My husband fucking owns my cunt.

He rails me every single day without fail. He’s the only man who’s ever stretched my pussy, sucked my clit, and pumped me full of his thick cum. Just thinking about him makes my hole drip down my thighs. He’s older, but he’s the filthiest, sexiest man I’ve ever seen—solid muscle, that low voice, and a thick, curved, heavy cock that I choke on and deep-throat like a dirty little whore every single day. I keep this body tight and fuckable just for him. I dress like a slut and act like one, but only for him and him only. I am his personal cock-sleeve. No other man has ever seen these heavy tits or this full, soft ass.

We’ve been married for over a decade. More than ten years of waking up next to the same man and still getting wet the second he walks into a room. I am completely, hopelessly in love with him. Every time he looks at me with that quiet, filthy hunger I feel it in my stomach. He is the sexiest thing I’ve ever touched. The way his arms flex when he holds me down, the way his cock curves upward and fills me so completely, the way he still makes me shy and desperate at the same time—I live for it.

Today he came home early. I was in the kitchen in nothing but one of his old shirts, the fabric barely covering my ass. The second the door closed I felt that familiar ache start between my legs. He didn’t say a word at first. He just walked up behind me, pressed that thick, hard cock against my lower back, and kissed the side of my neck the way he always does when he’s about to ruin me.

“Missed this,” he murmured, already sliding his hand between my thighs. “Been thinking about using you since this morning.”

I melted against him. He always wants me during the day too—anytime, anywhere. He spun me around, lifted me onto the counter, and yanked the shirt up over my tits. His mouth was on my nipples in seconds, sucking hard while two thick fingers pushed into my already soaked cunt. I moaned and opened my legs wider for him. He knows exactly how to touch me after all these years. He knows how to make me drip and beg without even trying.

When he finally freed that heavy, curved cock I stared at it the way I still do every single time. Thick. Long. The head already glistening. I slid off the counter, dropped to my knees, and took him into my mouth. I choked on it the way he trained me to, letting him fuck my throat deep and slow until spit ran down my chin and onto my tits. He held my hair and watched me with that dark, loving look that still makes my heart race.

“Good girl,” he said quietly. “My dirty little wife.”

He pulled me up, bent me over the kitchen island, and slammed into my cunt in one hard thrust. He rails me every single day without fail, and today was no different. He fucked me deep and rough, the wet slap of his hips against my ass filling the room while my heavy tits dragged across the cold counter. I kept this body tight and fuckable just for him. I dress like a slut and act like one, but only for him.

He pounded me until my pussy was swollen and sore, the way it always gets when he uses it this hard. That’s when I started begging—soft, desperate, completely his.

“Please… wreck my asshole instead. Please, baby. I need you in there.”

He spread my cheeks wide with both hands, spat directly onto my tight hole, and forced that thick, curved cock deep into my guts. I moaned like a bitch the second he bottomed out. He railed my ass so roughly my eyes rolled back, my tits slapped against the counter, and he reached under me to pinch and suck my nipples until they ached. Every brutal thrust pushed the air out of my lungs. I started squirming from how deep he was going.

“Freeze.”

The order came sharp and low, the same way it has for years. I went completely limp, just the way he likes. He used my body like a toy after that, slamming that heavy cock into my ass over and over while I stayed soft and open for him. I could feel every thick inch, every curve, stretching me open. He owned my cunt, he owned my throat, and right then he owned my ass completely—more than ten years into a marriage that only gets filthier and more loving with time.

When he finally came he stayed buried deep, blasting thick ropes of cum straight into my guts. Some of it leaked out around his cock when he slowly pulled free. He flipped me onto my back on the island, straddled my chest, and stroked the last few loads across my heavy tits and face until I was painted and dripping. I lay there shaking, soaked, completely ruined, loving every second of it.

He looked down at me with that filthy half-smile and wiped a smear of cum across my bottom lip with his thumb. I licked it clean without being told, then looked up at him with the same soft, completely devoted eyes I’ve had since the day I first said yes to him.

I fucking love my dirty, sexy husband. I live for getting used by him every single day. After more than a decade I am still his personal cock-sleeve. Still the only woman who gets to take that thick, curved cock every day. Still the one who comes hardest when he calls me his dirty little whore while he’s balls-deep and stretching me open.

His.

Used.

Owned.

And so fucking wet for it.

I love him more than anything. And the filthiest, most honest way I know how to show it is by staying on my knees, legs open, cunt dripping, waiting for my husband to use his slut wife the way only he can.