Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
This is why I shouldn’t touch my wife. Why I abstained for fucking years from claiming her. Not only is it a sure recipe for her mental decline, but she messes up my control, brings down my walls, and turns me into this sporadic entity of unhinged impulsiveness.
I don’t stop when she screams into the pillow or when her body shakes and she milks my cock.
I don’t stop when she shivers and releases small moans.
I certainly don’t stop when she lies there completely spent.
If anything, I go harder and faster. My balls tighten, but I don’t let myself come.
Not yet.
Not now when this could be the last time I fuck her.
I blame my lack of sleep for my unleashed sickness.
“Oh God, Eli.” She tries and fails to look back due to my grip on the belt. “I’m so sensitive…”
“You shouldn’t have provoked me, then, shouldn’t have flaunted yourself in barely-there clothes and offered what’s mine to the public. Now you’ll take my cock as punishment and thank me for it like a good wife.” I slap her arse.
She groans.
“Let me…let me look at you.”
“No.”
“Please…I want to see you.” The desperate lust in her voice almost demolishes the very last of my resolve.
I’d give anything to thrust my tongue in her mouth as hard as I’m thrusting my cock, to own her in irrevocable ways that can’t be undone.
I pull out to the tip and almost flip her onto her back.
Almost.
The image of her frigid eyes and the unattainable void in her expression flash before me and I slam back in her again, tightening the belt so she stops talking.
Then I fuck her like a madman.
I fuck her so raw, she slides back and forth and the headboard hits the wall with loud bangs.
My fingers find her clit and she squirms, fighting the unavoidable, but I tease and circle and press her pleasure button until she trembles around me. Her muffled moans fill the air as my abs tighten, my balls grow heavy, and I come inside her inviting cunt in waves.
The release is even stronger than last night. This is why I’ve kept my distance. I knew whetting my appetite once wouldn’t be enough and that I’d need to do it again and again before I’d ever be satisfied.
Even now, as I watch a streak of my cum sliding down her thigh, I want to restart the ownership process all over again.
As she slumps forward, I release the belt, letting her head rest on the pillow.
I pull out mid-orgasm and decorate her red arse with my cum. She hisses at the contact against her sensitive skin and I part her cheeks, massaging it into the crack and pressing it into her virgin hole.
“We need to prep you so you can take my cock in this tight little hole, Mrs. King.”
“So you can keep fucking me from behind?” Her head is turned sideways, but she’s not looking at me, her lips set in a line. Her face is flushed and dripping with both desire and defiance.
I can smell one of her tantrums from a mile away, which is a good sign, all things considered, but I still shouldn’t feed her drama-prone existence.
With one last slap, I release her. “Precisely.”
I walk to her bathroom and wet a towel with warm water, quickly wipe my cock clean, and tuck myself back in before I grab another towel and go back.
My wife is still in the same position, but her legs are in the air, crossed at the ankles as she stares at the bathroom door.
Her expression is softer now, and some mascara is running down from her eyes, because she cries during sex, apparently.
And she couldn’t look any more beautiful.
“Why do you only touch me from behind?” she asks in a soft voice.
I ignore her and gently wipe my cum from her pussy and then her arse. I do it slowly, reluctant to erase the sign of my ownership from her skin.
“Do you not want to see my face?” Her words crack at the end.
“It’s not that.” I run my fingers over my angry red handprint on her porcelain skin.
“Then what is it?” she insists. “Why can’t we do any positions that involve looking at each other?”
“We’re not lovers. This is only fucking, so I don’t see why we should engage in any form of intimacy.”
She swallows, her face reddens, and I can feel her anger radiating and growing to exponential heights.
But then she flashes me her most fake smile. One that seems only designed for me. She has no problem being like absolute sunshine to everyone else, but God forbid she smile at me.
Though she did tonight, countless times, before I smothered it.
Again.
“You’re right. I’ll take this as an apprenticeship to learn how to please my future lovers.”
My jaw clenches. “You’ll have no future lovers.”