Page 48 of My Wife

So when I take off my jeans? I don’t do it because he told me to. I do it because Iwantto.

He sighs, the sound of relief so ragged, yet so beautiful. He strokes his cock as he advances on me once more.

With the exception of his dick being out, he’s fully clothed.

“Did you miss me, Cyn?”

I don’t lie. Not to Clay, at least. He’s the only one who loved me no matter my truth. Who wouldnevercheat on me?—

“Yes!”

He presses the bloody blade against my naked side. It’s sticky and it’s cold, and I canshiveras he twists it enough to cut through the thin band on my thong.

“Then prove it.”

The moment I let him stick his dick in my mouth, I knew I’d end up beneath him. But looks like I underestimated him because, as soon as he tosses the knife to the grass—thrown because, fuck it, he knows I’m not about to grab it and use it onhim again—he opens up his folded fist and shows me what he pulled out of his pocket.

A condom—and a small travel-sized bottle of lubricant.

“On your knees. Until you tell me you’re my wife again, you’re my whore. So get on your knees where you belong.”

I swallow roughly. A combination of nerves and undeniable arousal makes my throat feel thick. “You’re not gonna do what Ithinkyou’re gonna do, are you?”

Clay’s tongue darts out, dabbing his bottom lip. He lifts an eyebrow. “You mean take you in the dirt as I fuck that tight asshole of yours? That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.” He tucks the bottle under his arm, freeing his hands so that he can pull on the condom. “Usually we have more time to prep. You’re my wife. There should never be anything between us. But… Ineedthis. I needyou. So if it’s take the same pussy you give to Tommy whenever he wants or fuck the ass that’s only ever been mine? A condom will do tonight.”

Once he’s covered, he opens the bottle of lube. “I’d tell you to relax, but I think we both know that’s not likely. I’ll make sure to use enough, though. Trust me, Cyn. I’ll show you exactly why you missed me. Now get on your knees or else you can come here and ride me instead. I don’t care how I take you so long as I get totakeyou.”

Clay’s right. When we were adventurous and newly married, I’d let him have anal whenever he wanted. But I would prep for it if I could tell he was in the mood, and I’d known it was coming so I’d be able to relax in time to make the experience pleasurable for both of us.

I prefer him to fuck my pussy, of course. It’s more pleasure, less pain, because no matter how much lube he uses, the pressure is different. The sensation is different. I still liked it when he did it because it wasClay, but once I got with Tommy, I wasn’t into it.

So tell me why, as I drop to my knees then fall over onto all fours, am I irrationally looking forward to him filling my ass with his cock?

Maybe it’s because I recognize that look in Clay’s eyes. Even before he obviously lost his mind, I could tell when he wouldn’t be budged from something. All that talk before about whether or not I gave Tommy all of me… he knows I didn’t and now, if only to prove to himself that he has some kind of claim after all these years, he wants to do this.

And he will. He’ll stop short of forcing me to because of the damage he could inflict, but we both know how I’ve always been putty in his hands. If he wanted, all he’d have to do is give me head or fuck my pussy first, then my ass would be his.

But as he crouches down, slathering my backside with enough lube to have me shivering from the unexpected chill against my overheated skin, I can tell that desperation has won out. He needs to do this, and he needs to do this now.

SIXTEEN

TOMMY, NO

Iguess I should be grateful that he tests the puckered skin with his thumb first. It burns as he forces the digit past the tight, inner rim of skin, but after he prods and stretches and adds just a touch more lube, he seems satisfied.

I’m keening beneath him as he mounts me.

“Relax, Cyn,” he murmurs, replacing his thumb with the head of his cock. “It’ll feel so much better if you relax.”

“I have a killer fucking my ass,” I snap. “You relax.”

He laughs. The insane fuckerlaughs.“No,” he says, pushing the head inside of me, pausing when I tighten up as the intrusive sensation. “You have your husband fucking your ass. Remember that, baby. I’m your husband and it’s not your ass. It’s mine.”

Another inch. I take a shallow breath, breathing through the discomfort. It won’t last. It never did. When Clay first worked his dick inside of me like this, I could never escape the feeling like I was going to burst. He would take his time, making it easy for me, and eventually, the uncomfortable fullness fading to something closer to pleasure.

And if I needed a little help relaxing? Clay would reach around me, find my clit, and rub it until I was so distracted bythe sense of coming, I barely noticed that he was rocking into my ass, fucking me with short, shallow thrusts.

They don’t have to be full ones. Clay used to tell me my ass was so tight, only a few pumps was enough to have him shooting his load inside of me. That’s why I put up with it. He wouldn’t last long, and my grateful husband would spend the next hour eating my ass, eating my pass, giving me as many orgasms I wanted as a thank you for letting him have me like that.

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