Carlos entered Angela from behind roughly,
the way she liked it. She liked the way his weight felt above her,
pinning her to the satin sheets of her marital bed, the way his
rough stubble felt against her shoulder-blades, the way his scent
-- Old Spice and engine grease, grass clippings and sweat --
overpowered her, surrounded her, entered and filled her.
The broad head of his thick cock pressed into
her with a familiar possessiveness, sliding in with a slight upward
angle as he lay atop her. Calloused hands closed around her
forearms, pinning them to the bed above her head, his legs between
hers, holding them apart, his taut abs, slick with sweat, sliding
against her buttocks. He was on top of her, he was inside her, his
essence was all around her. It was in moments like these that she
could truly let go and let a man take her away, take her control
away.
He pinned her as he thrust, a forearm across
her shoulder-blades, her face pushed down into the mattress. She
turned her face aside to breathe, grunting each time his thick
length entered her, pushing back against him the best she could.
Her half-lidded gaze rested on the sight of his fingers on her
forearm, fixating on the grease under his fingernails. Part of the
thrill, for her, was the dirt, the feeling of defilement, of her
refined and civilized body being taken by someone earthy and
primitive. Carlos didn't give a shit about the finer points of
Paradise Hills savoir-faire. He didn't care about the Homeowner's
Association. He didn't care about politics or taxes or any of that.
At least, while they were together, Carlos only cared about fucking
her, hard, savagely, and she could let the rest of her life's
concerns fall away and let herself rut like an animal.
It was at these moments, when her brain
turned off and her body turned on, that she felt truly alive. She
wished she could share them with her husband.
She'd considered cuckoldry, of course.
Letting Henry know about her affair. She was almost certain that
he'd accept it silently, glumly, like he did everything she forced
upon him. She had no real desire to be cruel to the man, though.
She didn't find the prospect of humiliating him exciting, and knew
he wouldn't get off on other men fucking her. She knew that his
acceptance would only lead to more contempt on her part, and things
between them were difficult enough as it was without her growing to
hate him.
An increase in Carlos's tempo drove thoughts
of Henry from her mind, and the head of his cock started to rub her
inside just right. "Like that," she gasped. "Just like that."
He shifted behind her, propping himself up,
his strong hands pressing her shoulders into the bed. Every thrust
of his hips came harder than the one before, driving her face up
against the headboard. She didn't mind. This was the kind of
alpha-male fucking she needed, without self-consciousness, without
meekness, without hesitation. Each powerful thrust seemed to
penetrate her to her very core, sending waves of sublime pleasure
radiating through her body.
She felt his cock tremble and swell inside
her, and moaned louder as she felt him close in on his orgasm. He
thrust into her one last powerful time, the length of his penis
entirely within. She could feel its heat pulsing as he sent spurt
after spurt of hot cum into her depths.
He lay atop her for a moment, breathing
heavily. She allowed herself seconds of timeless bliss before
giving his flank a quick slap.
Carlos rolled to the slide, his softening
cock dragging as it pulled out of her.
She sat up, grabbing a cigarette from the
bedside table.
"You got a second to talk?" he asked.
She picked her watch up from beside her
Virginia Slims. "Make it quick. Light?"
He sat up and grabbed his jeans off of the
floor, taking a bic from his pocket. "It's kinda important."
"Later," she said, leaning close to let him
light her smoke. "I've got an appointment at Francois's, and you
still have the west rosebushes to trim."
He slipped his
the way she liked it. She liked the way his weight felt above her,
pinning her to the satin sheets of her marital bed, the way his
rough stubble felt against her shoulder-blades, the way his scent
-- Old Spice and engine grease, grass clippings and sweat --
overpowered her, surrounded her, entered and filled her.
The broad head of his thick cock pressed into
her with a familiar possessiveness, sliding in with a slight upward
angle as he lay atop her. Calloused hands closed around her
forearms, pinning them to the bed above her head, his legs between
hers, holding them apart, his taut abs, slick with sweat, sliding
against her buttocks. He was on top of her, he was inside her, his
essence was all around her. It was in moments like these that she
could truly let go and let a man take her away, take her control
away.
He pinned her as he thrust, a forearm across
her shoulder-blades, her face pushed down into the mattress. She
turned her face aside to breathe, grunting each time his thick
length entered her, pushing back against him the best she could.
Her half-lidded gaze rested on the sight of his fingers on her
forearm, fixating on the grease under his fingernails. Part of the
thrill, for her, was the dirt, the feeling of defilement, of her
refined and civilized body being taken by someone earthy and
primitive. Carlos didn't give a shit about the finer points of
Paradise Hills savoir-faire. He didn't care about the Homeowner's
Association. He didn't care about politics or taxes or any of that.
At least, while they were together, Carlos only cared about fucking
her, hard, savagely, and she could let the rest of her life's
concerns fall away and let herself rut like an animal.
It was at these moments, when her brain
turned off and her body turned on, that she felt truly alive. She
wished she could share them with her husband.
She'd considered cuckoldry, of course.
Letting Henry know about her affair. She was almost certain that
he'd accept it silently, glumly, like he did everything she forced
upon him. She had no real desire to be cruel to the man, though.
She didn't find the prospect of humiliating him exciting, and knew
he wouldn't get off on other men fucking her. She knew that his
acceptance would only lead to more contempt on her part, and things
between them were difficult enough as it was without her growing to
hate him.
An increase in Carlos's tempo drove thoughts
of Henry from her mind, and the head of his cock started to rub her
inside just right. "Like that," she gasped. "Just like that."
He shifted behind her, propping himself up,
his strong hands pressing her shoulders into the bed. Every thrust
of his hips came harder than the one before, driving her face up
against the headboard. She didn't mind. This was the kind of
alpha-male fucking she needed, without self-consciousness, without
meekness, without hesitation. Each powerful thrust seemed to
penetrate her to her very core, sending waves of sublime pleasure
radiating through her body.
She felt his cock tremble and swell inside
her, and moaned louder as she felt him close in on his orgasm. He
thrust into her one last powerful time, the length of his penis
entirely within. She could feel its heat pulsing as he sent spurt
after spurt of hot cum into her depths.
He lay atop her for a moment, breathing
heavily. She allowed herself seconds of timeless bliss before
giving his flank a quick slap.
Carlos rolled to the slide, his softening
cock dragging as it pulled out of her.
She sat up, grabbing a cigarette from the
bedside table.
"You got a second to talk?" he asked.
She picked her watch up from beside her
Virginia Slims. "Make it quick. Light?"
He sat up and grabbed his jeans off of the
floor, taking a bic from his pocket. "It's kinda important."
"Later," she said, leaning close to let him
light her smoke. "I've got an appointment at Francois's, and you
still have the west rosebushes to trim."
He slipped his
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