Page 35 of Morally Corrupt

It must have been last year on Valentine's Day when I'd surprised her with a pair of baby shoes and told her my desire to expand our family.

She'd smiled and changed the subject. I approached her with the idea of a baby again when I'd asked her if she'd be willing to stop taking her birth control.

She'd once again tried to dodge the discussion by distracting me with her body. I'd been so aroused that I'd forgotten about the topic immediately.

It wasn't until the third try that she'd relented and told me she'd stop taking her birth control. That had been around six months ago, and a nagging feeling told me she was still taking contraceptives.

This is my wife we're talking about. The woman I'd bonded with over children during our relationship. The woman who'd told me she wanted a house full of children.

This woman, however, doesn't seem to find the idea of having a child particularly appealing.

At the time, I merely put it down to her age. She's in her mid-twenties, whereas I am slowly approaching my mid-thirties. It makes sense in a way that our priorities are different. Still, I cannot help but feel a little cheated since we'd established we'd try to have kids after a few years of marriage.

Then the absences from work happened. Those were the ones that played on my mind most often, and I found my insecurities eating at me. Bianca usually works until six or seven each day, or so she's told me. One month ago, I wanted to surprise her with lunch at the foundation and was told she'd left early. That was odd. I'd called her and asked her where she was. Her answer?

"At work, silly!" She'd giggled and told me she missed me and that she would meet me at home.

I was left dumbfounded at the blatant lie, but I still didn't give up hope. I knew there had to be an explanation for it, and I waited for her to open up. That didn't happen. I'd dropped by her work unannounced a couple more times, and the same lie left her lips.

"I'm at work." When she wasn't. What am I supposed to think? My wife is an attractive woman. With her long, black hair and her pale complexion, she looks like a painting come to life. Her doe-like eyes project her sweetness and innocence, and who wouldn't be drawn to that? It had taken me a full conversation with her to be in her thrall. An entire month to fall in love.

Now, seeing the footage of her exiting that hotel with the wet hair? By itself, it might have been innocuous, but together with the other incidents? I'm almost sure my wife is cheating, and the thought nearly crushes me.

My innocent wife.

Or is she? I'd been her first lover. That, I knew, as she'd been sheltered her entire life. Is she welcoming someone else into her bed? Into her heart? Am I not… enough? Just the thought of another man touching my wife nearly sends me into a violent rage. I tend to contain my emotions to myself, but the mental picture of my wife in bed with another man makes me want to smash something.

Suddenly, I remember that night, sometime at the beginning of our relationship, when she'd gingerly suggested I tie her up and take her from behind. I'd been shocked at her request, given her inexperience. My immediate thought had been that she was under the impression she wasn't pleasing me in bed. I'd asked her where she'd gotten the idea from, and she'd told me from porn. I didn't want my wife to think she was anything less than what I wanted or needed. But I also didn't want her to feel forced to embrace different sexual practices for my sake. I'd tried my best to assure her that our lovemaking was perfect the way it was. After all, one didn't fuck one's wife like a whore. I wanted Bianca to feel my love for her every time I touched her. I never wanted her to feel dirty… used.

But what if it wasn't about pleasing me? What if that's what she actually wants… craves? And for so long, I've denied her that. What if she wanted me to be rougher with her? And because I'd ignored her desires for so long, she'd sought it somewhere else?

I'm a mess. All my thoughts are jumbled up, and the moment I get home, I close myself in my study with a bottle of bourbon. Of course, my wife isn't in yet. Paranoia takes hold of me. Is she with her lover? I grip the glass in my hand and quickly empty its contents. I pour another. After a few sips, I hear the front door open and footsteps in the hallway. I pour myself another drink, chug it, and confront my wife.

She's in our bedroom now, wearing only her skirt and her bra, probably just having taken off her shirt.

"Theo." She looks at me and smiles. I cock my head and lean on the doorframe, studying her.

"Theo?" she asks again, her smile trembling a little. I don't answer.

She approaches me and sniffs.

"Did you have anything to drink?" I still don't answer her, looking at her skin for any signs of a lover's possession.

I want to yell at her.Did you cheat on me? I want to ask her so many questions, but the alcohol is already taking over. Without a word, I pull her to me and kiss her roughly on the lips. Her mouth quickly opens up under mine, parrying each and every one of my attacks.

"Oh, Theo…" she moans into my mouth, and suddenly, I need to punish her. I jerk her around and push her with her face to the wall.

"Theo?" Her voice is unsure, and if I weren't so drunk, I might have felt bad for treating her like this. But I need to purge any other man from her. My hand sneaks down her legs, and I slowly lift her skirt until it lays in a bundle over her ass. Bianca gasps and thrusts her body towards me, approving of the gesture. In one movement, I tear her stockings and her underwear, and my fingers are inside her. She's enjoying this, based on her noises and the way she's grinding against my fingers. I can't wait anymore. If she wants rough, she'll get rough. I quickly unbuckle my pants, taking my cock out and guiding it inside her in one swift movement. She gasps low in her throat. With one hand, I grasp her hip in a painful hold while with the other, I sneak up her spine and towards her neck. I catch the hair at her nape and tug forcefully while thrusting mercilessly into her at the same time.

"Fuck, Theo, yes!" Her voice only prompts me to go faster, harder, my hands roughing her up painfully. But she enjoys it. My hand goes between her legs, and the moment I touch her clit, she spasms around my cock.

"Shit, Theo, I'm coming." I pull again on her hair and twist her face around so I can kiss her. I keep thrusting and thrusting, feeling my own orgasm nearing. My mind goes blank when I release myself inside her with a groan.

For a moment, we're both silent, breathing hard. I take my cock out of her, putting myself back in my pants. I take a step back and just look at her, as if seeing her for the first time. She glides down the wall to the floor, a satisfied smile on her face.

"That was," she says and then whistles. I just look at her, seeing a stranger.

"Put yourself together." I finally find my voice, sounding gruff even to my ears. "You look like a whore."

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