“Oi, come upstairs, I need my cock sucked,” the message from hubby reads. Who can say no to such an invitation?

I cannot. Not under the current circumstances.

So, here I am, on my knees, at his service - took me less than a minute. He greets me right by the door - his trousers and boxers casually on his knees - with a very hard cock in my face. He also has his favourite black cock strap on, which means two things: 1., he wants to go on longer, which being 8 AM, isn’t ideal, so I voice my concern. “You do know, the kids are up, B. will be banging on the door in about five minutes. “You better be quick about it then,” is his curt reply. His other reaction is to grab a fistful of my hair, forcing my head onto him 'til his full length is in my mouth. And that brings us to 2., with the strap on, he is extra hard with stunning, very prominent veins. I always find that fucking irresistible.

My palms solidly planted on his buff thighs, I swallow him as if my life depended on it and keep him down for maddeningly long seconds. I already have a very sore throat from last night, so it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing could possibly make it any worse. His swollen head sits uncomfortably in my neck, but it is good pain. It is all good. I push through the pain; I push through the discomfort. Because everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours is fuelling me to burn at a hundred degrees.

“Good fucking girl,” he growls at me, gripping my throat to feel his hard wood inside it. That always gets my motor running; my pussy contracts instantly flooding my knickers.

It’s hard to talk about just how horny I am and how much I want to please him without sharing the whole current situation between us. But I really don’t want to get into details, because that would fill a whole other story, probably even a book. Let’s just say I am very, very eager to please him, to be his insatiable little slut again, for him to treat me like I need to be treated. Like this. To give me more. More of what I thought we have lost forever.

I am still upset, frustrated, I still hate him, but I’m also ecstatic and want him more than anything. Does that make any sense? Yes, I know, it fucking doesn’t, but that is us. We just don’t make any sense. All those stupid songs about love being a drug, him being toxic yet irresistible... I can’t believe I married into that. I can’t believe I married him. And I can’t believe we are back here, after everything that has happened.

“Did you like that big black cock last night?” he pries, lifting my whole body-weight up by my hair. His soulless wolf eyes devouring my fawn spirit, I realise, there’s no point dwelling on the stupid complicated emotional side of things when I can have this. When I can have that. (What I had last night.)

“I fucking loved it.” I purr through gritted teeth, my face distorting into something I would probably not recognise in the mirror.

“You’re a filthy fucking slut, aren’t you?” He shakes me side to side like a rag doll - once precious, now bedraggled, worthless. I am his prey, his plaything. And that is exactly what I want to be. He grips my jaw, his fingers digging painfully into the soft tissue between my jaw bones as he forces his full length back into my throat. “Yeah, take that hard cock, like the good girl you are.”

I love it when his beast is out. I missed him. The civilised, keeping our distances living arrangements just didn’t work for us. Not with the history we have. Not with the burning desire underneath the polite ways we tried to avoid each other. Not with him wearing those fucking tight black jeans around the house, or those cargo pants doing his garden chores, or that scruffy, old grey t-shirt, or anything really. Damn. Why does he have to be so fit? No matter what he said, what he did, it was only a matter of weeks before I jumped his bones. Now it was almost becoming a pattern.

But oh my god, the lengths I had to go to to get back here this time around. And it wasn’t even intentional. It never is. I was happy to get on with my life, to find this or even something better somewhere else. But he just couldn’t, he cannot let me go. But it’s all good. I’m a simple creature. I just need to be wanted and I will reciprocate ten folds.

I want to tease him, I want to play with him. This is not even about trying to prove myself anymore. I just love his taste, how his cock fills up my mouth. I really can’t get enough of it. I swallow him with my mouth wide open, without any contact between my lips and his cock, then seal my lips tight around his thickness and suck hard as I slide him out. That has always been his favourite move. I repeat it a few more times, eliciting deep guttural moans from his chest, which are met by a depraved, obsessed sneer on my face.

I lock my fist around his shaft and rub him while my tongue prances his balls and the underside of his cock, then deepthroat him a few times, then fool around with my tongue again. He never knows what my next move will be and it’s driving him crazy. His fingers still around my makeshift ponytail, he is watching me toying with him in the wall mirror.

I bought that mirror for him after the night with someone who had ceiling and wall-to-wall mirrors. (I wrote about it in my ‘Chain Leash’ story). It’s a large, rectangular accent mirror with a modern, edgy silver mosaic frame. He has hung it on the wall in a position that it overlooks the bed and the floor in front of it. He loves watching us have sex and I’m all too keen to feed into his sweet kinks.

I swirl my tongue around his head, drool on his length, and give him a very sloppy treat. “Do you like watching me play with your cock?” I tease, the tip of my tongue doodling mindlessly on the top of his thigh.

“Uh-huh. Mmmm. I love it when you go all cock-drunk crazy on me.” He pinches and pulls my nipple for emphasis. Then he rolls it between his fingers. Oh, he ain’t seen cock-drunk crazy yet.

“More!” I demand with a wicked grin, sliding my tongue from his balls to the tip of his cock. Riding the intoxicating waves of pain - he knows not to hold back when I ask him to hurt me. I strangle his cock with my throat. All the involuntary muscles are contracting inside my body in waves as I gag on his cock. The world goes electric and monochrome, my ears get blocked as I float in liquid endorphin bliss.

There’s a dragging, tugging feeling on my chest and I realise he’s attempting to get me out of my bra for better access. But I’m wearing my tight sports bra after some morning workout, so he doesn’t stand a chance trying to roll the cups down. “That’s not gonna happen. Here, let me help you,” I mumble as I clumsily slide the straps off my arms through the sleeves of my tee. He’s very reluctant to let go of my buttons in the process, so I end up with both my t-shirt and bra hanging on my right arm, swinging back and forth as I continue to blow him. We have no time to worry about minor details like that and it’s just makes the whole scene slightly humorous, which is my preferred vibe.

He’s still watching me in the mirror as I involuntarily arch my body, trying to get away from him, away from the pain, but at the same time, my lips begging for more. Contrary to his obsession with them, mirrors have been my arch enemies lately. Three kids does some irreversible damage to one’s body - there were months when I wanted to rip all of them off the walls.

But today, there, on my knees, in the tangerine morning light, with my make up still smudged from last night, with that ‘just been fucked senseless’ glow – I enjoy watching myself, watching us. He grins at my reflection as he lifts me up by my hair again. Seeing ourselves, as if it was a dark and twisted movie, I’m half expecting our distorted, deviant alter egos to come alive on the other side and emerge from the looking glass. Oh, I love her so much more than the frumpy, boring mummy version of myself . If there was a way to step through and trade places, I would, without a second thought.

“Oi, back on my cock,” he wakes me from my daydream with a slap on my cheek, prompting me to giggle loudly. At least my oldest, whose room is next to ours, is not home. Because she would definitely be suspicious of the sounds we make.

My newly freed boobs blissfully bounce back and forth and I rub his cock between them, then on my nipples. When he squeezes them together and slides his throbbing slick cock between them, I know it will not just be a quick morning blowie anymore.

“Fuck, this is hot,” he grunts, pulling on my nipples 'til I hiss and fuck him hard with my perfect handfuls. Yeah, I can’t remember when we did this last time, we’re always just rushing to the next phase, which is a shame as this feels so delicious.

Most morning BJ’s are just that, so not wanting to get disappointed and knowing my place, I go back working my lips on him, ready to swallow obediently and get on with my day, even if slightly frustrated, hoping for a finish-fuck later. I am very pleasantly surprised when he throws me onto the bed. “I need to fuck you,” he utters one of my favourite sentences.

My overflowing wetness welcomes him, it is the best fucking start of the day. He crashes into me with long, hard strokes, working every last bit of him into me. I am absolutely joyously full and content.

Till the kid starts looking for us.

“Fuck, I told you we don’t have much time.” I sigh and punch a hole into the pillow in front of me.

I know he is close, and he has no issues rushing it sometimes. Especially after last night when we all got a little (more like a lot) sore.

“So, you liked that guy last night?” he asks. He knows my answer, we had analysed every bit of it like we always do, he just wants me to talk dirty to push him over.

“Yes, I loved his thick cock,” I purr, but me being me, I always have to find new things and add a little extra, so I continue. “But I just had been messaged by two guys this morning, who want to tag team me. Would you like to watch that?”

“Fuck, yes. Have you seen their cocks?"

“Yes, both nice and thick.”

“Yes, baby, make that happen!”

“Oh, I will. Maybe I even let them cum inside me and you take a sloppy third.”

Oh, that is definitely enough to push him over the edge, even if that will never, ever happen. But one can dream and fantasise.

It will not happen because they want a DP and I don’t do that, not with strangers anyway. And I don’t let any random strangers cum inside me. What kind of mindless, filthy slut you take me for?

I have my regulars for that, thank you very much. And now that we are back on the scene, we will have lots of other kind of fun. And this mirror here will witness most of it. Lucky piece of home furnishing, ain’t it?