Dawn

"I like this one." She was lying in bed with the tablet scrolling through porn. It was an odd exercise, part of our intimacy counseling. The purpose was to learn what they found arousing and what they didn't. He was shocked.

"Really? It's kind of explicit, isn't it." She was wearing only a T-shirt. He liked the way her breasts stretched the thin cotton. Her nipples were evident. Her hand was hidden beneath the tablet in her lap and from the way the muscles in her forearm periodically flexed and relaxed he imagined she was touching herself.

"It's more than explicit. It's vulgar." he thought her choice of words particular but the vulgarity seemed to be the appeal as just saying the word seemed the quicken the movements of her fingers. "Sex is vulgar. She wants sex."

It was unusual to discover this about his wife. Perhaps there was something to the exercise. "I expected you would like something with a cock. Maybe something with both a man and a woman." She had scrolled down a few more images, paused, and then scrolled back up. It was a woman. A mature woman, you could tell she wasn't a perfect twenty-year-old model with flawless skin, airbrushed to perfection.

"Cocks are good but a cock is a cock. They are, I don't know, functional. A pussy is more sexual I guess." It wasn't just that she had not shown interest in women in the past, she had actually expressed, repeatedly and with certainty, she had no interest in women whatsoever. His wife was not Bi-Curious. "You can tell she is about to get fucked. I think she likes it hard."

The woman was posed on her knees. Not in some sort of casual way that suggested she just needed to pick something off the floor. She was posed on a bed. She wore a short dress that didn't quite cover her ass. Her legs were parted slightly. She wore high heels. The lips of her pussy were revealed, the small curve of flesh that was her clit exposed. Dawn moved her legs a little and He could see now how her fingers moved just within her own vagina, no more than the tips of her fingers inside of her. She moved them in a slight circular motion. "Can you find more of her?"

He showed her the link. It wasn't just a series of the same model, it was a photo-blog. It appeared to be the woman's own page. It was updated frequently as if it was some sort of hobby. "Wow." was all she said. She scrolled through series after series. The woman was anonymous, never a picture that showed her face but there was image after image of her firm legs, round ass, tight belly, large breasts, and her perfectly round, firm breasts. "That one." She paused. The woman was on her back, her head laid back until her face was hidden by the swell of perfectly shaped tits. Her legs were spread and her fingers buried in her glistening swollen pussy. "I wish I could fuck that wet cunt." His cock was swollen and he wanted her. He needed to fuck her.

"You are so lucky to have a dick." She had scrolled back to the woman's pussy and she had slowed her fingers. She was moving deeper and slower. Her voice was quieter. "God, I just want to bend her over and fuck her." He was stroking his own cock now, through his boxer shorts.

"Tell me how you want to fuck her."

She laid the tablet down beside her and he liked that he could now see her whole body. With her right hand she spread her pussy, with her left, she stroked her clit with long slow motions. "Oh, you can tell how she likes it. She is all strong and shit but she wants it. She wants to be pinned down." He really didn't think he'd ever heard her talk this way before. "She needs it so hard. She wants a cock deep in that pussy. It was made for fucking."

"Tell me how you'd do it." This was all new to him as well. "Tell me how you'd fuck her."

"I'd pin her down. I'd hold her arms down. You know she likes that."

He got to his knees beside her. His cock, pressing at his shorts brushed her tit and he nearly came. He did what she suggested, taking her hands out of her pussy. His wife had small writs and his large hand enveloped both of them. He held them over her head and she cooed, arching her back. He pulled her thigh and opened her legs for him. He delicately placed his finger on her clit.

"She doesn't want it soft." She said, as if correcting him. "She's a little bitch; she wants me to fuck it hard."

He pressed his finger into her quickly. Her pussy welcomed him, wet and slick his finger slipped easily into her.

"She needs a fat dick, I want to fuck her with my big fat dick."

One finger became two and she pressed her hips forward. He used a third. She pulled back a little.

"It's so fat but I make her take it."

He pressed his hand into her. He had to press hard and she bit her lip.

"She can barely take it but I don't care. I hold her down and give her my dick. I fuck her with my big fat dick.

He pressed hard, the weight of his upper body pushing his fingers into her.

"Harder." He looked up from her wet hole to her face, her eyes were open and she watched him. He pressed his fingers into her harder, then fucked her, spreading her open. She watched his face.

"Faster. Fuck it." She spoke plainly. "Don't be a little bitch."

For years they had been mired in a routine of missionary position. There were rules, the lights had to be off. She would signal when she was done by lowering her legs, essentially pressing him out of her. He resented being the bitch and he was angry. The emotion converted to endorphins strengthened his arm, emboldened his efforts. His palm slapped against her mound as he worked her hole. Her eyes open and fixated on him only enraging him further. "Like that, slut?"

"Harder bitch." She snarled. "Fuck me."

Enough. He thought. He released her hands pulling her by her arm to her belly. He sprung from her side; dropping his boxers to the floor he pulled her by the ankles until her legs were off the bed. He was a big man. She was a small woman. It was easy to move her. From behind he stuffed his fingers into her cunt.

"Fuck it. Give me your dick."

He pressed the end of his cock to her wet lips. 'Oh fuck, don't tease it. Fuck it, bitch."

He pressed his cock into her and she moaned. He pressed his hand between her shoulders and her face was buried in the comforter. He pressed into her.

"Ow. Not..."

"Don't... fucking... Ow... now." And he took her hair in his hand. It was short but thick and he pulled back, her back arched.

"Ouch. My hair..." his hips slapped against her ass. He was coming already. A hot mess of juice and cum dripped out of her wet cunt. "Don't." she gasped.

"Don't what, slut?" He was sweating, he was grunting with each thrust.

"Don't stop." She gasped, her voice high pitched, a voice he had not heard her use. He pulled her head back and her neck strained as his cock dug deeper in her, the slap of their thighs louder, her cries deeper, his groans more guttural, an animal in heat.

"Fuck me." She squeaked, "Fuck. My. Ouch. Fucking. Ouch. Cunt.

He fucked, she cried, "Fuck." she came, she begged. "Me." He tugged. "Fuck." He thrust. "Me."

Sweating they beat their bodies together. He let loose her hair, her body collapsed and he pressed on, pulling her hips off the bed, her legs flailed behind him, her face buried in the deep soft linens of the bed muffled her cries. He came again and then dropped her. Her body, pulled to the end of the bad fell with a thump to the floor. Her face was red, her mascara smeared. She pressed a hand between her legs. He looked down on her, his blood still boiling. She wouldn't call him a 'little bitch' again.

"Suck it." He reached down and again took her hair in his hand, a giant fistful of hair. She tugged to get free but couldn't.

"Ouch, don't"

"Suck it clean." He pulled her mouth to his groin, lifting her body by her hair. Her eyes squinting with pain, she opened her mouth. He pressed his half hard cock to her lips.

"Don't." she pled. "It's all..." He smeared their cum on her lips, "wet." He pressed it into her mouth. He felt her tongue and he was hard again.

He thrust his hips and she moaned. She opened her mouth wider and took his whole cock.

"Suck it clean, slut." He fucked her mouth. He might come again. He probably could.

"MM MMM." She moaned and he held her head in place giving her his whole cock. He held her in place when he came. She'd never swallowed his cum before and it was time. He held her head, his cock in her mouth. She gagged and worked to get it down. He let her try a moment longer and then released her, coughing and choking in a pile at the foot of the bed.

He watched her as she sat, sobbing on the floor. He lay on the bed watching her, her small hips, the sway of her breasts as she walked naked to the bathroom. He heard water run. He heard the toilet flush. He heard the closet door. He waited prone on the bed, his eyes closed. When he heard her again, her feet padding across the floor, he looked up. She had pulled on one of her nightshirts. He was done with the grandma nightshirts.

"Take that shit off."

"What?"

He stood and went to her. He tugged at the nightshirt and she fought back.

"Stop."

"No."

The shirt tore from the neckline to the hem. He pushed her back onto the bed and she fell, her arms and legs splaying out about her as she did.

"Asshole." She sneered.

"Fuck that. No more of this grandma shit."

"Fuck you." And her sneer took on a devilishness he had never seen from her before.

He reached for her and they wrestled. He pulled and the gown caught on her arm. He pulled harder and she cried out. "Stop." He didn't. He shouldn't do this. He couldn't believe he was doing it but he pulled at her legs. He was hard again.

"Don't," she said, the maniacal grin confusing him. He did anyway.

This time it was more their normal position. It was basically missionary he thought, except that she struggled to fight him off and he had to hold her arms down, pinning her to the bed, to get his cock into her. When he was finish he rolled over. Letting her loose. She stood up, but only to shake loose the remnant of the torn nightgown. When she returned to bed she buried her face in his chest. She wrapped an arm around his belly.

He was motionless for a long time. He listened for her breathing. When she went to sleep he would hear her breath change, long and slow deep breaths. He waited and it didn't come.

"Dawn?" He whispered.

"Yes?" she replied. It was soft and quiet but it wasn't a whisper.

"Are you?" he didn't know how to ask. His anger and subsided and guilt and remorse plagued him. "Was that... okay?"

She was quiet for an eternity. She didn't move away but she didn't respond. He was still till he couldn't take it any longer then moved his hand to her head, gently stroking her hair.

"David, you don't think I'm gross do you."

"God D. No."

She didn't speak again. After some time he relaxed, perhaps they had moved in the right direction. He held his wife a long time. It was only after he heard her breathing change as she fell asleep that he relaxed. They hadn't held each other as they slept in a long time.