completely right. Please take me now!” I whisper to him. I know I want this too, I just didn’t want him to think I was giving in too easily. But I love my husband and I want him inside of me now. Burnt food or not.
With his body lowered to get access to my neck, his hands snake under my bottom and slowly lift me up the wall. My legs have spread instinctively, and John steps in between them. I can feel his bulge, feel his need, feel his right.
While still holding me up, he uses one hand to release his monster cock from its prison. I don’t have to see that his eight inch cock, three inches around, is aimed right for me. Instead, I feel as he begins to push in, taking exactly what belongs to him.
He pauses and looks at me. He says, “If you want me to stop, just say the word my queen.”
My legs wrap around his waist, a position they are all too familiar with. They pull him in and John steps further into our embrace. “Jonathan Riley Davis, you had better fuck me so hard ... I don’t even know how to finish that sentence. Get on with it, mister!”
His cock is stretching me to my limits. After two and a half years of marriage, my body still has to adjust to his size every time. And it’s not like we don’t screw. In fact, we normally go at it about four or five times a week. My body just seems to bounce back to its original tightness.
My legs have wrapped around him, pulling him even tighter. He’s fully inside me now and I can feel his cock jumping at its familiar cave of warmth and love.
John stops moving for a minute so I can adjust to this welcome, yet slightly intrusive, member inside of me. While immobile, he continues nibbling at my neck. After a few seconds, his nibbles turn to bites. I guess someone has been watching my Twilight movies.
Nevertheless, it feels great.
He’s now resumed moving inside of me. Actually, that’s an understatement. I swear he is about to rip out the piece of the wall he is holding on to. He’s got me pressed against the wall, and holding on just above my head.
Our bodies are sweaty as we pant and moan at the impending pleasure. He moves his head up to nibble on my ear. He whispers, “If I’m a little shit, then you must be my little cunt!” Then he really puts the pounding on me. I can hear the picture frames rattling on the other side of the wall. John is putting all of his energy into this wall-banging. Must be all the pent-up frustration of not working for a few weeks.
That’s ok; I’m a trooper and if this is how I can help out my man then I will shut my mouth and bear it. Plus, it’s not like he’s hurting me. I love the sensation. I like it rough as our regular sessions are usually much more tamed. Change is great!
He slows down slightly, and then he really starts to pound me into the wall. I can see he’s putting some muscle into his thrusts. I feel his knees bend slightly on the pushes. Although it’s fewer strokes, I can tell it’s taking a lot out of him. He’s groaning my name, Nikki, on every push. I feel every sensation, every vein on his cock, every muscle in his back. This hunk of man is all mine, for as long as I live. Although I may die from his pounding, it would be well worth it.
He whispers in my ear, “Nikki, I’m cuming!” Then he clamps down on my neck. I let out a strangled cry from deep within as I release with him. He stills with me pinned against the wall. I can feel his cock pulsing inside of me, shooting his precious man-juice all over my pussy walls, into my cervix. Who knows, maybe we’ll conceive tonight. I hang onto him, my beautiful gift from God. My hands never leave around his neck. My legs still attached around his waist. His cock is pulsing and my pussy is gripping him, milking every last drop out of him.
His legs finally give out and we crumple into a heap on the floor. Luckily it’s carpeted; a luxurious deep burgundy surrounds us. I’m still on top of him, but now the rest of my dress has fallen off of me, exposing my high ass. Did we close the blinds? Oh, what the neighbours must have seen!
His cock is still inside of me, slowly shrinking to its original seven inches; if you call that shrinking. My pussy juices are beginning to leak onto him and the carpet below us.
He lifts me up to remove his cock. Our juices have mingled together in a sweet concoction. I instantly feel empty. He moves his cock to the space between our legs, and puts me back on top of him to rest. I can hear the thump, thump
of his heart beating. I realize mine is beating to the same rhythm. How I love this man!
A few minutes later, in my drowsy state, I remark, “You’re still a little shit, you know that?” I can feel the smile on his lips as he playfully slaps my ass. Then he moves my hand to his growing cock and I know he’s ready for round two. The things I do for the man I love...
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