I knew what she was doing.

It was working.

Though I didn’t realize it at the time, my first clue was when I left for work that morning. One look at the gas gauge told me I’d have to stop on the way home, even though my wife had promised me she’d take care of it when she was out the evening before.

The next was when I sat down to eat lunch at work, and the sandwich she’d made me had one tiny dollop of mayo in one corner. Nothing quite like a dry sandwich to add an extra kick to a frustrating day at work.

I half wonder if my boss wasn’t in on her scheme.

All I wanted to do was go home and unwind, when I finally got off work. That’s when I remembered I had to stop and get gas. Of course, somebody was at every pump when I got there. As soon as one opened up, I pulled in, got out of the car, and only then noticed the sign that said the credit card reader on that pump was out of order. Not willing to risk another wait in line, I traipsed into the store to pay.

Maybe the whole universe was in on her scheme.

My teeth clenched as I pulled up to the house to see my wife had parked on my side of the driveway. It was a simple system. I arrived home from one direction, and she from the other. When we kept to our sides, neither of us had to make a sharp turn into the drive.

Let me correct that. She was sort of on my side of the driveway. I threaded the SUV into the sliver of pavement she’d left me, and shut the door just shy of what could be properly classified as a slam. I took a deep breath, and headed inside.

My right eye literally started twitching when every light in the house appeared to be on.

I hadn’t even managed to close the door when she called out from the back of the house, “Honey, the garbage needs to go out to the curb.”

I stood in the half-open door, squeezing the doorknob, and answered, “Okay.”

She let me turn around in preparation to go back outside before she yelled, “Don’t forget to take the bag from the kitchen out.”

I clenched my fists and my teeth. Some of the frustration crept into my voice when I once again responded, “Okay.”

Trying not to stomp, I headed through the house - turning off extraneous lights along the way. I tied up the trash from the kitchen, took it out to the can, and then took the can to the curb. It was straight back to the kitchen as soon as I was inside, because I badly needed a beer.

“Honey, come here,” she called from the bedroom before I could make it.

“Son of a...” I muttered under my breath as I spun on my heel.

It all clicked into place the moment I stepped across the threshold into the bedroom. She was standing there in a button-down shirt and a frilly miniskirt I knew quite well. The shirt had a gap between two of the buttons, from trying to contain her breasts. Nothing else was containing them, because her nipples were poking at the cloth. The skirt was short enough that the slightest breeze would reveal her panties. Her long, dark brown hair was down, even though she almost always put it up in a ponytail when she got home from work.

Every so often, she would have a craving for rough sex. I played along, but I never could completely commit, no matter how hard I tried. I winced every time I pulled her hair, smacked her ass, or she croaked around my cock. My voice rang hollow when I called her names. Even though I knew she wanted it, I just couldn’t overcome my protective instincts. The last time, while we were cuddling after, she’d suggested that she would have to try to catch me in a bad mood, and be irritating, so I would have some incentive to rough her up.

I thought she was kidding. Obviously, she wasn’t.

That outfit was as good as a billboard saying fuck me like an animal. Despite the cloud hovering over my mood, the sight of her had my pants tightening almost immediately.

“Bad day?” she asked - her expression a sarcastic pout.

“Shut up,” I growled as I walked toward her.

She put one hand on her hip, gave me an evil smile, and said, “Make me.”

That shirt almost always lost a button or two when I tore it open. She’d cut every one of them loose and sewed them back on just well enough to keep her tits from bursting out of the shirt on their own. That time, buttons clattered everywhere when I jammed my fingers into that gap over her tits and yanked.

She sucked in a surprised gasp at the ferocity, and then yelped when I shoved her down on the bed. The skirt - what little there was of it - was only held up by elastic. A quick yank pulled it down. She’d chosen a black, lacy thong to wear under it.

By that point, my pants were uncomfortably tight. I tossed her skirt to the side, and heard the clatter of things falling off her vanity when it landed there. Then I went to work on the fastenings of my pants.

“Hey, be careful,” she said as she sat up. When no apology was forthcoming, she fixed me with a sultry stare. Her lips were parted, and she was breathing heavily, making her breasts rise and fall. About the time I unzipped my fly, she asked, “Weren’t you going to shut me up?”

I grabbed a fistful of her hair and tilted her head back, until she was looking up at me.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” she asked. “Maybe I’ll adopt a kitten next time.”

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got nothing against cats. I like them. I just prefer them when they’re living with someone else and making their whole house smell like cat ass a couple of times a day. We’d agreed on that, but the evil look in her eye made me wonder if she wasn’t seriously considering it.

She let out a high-pitched yelp when I yanked her hair toward me, forcing her to scramble off the bed, and then sink to her knees on the floor in front of me. I shoved my pants down with the other hand, freeing my aching cock. I slapped it against her cheek, and then pushed the tip against her lips. When she didn’t part them immediately, I tightened my grip on her hair. She whimpered, and her eyes misted up, but her mouth opened.

The choking sound she made when I fed her my dick was enough to trigger my protective instincts again. I eased up, though I did keep hold of her hair, using it as a handle as her lips slid up and down my shaft.

The first time she sucked my dick had blown my mind. Even after four years of dating, and five years of marriage, it still wasn’t routine to me. No woman had ever taken me as deeply as she could, or sucked so hard. If anything, she was outdoing herself, croaking around my cock as it slipped into her throat at a steadily quickening pace.

To be perfectly honest, I all but forgot about her little game with my cock in her mouth. It felt too good, and she looked too amazing. I knew it was coming when she hesitated for a moment at the back of one suck. It was no less incredible to watch her take me all the way down to the root, though.

My body chose to tense up just at the moment when she was trying to pull back. Her lips unsealed from around me, and she loudly gagged. I instantly let go of her hair as she pulled away. Thick tendrils of spit stretched between my dick and her lips. More drooled out onto her chin when she coughed. Tears were trickling down her cheeks, and her nose dribbled.

“Sorry, baby,” I said as I watched her swallow and cough.

She looked up at me, shook her head, and sniffled. “Don’t stop.” Another sniffle interrupted her, and then she added. “I’m so wet. Treat me like a cheap fucking whore.”

With that, she leaned in and nuzzled her cheek up against my cock. I got the hint, took my spit-slathered cock in hand, and wiped it on her face. For the first time, some of the discomfort I always felt when doing something humiliating to her evaporated. Her eyes lit up and she shivered as I left spit slime trails all over her face. My cock throbbed in my hand.

“You love this cock, don’t you?” I asked. I sounded a lot more confident and cocky than usual.

She answered, “I love it.” Then she kissed the tip.

“You want it, don’t you?” I asked. I was fighting off moans because she was continually planting soft kisses up and down my dick.

I paused for a moment, trying to build up the nerve to try something that I knew she loved. For some reason, the memory of pulling up to the house and seeing where she was parked flashed through my head. With it came a shadow of the irritation I had felt in that moment. It galvanized me.

She whimpered when I pinched one of her nipples. I twisted it and let the line rip. “You want me to fuck that cunt don’t you?”

Still kissing my cock, she answered, “Yes. I want your big cock in my dirty little cunt. It’s so wet.”

I saw her hand slip between her legs, and let go of her nipple to grab her arm. I yanked her hand away from her pussy and said, “That’s not yours to play with.”

“Please. I’m aching,” she pleaded. “Fuck me. Use me. Please.”

“Nope. Put it back in that little whore mouth.”

She looked up at me with the most pitiful pouting expression, but she took my cock in hand, and then into her mouth. I didn’t even let her complete the first suck before I pulled her hand away. I put my hands on either side of her head, curled my fingers around the back, and tugged. She croaked and pulled back when I hit the back of her tongue. I kept on just enough pressure that she had to resist to get my cock out of her throat.

“That’s right, nice and deep,” I told her as I thrust back into her mouth.

I fucked her face, listening to the abrupt gurgles, and feeling her throat contract from trying to suppress her gag reflex. She reached up, dug her fingers into my buttocks and pulled in time with my thrusts, demonstrating how much she wanted it. Somewhere between that and her orchestrated campaign of irritation, I was enjoying it - a little too much.

My balls slapped hard against her chin, and my cock slipped deeper than it ever had before. She opened her mouth wide, and her hands moved quickly to the front of my hips, pushing me away with desperate strength. Air exploded from her lungs in a loud gack sound the moment my cock slipped out of her throat. Thick spittle sprayed all over me as she sat back hard to cough, gag, and drool.

For just a moment, I selfishly admired my handiwork. Long strands of spit hung from her chin, and there were globs of it on her gorgeous breasts. It was dripping from my balls, and hanging in sticky strands from the shaft. Though she only had light eye makeup and mascara on, her watering eyes were making it run, creating dark rivers curling around her cheeks.

Then she made the most disturbing sound that was a combination of a cough and a burp. I instantly reached out to caress her cheek out of concern, but she stiffened, and stared up at me in alarm. Her eyes were wide with fear for a fraction of a second, until she realized I wasn’t about to jam my cock back in her throat again. She sniffed hard, and made a face when the mucus hit her throat.

I was right on the verge of grabbing her some tissue when she said, “It’s what I deserve. I’m a filthy slut.” Then she sniffled to keep her nose from dribbling. “I want you to use me.”

“Baby...” I began.

Her voice took on a hard, harsh edge. “Just do it. Throw me on the fucking bed and take what you fucking want. Come on. What are you waiting for? You know it’s what I am. I’m a whore. Make me your whore.”

I tried to slip back into character, but seeing the evidence of how I’d already abused her took the steel out of my voice. “Get up.”

She rolled her eyes at me and gave me her most annoying, sarcastic, “Like, what?”

I growled, grabbed a handful of hair, and pulled. “Get the fuck up.”

She yelped, scrambling to her feet. Before she could get her balance, I shoved her hard onto the bed, making her cry out again. I stood over her, trying to look intimidating as I dramatically pulled off my shirt. As I tossed it away, I saw her legs drifting apart. There was no missing the darker spot on the crotch of her black panties. She had to be absolutely soaked.

Kicking my shoes off proved to be a problem. My pants pushed down to my thighs had let the legs bunch up over my shoes. I know I had to look ridiculous, but she kept a look of fearful anticipation on her face while I struggled. Eventually, I freed my feet so I could shove my pants and underwear down. That left me with the problem of my socks.

In a flash of inspiration, I climbed into the bed. I moved over top of her, straddling her body, and took a moment to lift each foot to slip my socks off, while staring down at her. Then, I rose up onto my knees next to her with my erection bobbing.

I grabbed her breast, and squeezed hard, making her whimper. “Want me to fuck you hard and make these tits bounce?”

She answered, “Yes. Take me.”

I let go of her tit and reached between her legs.

“You want me to fuck this whore cunt?” I asked while running a finger over the crotch of her panties. They certainly were as damp as they looked.

“Yes. It’s all I’m good for. Make me your cum dumpster.”

I shoved my fingers under the crotch of her panties to find they were not only damp, but also slippery. Then, I yanked the cloth away from her pussy. “Is that cunt wet?”

“So wet.”

Her back arched - lifting those big, beautiful breasts toward the ceiling - when I shoved two fingers inside of her. She was literally dripping, and I felt a drop slowly creeping down to pool on my knuckle. I curled my fingers to her g-spot, and squeezed, pressing the heel of my hand tight against her clit.

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want you to fuck my cunt,” she answered breathlessly.

Her intimate muscles squeezed my fingers. I wanted to lick her pussy until she screamed herself hoarse, but that wasn’t part of the game she was playing. My role was to take what I wanted. Knowing how turned on she was, I couldn’t wait any longer. The sound my fingers made as they slipped out of her tight embrace provided another testament to just how wet and ready she was.

I slipped out of the bed, hooked my fingers under her thong and ripped it down. She winced as the tightly stretched panties scraped down her legs, and finally ended up on the floor. Her ankles then provided handles to drag her closer to the edge of the mattress.

“Turn over,” I demanded while digging my fingers into the back of her knee and forcing it over the other.