Used by my husband #2
He withdrew his fingers and she heard the sound of him reaching for the nightstand. The click of a lid. The scent of coconut scented lube filled the air. He wasn't going for the pussy this morning. He was going for the tightest, most forbidden entrance.
Sheila’s heart hammered. She felt the cold slide of the lubricant being applied to her asshole. Luke’s fingers began to work the opening, stretching the ring of muscle with a firm, steady pressure. It was an invasive, intense sensation, and staying "asleep" was becoming a Herculean task.
"You’re so tight," Luke groaned, his voice filled with a dark satisfaction. "I bet you haven't even thought about this hole being part of the deal. But it is. Every inch of you is mine to fuck."
He positioned the head of his cock against her tight little asshole. He didn't wait for her to relax. Using his weight, he surged forward.
Sheila’s eyes flew open, a muffled scream caught in the back of her throat as he forced his way in. The sensation was overwhelming—a massive, stretching fullness that felt like it was tearing her apart and putting her back together all at once. He was halfway in, his cock buried deep in her ass.
"Stay still," he commanded, his hands pinning her shoulders to the mattress. "Don't move a muscle. Just take your husband's cock like a good little slut."
He stayed still for a moment, letting her body adjust to the invasion.
Sheila lay there, her face buried in the pillow, tears of pure, overwhelming sensation pricking at her eyes.
It was intense, it was dirty, and it was exactly what she had signed up for.
She felt like an object, a vessel for his morning horniness.
Then, he began to move.
He started with slow, agonizingly deep thrusts.
Each time he withdrew, he pulled back until only the head was remaining, before slamming back in to hit her deep.
The friction against her rectal walls was incredible.
Because he was so thick, he was also pressing against the thin wall separating her anus from her pussy, giving her a dual sensation that made her clit throb with a life of its own.
"Yeah, you like that, don't you?" Luke muttered, his pace increasing.
He was no longer trying to be quiet. The bed began to creak rhythmically against the wall.
Thump. Thump. Thump. "You like waking up to your asshole being stretched open by my cock. You're such a horny little slut for me aren’t you?."
He reached around, his hand finding her clit again, grinding his fingers against it. The rubbing was too much. Sheila began to writhe, her "sleep" long forgotten. She arched her back into him, her internal muscles clenching desperately around his shaft.
"That's it, fight it," Luke growled, his voice reaching a fever pitch. "Clench that tight little asshole for me. Take it all."
He began to hammer into her with animalistic ferocity. He wasn't looking at her face; he was looking at where they were joined, watching his dark skin disappear into her pale, stretched asshole. He was a man possessed, driven by the absolute authority she had granted him.
Sheila felt the orgasm building like a freight train.
It wasn't the polite, soft climax of their past.
It was a violent, body shaking explosion.
She let out a loud, high pitched wail as her entire body went rigid.
At that exact moment, Luke let out a guttural shout.
He thrust one last time, burying himself as deep as possible, and Sheila felt the scorching heat of his cum filling her asshole.
He stayed there, pulsing inside her, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The dominance was absolute. He had taken her in the most vulnerable way possible, before she had even had her first cup of coffee.
After a few minutes, he withdrew with a wet, popping sound. Sheila collapsed into the sheets, her body feeling like jelly.
Luke stood up, completely unashamed of his nakedness. He walked over to the closet and started pulling out a crisp white dress shirt for his day at the finance firm.
"That was a good start to the morning," he said, glancing at her over his shoulder. He looked energized, powerful. "There’s a mess on the sheets, Sheila. Clean it up. And make sure breakfast is on the table in twenty minutes. I’m hungry."
He walked into the bathroom, leaving the door open. Sheila lay there, a thick mixture of lube and cum leaking out of her, feeling a sense of profound peace. She was no longer just Luke’s wife, she was his toy to be used whenever.
She rolled out of bed, her legs trembling, and started to strip the sheets. She had a long day of chores ahead of her, and she knew that under the new rules, none of them would be finished without an interruption.
By 10:30 AM, the house was quiet, save for the rhythmic hum of the washing machine and the distant sound of Luke’s voice echoing from his home office.
He was in "finance mode” sharp, clipped tones, discussing market fluctuations and multi million dollar acquisitions.
Usually, during these high stakes calls, Sheila would tiptoe around the hallway, making sure not to disturb the man bringing home the paychecks.
But today, the air in the suburban house felt heavy with a different kind of tension.
Sheila was in the kitchen, bent over the dishwasher, loading the breakfast plates.
She was wearing a short, floral sundress with nothing underneath as a silent invitation she knew would eventually be accepted.
Her pussy and asshole felt swollen, still sensitive from the morning’s anal stretching, and every time she moved, she felt the phantom weight of Luke’s cock.
Suddenly, the office door opened.
Sheila didn't turn around. She kept her back to the hallway, her heart skipping a beat as she heard his heavy footsteps on the hardwood. She felt his presence behind her before he even spoke.
"The London team is on the line," Luke’s voice was low, but she could hear the Bluetooth earpiece hum. He sounded professional, cold, and utterly detached. "I’m going to be on this conference call for the next forty five minutes."
Sheila started to straighten up. "Oh, sorry, I'll be quiet"
"I didn't say you could stop," Luke interrupted, his hand landing firmly on the small of her back, pushing her back down into a bent over position. "Keep loading the dishwasher."
Sheila’s breath hitched. She heard him adjusting his trousers. The sound of a zipper falling was like a starting pistol for her libido. She stayed bent over, her face hovering near the racks of dishes, her ass pushed back toward him.
"Yes, Harold, I’m looking at the Q3 projections now," Luke said into his headset, his voice perfectly steady.
She felt him lift the hem of her sundress. His large, warm hands spread her cheeks wide, exposing her pussy and her still red asshole to the kitchen light. He leaned in, his nose pressing against her skin, taking a deep inhale of her scent.
"The margins are thin, I agree," Luke continued, even as he licked a long, wet stripe from her perineum all the way up to her clit.
Sheila let out a soft whimper, her fingers gripping the edge of the dishwasher rack so hard the plastic bit into her palms.
"Hush," Luke hissed, his hand coming down in a sharp, stinging slap that made her ass jiggle. "If I hear a sound out of you, I'll make sure you can't sit down for a week."
He stepped closer, and Sheila felt the massive, pulsing heat of his cock pressing against her throbbing clit. Without a word of warning, he drove himself inside. He didn't go slow. He used the momentum of his hips to bury himself, the force of the impact clicking the dishwasher door slightly.
"I think we should pivot toward the tech sector," Luke said calmly into the earpiece, his voice betrayed by nothing but a slightly deeper timbre.
He began to fuck her. It was a rhythmic, mechanical motion.
He held her hips like handles, his thumbs digging into her hip bones, steering her as he slammed his cock into her wet, tight pussy.
Sheila was losing her mind. The cognitive dissonance of hearing him discuss interest rates and corporate bonds while his thick member was punishing her insides was the most erotic thing she had ever experienced.
"Sheila, keep working," he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. "You're just a domestic appliance, remember? Keep moving the dishes."
With trembling hands, Sheila reached for a dinner plate. She tried to slide it into the slot, but Luke’s thrusts were so powerful she almost dropped it. She was shaking, her pussy clamping down on him in a desperate rhythm.
"I understand the risk, Harold," Luke told the man on the other end of the line, thousands of miles away. "But the payoff is worth the initial investment."
As he said the word "investment," he lunged deeper than before, hitting her cervix with a dull thud.
Sheila bit her lip so hard she tasted copper, a muffled moan vibrating in her throat.
She felt like a total slut that was being used in the middle of the day, in the middle of a chore, while her husband did his job.
Luke’s pace intensified. He was no longer just "using" her; he was dominating her. He began to grunt softly with the effort, the sound masked by the rustle of papers he was intentionally flipping on the kitchen island.
"Let's move to the final vote," Luke said, his voice straining slightly.
He reached down, his fingers finding her clit and pinching it hard. The sudden spike of pain pleasure sent Sheila over the edge. Her internal muscles went into a frantic, rhythmic pulsing, squeezing his cock so tight he let out a sharp intake of breath.
"Yes... that's the right move," Luke muttered into the headset, though Sheila knew he wasn't talking to Harold anymore.
He began to hammer into her with reckless abandon, his professional facade finally cracking. He was a man taking what was his. He didn't care about the dishes, the kitchen, or the London team. He only cared about the way his cock felt sliding into his wife’s bottomless heat.
"I’m... finishing... the call now," Luke gasped.