Mary Moore - Whore wife

"I'd really rather get back to Livermore," she said. "I've a husband to go home to. Until I'm financially on my own, that," she added.

"I would say you an right now," said. Jim, glancing at the money, frowning. "But have it your way. Can I put you on the train?"

"The bus," said Linda. "I've got a return ticket. No sense in wasting it."

"The train might have a few more respectable customers. Everyone that rides a bus is poor."

"I'm not hooking any more," said Linda sharply, using the word distastefully. She nabbed a soft hand all over her satiated body, and eyed the three green bills on the table.

It was the last time she ever wanted to hear that word.

"I don't know where you've been going so late," Tim growled as she slipped into bed early the next morning at two o'clock, "but you're turning into a Goddamn slut as far as I'm concerned."

"You shut up. You have no room to talk," Linda screamed and slugged him across his shoulder. And she turned over with a flounce and cried. She was afraid he would hit her back.

The return trip had been refreshing since there was little traffic on the highway. There were few people on the bus. She chatted on and off with the bus driver and dozed. The driver, large and quick-witted, came on to her. She just smiled and shook her head.

"I've a mind to rape you," Tim was saying. She stopped weeping. She snapped back to the present.

You wouldn't dare, she thought.

He grabbed her just then, pinned her shoulders to the pillow and fell across her body, pinning her. She screamed. He clapped a hand over her mouth.

"No wife of mine is going to do this to me. People will talk. I'm not going to be humiliated." He dug the finger beneath the elastic of her shortie pajamas. He tugged on her pussy hair till it hurt.

"Ow!" she screamed. "Don't do that." She tried to reach up and brush the tears away, but she couldn't budge under his weight.

"Fist, you listen to me," she said. "So long as you live under this roof, you have a curfew. Understand?" He looked at her with a piercing glance. "I don't know what I did to deserve this," he continued, "but, kiddo, you sure am changing. You're ruining everything, everything we had together."

"Let me go. Let me go, Tim. Let me go!" She began screaming loudly. "We had nothing together. NOTHING! You can't even get up the energy to screw me more than once a week! And you want me to chain myself to this bed? No, no, no, a thousand times noooooo!"

He slapped her hard across her face. She cried out in pain, and then wept. Still he held her pinned tightly to the mattress. He groped to take his undershorts off with one hand. "I'll show you who can fuck more than once a week. If that's what you want, that's what you'll get. I didn't know you liked it so damn much. And now I wish we had those Goddamn mirrors to watch the blood drip out of your cunt! Or will it be stale semen?"

Linda's mouth fell open. She'd never heard such foul-mouthed language from her husband. She was speechless. She closed her mouth and watched him, watched what he would do, as if he were in a silent film. She knew she was powerless.

He didn't bother to kick his shorts off. They lay clinging to one calf. Then he ripped her pajamas down. Her pussy was exposed to whatever he was going to force on her. It was ironic that only a few nights ago he had refused to fuck her, and she'd been all hot for him.

"Don't hurt me," she pleaded. "Just don't hurt me!"

His full weight fell on her again. She started to struggle then stopped. He was jamming his half-erect cock into her. He couldn't get it in at first, so he kept ramming it against her pussy till his cock was rock-hard and her groin ached. Then he plunged into her.

It hurt less if she didn't struggle. So she gave in. She spread her thighs wide, hoping she could relax to the point where some erotic, arousing fantasy would cross her mind. At this point, she was frigid. The large cock hurt inside her tight pussy. She adjusted her hips until she was fairly comfortable.

"Tim!" she cried. She clutched his shoulders and peered into his face. But he wouldn't look at her. He was groaning with pleasure. To him she was faceless. It could have been any woman.

"Enjoy it, whore," he kept saying. He dipped his tongue down to her tit, bit the nipples hard, bit her breasts all over. Suddenly he noticed her neck. The love bite Jim had given her earlier was still there. "What's this?" he asked.

She said nothing. She just gritted her teeth and stared cold and hard at him. It was his fault. It was all his fault. He had started it. It had become a chain of events, a chain reaction whose initial impetus he had provided through neglect.

"Say 'fuck me'," he commanded. "Tell me to fuck you! Tell me how much you desire me now, bitch. Say it! Say it! SAY IT!" His face was red and puffy.

The breeze swirled the curtain. "Can't you close the window so the neighbors don't hear?" she mumbled.

"Can't you come home nights so the neighbors don't SEE?" he screamed back.

He grabbed a handful of her big hair and held it light. He continued to plow slowly in and out of her steaming hole. The stimulation, even if she didn't want it, was relaxing her. Her cunt began throbbing. Her eyes closed. Her pussy twitched with every tiny movement of his giant cock deep inside her.

His elbows were on either side of her arms. She had a little more freedom of movement, though still no room to escape. She was resigned to pleasing her husband, hopefully for the last time.

"If you'd wanted me more, more often, every night, even every other night, this never would have happened," she cried, the tears welling out of the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks. "Believe me!"

"Nonsense," he answered. "You met someone, didn't you? Only, I can't for the life of me decide when. You obviously knew him before the play."

Linda didn't answer. It would be too hard to explain. She pulled her head to loosen his hold on her hair. He let an inch of the blond stuff pull through his fingers.

He reached around her ass cheeks and began pinching them. Hard. It was painful and arousing.

"C'mon, you blond bitch! I want you to beg to be fucked now! Ask me. Plead for it. Don't just lie there and expect it."

"Do fuck me. Fuck me," Linda said. "I want you to fuck me." She was lying through her teeth.

"Arid mean it. I want you to mean it!"

"Then get your hand off my hair!" she cried. "Have a few manners!"

He let another inch of the fine blond hair pull through his grasp. Linda sighed. "Fuck me, please. I really do want you to fuck me." He may as well, he had fought so hard to get inside.

"I'll fuck you, baby. I'll ram you so hard it'll come out your ears."

He let go of her, rose on his arms and began plunging his cock into her cunt. She dug her heels into the sheet and mattress and raised her buttocks to accommodate his seven inches. She was beginning to feel no pain. Just pleasure.

"Oh, honey," she couldn't help say, "oh, that feels good. Ohhhhh!"

Tim continued to screw her. He grunted with every hot thrust up her moist twat. He paused. Then he began thrusting again.

She dug her elbows into the mattress and hoisted her body even further up. Her back arched and her tits flattened.

"Now you look like a bitch in heat," commented her husband half-approvingly. "You know, you could be a pin-up."

"That's sweet." She wished she'd heard that years ago.

Every time he thrust hard into her, she thrust her pelvis up to meet his. Then she grew tired and lay still and just let him fuck her. She was panting and moaning at intervals now. Her fingertips and nails clawed the sheet.

As he continued to plow full-length in and out of her pussy hole, wet and dripping with juices, Linda felt the steady, monotonous rhythm of their clashing groins set up wild vibrations in her.