Martha Roy was almost always harried when her husband Frank was around. She was a nervous woman, and Frank knew how to get to her. She was always ready to jump in his presence, sure that he would somehow or other manage to find something to scold her over. At times she had thought of leaving Frank. It seemed wrong to spend so much of her life feeling miserable. Yet the courage or the determination always failed her. She stuck around, and she continued to worry about how to please Frank.
The scrambled eggs and bacon were sitting at his place at the table, waiting for him. Martha began to fidget. She knew how Frank hated cold eggs. She tugged absently at the ties of her robe. She would give him two more minutes, then she would put his breakfast in the oven.
Just at that moment Frank appeared. He was freshly shaven. He wore a clean, neatly pressed shirt. He looked handsome, Martha thought, even though he was carrying an unnecessary twenty pounds around his middle.
He rubbed his hands together in anticipation when he saw the food. He scarcely looked at his wife. She stood by the stove watching him as he wolfed down his meal. Long ago, Martha had given up trying to make breakfast time conversation. Frank spent his breakfasts with the sports page. Martha had her breakfast after he left for the high school. The arrangement kept peace in the family.
"Will you make me some more toast, Martha? I'm hungry as a bull this morning." He looked up at his wife over the paper. "What the hell are you looking so hangdog about? God, woman, why don't you comb your hair in the morning and try to make yourself look civilized? Shit, how's a guy supposed to get it up around something that looks like that?"
He went back to his sports page. Martha waited for the toast to pop. She was used to his disparaging remarks. There had been a time when she felt she did not deserve them. She had tried to keep herself pretty-looking, but Frank did not even seem to notice. Lately she had given up wearing makeup and arranging her hair in the morning. There seemed no point. She was thirty now. No one noticed her. She might as well make herself worthy of Frank's cutting comments.
Yet still they hurt. Martha had been twenty when she married Frank, who had been almost thirty. She had been crazy about the big handsome athlete who had just given up a minor league football career to become a high school coach. She had expected life with Frank to be warm and loving and secure. She had expected a family.
But Frank had soon made it clear that he did not want kids around. "I get enough of them at school," he told her. Martha had soon grown bored with her life as a housewife, but Frank had forbidden her to go to work. He made it clear that as far as he was concerned, her job as his wife was a full time concern.
Bored and frustrated, still Martha stayed with her big, hard-drinking husband. While he drank beer and watched TV, she read romance magazines about the things in life that seemed to be passing her by. She felt all her hurts and anxieties catching up with her as she stood over the toaster. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She tried not to sniffle to give herself away. She knew how Frank hated her to cry.
But she could not help herself. The tears flowed faster and she had to sniff to get air into her lungs.
"Where the hell's my toast? And what the hell's the matter with you?" he demanded roughly.
"N-n-nothing…"
"Ah shit… don't tell me you're going to pull one of your self-pitying acts again!" He threw his fork down onto his plate and stood up. Martha cringed. She hoped this was not the beginning of one of her husband's temper tantrums. She did not think she could take it this morning.
But instead of flying into a temper, Frank grabbed hold of his wife and bent her rudely over the kitchen sink. He lifted up her robe to reveal the still shapely cheeks of her ass. He caressed them roughly. His actions aroused the lust latent in his balls. His cock began to strain against his trousers. "I know what's the matter with you, woman! I haven't screwed you for a couple of days. You're probably climbing the walls with horniness… am I right… cunt?"
He liked to tease her by goading her about her bottomless sexual appetite. Martha did like to make love. It was the only thing she did in life that was really intense, really meaningful to her. She responded wantonly to Frank's frequent sexual advances, but she often wished, he would be more tender with her. She longed for a lover who would be more romantic… who would compliment her and woo her and whisk her away with his gallantry. That was the kind of lover she read about in her magazines. It was not the kind of lover she had for a husband.
Frank slipped his hand in along her buttocks and grabbed at the slightly swollen flanges of her cunt. "Just as I thought! It's hot and wet already! Well, don't worry, Martha my girl! I'll give you what you need! After all, what's a husband for!"
Quickly he unzipped his fly and pulled out the swelling shaft of his cock. While he held the hem of her robe above her waist with one hand, he guided his cock-tip in toward her cunt with the other. When his cock found the soft fleshy place, it shoved forward. He grunted as he drove his cock in all the way to the hilt. Her cunt-walls closed around his cock and squeezed it tight. "You're a greedy little bitch, aren't you, Martha? Shit, give me a minute woman! I'll screw you good! Don't you fret!"
Though she felt humiliated by the rough way her husband was using her, still Martha could not help responding to the filling thick presence of his engorged cock.
"Uuuuuuuhhh… Oooohhh. Oooohhh God-d-d!" Tears forgotten, she began to wiggle her ass back to meet the steady fierce lunges of Frank's fat cock.
"There! What'd I tell you! This was all you needed all along, woman!" The big man gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as he hunched his hips forward to fill his wife's twat with pulsing cock. Frank had just had a good meal. One sense stimulated another. It felt good to satisfy his cock's hunger once his belly had been fed. His two extra pieces of toast lay forgotten on the counter while the man concentrated all his pent-up energy on soundly reaming his wife's cunt. "Shit, one thing I've got to say about you, Martha! Your cunt's still as tight as it was the first time I screwed you."
Even this grudging obscene compliment was eagerly lapped up by the neglected woman. Though her external appearance never seemed to satisfy him any more, her cunt still pleased him. She ground her ass round and round, maneuvering her pelvis to find new angles for his cock to penetrate her pussy. She was playing her best feature to best advantage. She wanted to wow him with the hot supple talents of her eager cunt! "Ooooooooo… oh Frank, your cock feels so good, honey!"
"You're damned right it does. Shit! Move that sweet ass, woman!" He watched her trim ass-cheeks revolve in first one direction and then another. He reached around and up under her robe to squeeze her nipples. They were already hard, but his crude caresses made them harder. They stood out like stiff digits from the peaks of her swaying breasts. "Oh, feel these nipples! They're hard as pebbles! You sure wouldn't know it to look at you, Martha, but you're a whore at heart, you know that woman!"
Again his crude comment wounded her. But it excited her too. Even the idea of being a whore – if only for a few minutes and right in her own kitchen – seemed more exciting than being an aging unappetizing housewife. Martha's self-esteem was highest when her adrenaline was flowing and her cunt was getting a good drubbing from hard filling cock. She felt on top of the world then. She felt like she was beautiful and sexy and desirable. She didn't need him to compliment her! She just needed him to screw her! Hard and deep and often!
Recklessly, she thrust her buttocks back to challenge the solid in-strokes of her husband's cock. The harder he screwed her, the more abandoned grew her own answering lunges. She braced herself against the edge of the sink and thrust her ass back with all her might. His cock was in her deep! She loved it that way! "Ooooooooohhh… oh God, I love it! I love it, Frank honey!"
Frank was panting hard, but still the stroking of his stiff cock never faltered. "I know you do, cunt! Shit, it's lucky I'm a born athlete! I'm the only man who could ever keep up with you!" It was a pleasing way to start the day for Frank. With his wife bent half naked over the kitchen sink while he got himself a day's supply of hot-pussy massage.
Absorbed as he was in the pleasures of his hard cock, Frank still realized he must soon be off for work. He began to stroke Martha's pussy with the intention of exciting himself to orgasm. He was working now to give his wife her day's supply of hot cock-jism. "You just keep doing it like that, woman, and you're going to have yourself a pussy full of cum in no time!"
He slapped her on the ass to egg her on. Like a high-slanted race horse, she responded to the encouragement. Whining and mewling incoherently, she slammed her ass back at her husband's loins again and again. She felt his cock-tip strike her cervix, yet still she kept on laboring. Nothing could hurt her now. She was a panting cauldron of pleasure! She was a bottomless pit of lust. Aroused as she was, she could admit it now. She didn't mind being a greedy whore when she was high on the erotic tide of abandon.
"Do it to meee, Frank! Screw meeeeee!" She shivered as she realized how totally she was under the influence of the man's sexual power. He was the same man who ignored her and abused her and criticized her by turns. Yet when it came to his cock in her cunt, she forgot all her grievances against him and restored her soul with the filling massage of his thick cock. She bent over shamelessly before him and begged for more of his hard cock in her needing pussy!
Frank grunted. His wife moaned. The aroma of sex replaced that of toast in the kitchen. The air was tense with the effort that both Frank and Martha were putting out. Each was striving for their own orgasm. Each was absorbed in the restorative power of cock-cunt massage. Time seemed to stand still as they hovered on the brink of crisis.
Martha broke the tension with the wailing cry that proclaimed her great orgasm. "Ooooooohhh… jeeez-z-z! Oooooohhh I'm-m… cummmmm-ing-g-g-g!"
Frank's tense expression relaxed into a grin as he felt himself yielding to the hot tug of his wife's spasming pussy. He relished the lusty sensation of spilling his load deep into her cunt. He held himself flat against her ass until he was sure she had gotten every drop he had to offer. Then he backed away. His limp cock slipped from her cunt with a little popping sound. "Oo-ee, your pussy sure felt good, baby! Now make me some more toast while I go upstairs to wash up."
So quickly it all vanished. For a little while, Martha had felt special. She was an erotic, abandoned, fulfilled woman. Now, suddenly, she was reduced again to the status of Frank Roy's slave.
Her cunt was still throbbing with pleasure. But it would have felt so much sweeter if he had stayed for a while to hold her and kiss her and tell her how wonderful she was. Just once, it would have been so nice. This time, she had less trouble fighting back the tears that wanted to fall. She had some small consolation to see her through the day. She had a well-screwed pussy to show for her status as Frank Roy's wife!
Though her husband called her a whore, Martha knew better. She was just a normal woman who wanted some romance in her life. Some tenderness.
She knew she would never get them from Frank Roy.