Page 20 of Dirty Husband

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I chew my bottom lip, the idea exciting me. I fumble with his zipper, and glide it down, then he lifts his hips and helps me push it past his knees. The moment his big cock springs free, I take it in my hand and stroke it. I feel his body tremble under my touch, the way his thighs clench, how he grows harder.

A sense of female empowerment travels through me from top to bottom. Usually he’s in control, but now, he lets me have it. He loves me, and he’s showing it to me. And now, I’m showing it to him.

I stroke him from root to tip. I feel the blood rushing in his cock, the veins expanding as I tease him. Hell, my cunt is drenched wet and about to explode with need. When I drive him inside me, we both moan.

“I love how you touch me,” he says. “Always so eager.”

“Touch me too, Daddy.” I take his hand and position it on my clit, and he plays with it, flicking it.

Soon, I set the pace, rocking back and forth onto his dick. He follows my rhythm, working my clit in tandem to how I move on him. My heart thumps in my chest, warmth spreading through me. I fuck him, working his cock, and it’s doing what I want it to.

Tendrils of pleasure course through me, and I move faster, thrusting him deeper inside, to a point where it hurt me a bit—the tipping point to a wave of climax to wash over me. I fuck him, relentlessly moaning and no longer caring how loud I am.

With his other hand, he reaches for my breast, caressing it over the fabric until my nipples tighten and harden as diamond tips. Too much. I want to make him lose control and come too.

So I increase my rhythm, and sneak my hand down to the area where his cock meets his ass. I’ve read about how men sometimes can go crazy if stimulated there, and even though I’ve never tried, I act on impulse and shove two fingers inside his hole.

He growls, the sound of a caged animal who’s finally loose, and lifts his hips, adding even more sensations to my overworked body. For a few minutes, we continue this erotic dance, with me straddling him, thrusting my fingers in and out of his hole, and him teasing my clit without mercy, but also ramming his cock inside my pussy.

I can’t take it anymore, and let go again, coming one more time, but this time I let go even more, feeling my cream squirt out of me and onto his cock. “I’m coming on your cock, Daddy, oh.”

“Fuck yeah, dirty girl,” he eggs me on, and removes his hand from my chest, then slips a finger in my ass.

Now, he’s fucking me on both holes and so am I, him. We’ve never been so close in our whole lives, so connected to each other. He finger fucks my ass violently, and the throb from my clit has taken over my entire body. “Oh yes, Daddy… you fuck me so good.”

“You do too, little girl. Don’t stop. Let’s come together.”

We’re nearly bouncing off the ground. My mellowing sound slices the air, the darkness, the woods.

He comes after me, releasing his seed inside me, and when I roll off of him to the dirty ground, I’m still quivering. Yes, he told me to use him however I may prefer. But we used each other, and now are both reeling from the most passionate lovemaking we ever shared.

We love each other, and there is no going back anymore.


Two years later…

“Are you ready?”Hunter asks, squeezing my hand gently.

I look at the imposing, two-story home I used to go and babysit Max and Charlie.

Today is their birthday party, and Susan allowed Hunter to invite me. I take a deep breath. This is big.

I’ve seen Susan in passing a few times, when I drove with Hunter to drop off the kids. She was always reserved but not particularly bitter. “Yes.”

Time has been the answer. Time for all of us—my family, my friends, his coworkers— to learn we’re not going anywhere.

We’re engaged, we love each other, and we aren’t letting go of each other. Ever.

He threads his fingers in mine, and when we get to the door, he rings the doorbell.

I appreciate that he’s not barging in giving he lived there once and paid for it. He’s respectful and that’s one of the things I admire about him. He leaves all kinds of naughtiness to our bedroom, which I prefer.

Anthony, Susan’s boyfriend, opens the door.

We all shake hands, the two men exchanging a couple of awkward hugs.

Anthony is a hugger. He’s also godsent, and I’m sure one of the reasons Susan has been more open about me spending more time with the twins the last year.

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