Morning Rags & Rage

The rain hammered against the windows of the sprawling Victorian house, mirroring the frantic rhythm in my chest. My husband, Mark, was a force of nature, a primal heat unleashed upon my body. He’d been pounding me from behind, a relentless, insistent pressure that sent shivers down my spine and ignited a desperate need within me. It had started innocently enough, a stolen moment amidst a chaotic family visit. But the desire, the raw, unadulterated lust, had quickly consumed us, pulling us deeper into a world of shared pleasure and forbidden abandon.

The main bathroom, usually a sterile space of porcelain and chrome, had transformed into our sanctuary, a dark haven where inhibitions melted away with each thrust. My parents and extended family were gathered downstairs, oblivious to the storm raging in our small, private world. We’d thought of it as a quick, clandestine encounter, a brief escape from the suffocating weight of expectation. But the moment Mark’s hands found their mark, everything shifted. The urgency, the hunger, the sheer intensity of the experience demanded to be fed, to be nurtured, to be explored without restraint.

He’d started with a gentle, teasing rhythm, a prelude to the storm that was to come. His pants lay discarded on the floor, a testament to the complete surrender we’d both offered. My own trousers were pulled low, exposing my swollen, throbbing flesh. As his hands moved lower, a delicious anticipation built within me, a feeling so potent it threatened to overwhelm my senses. My eyes rolled back in my head, a sign of complete submission, as I lost myself in the sensation of his touch.

“Right there,” I moaned, my voice a low, guttural rumble. The pressure intensified, pushing me closer to the precipice of ecstasy. Mark responded with a deeper, more forceful thrust, his muscles straining against my body. The heat radiating from him was almost unbearable, yet I craved it, yearned for it, desperate to reach the peak of pleasure.

“Fuckkkkk,” I managed to gasp, eyelids fluttering uncontrollably. As his pace quickened, my body began to tremble, my grip tightening on his hips. I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my G-spot, followed by an explosion of sensation that ripped through my core. “Right there, baby,” I whimpered, unable to resist the pull of the moment.

Mark held me tight, his balls slapping against my clammy skin, a brutal yet exhilarating reminder of his dominance. “Harder, baby. Harder,” I urged, my voice strained with pleasure. He obliged, increasing the force of his thrusts, pushing me further into the depths of sensation. My legs threatened to buckle beneath me as the pressure mounted, but I held on, clinging to the edge of oblivion, reveling in the exquisite agony.

“Yes, baby. I moaned, my voice barely audible. “Keep going. Don’t stop.” The heat intensified, blurring my vision, stealing my breath. My body arched in response, desperate for release, for connection, for the ultimate surrender.

Then, it hit me. A wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washed over me, so intense it felt as though my body was splitting in two. “You’re right on my spot,” I moaned, my voice choked with ecstasy. “Don’t stop. Right there! Right there!” Tears streamed down my face, unable to contain the torrent of pleasure that surged through my veins. My pussy walls pulsed with the force of the orgasm, a tangible manifestation of the pleasure consuming me. As I finally succumbed to the overwhelming sensation, I felt a deep, primal release, a letting go of all inhibitions and responsibilities.

“Fucking beautiful,” Mark whispered, his voice thick with pleasure. He continued pounding me with renewed vigor, a testament to his devotion and my submission. The world around us faded into insignificance, lost in the intoxicating haze of our shared pleasure.

Suddenly, a sharp rap on the door shattered the spell. “I need to use the bathroom,” a voice called out, laced with irritation. My heart leaped into my throat. The family was onto us.

“You know we have two other ones,” I replied, trying to maintain a semblance of composure. “Someone’s in both,” the voice retorted, dripping with sarcasm. Ugh, I thought in despair. It was time to make an exit.

“I’ll be out in a moment,” I said, forcing a smile. Mark, sensing the urgency of the situation, shifted his position, continuing his assault on my senses while holding my hips tightly. “I’m sorry babe,” he whispered, “just cum in me.”

“I don’t want to yet,” I replied, my voice trembling slightly. “Well, they’re gonna know what we’re doing in here if we don’t get out.” “Maybe they should,” he grinned, as he pounded me harder, pushing me closer to the brink. “Fuckkkkk yeahhhhh,” I moaned, my eyes rolling back in my head, not caring about anything but the exquisite pleasure he was providing. “Oh my gosh, you’re on my spot again.” I moaned, lost in the moment.

Another knock echoed through the bathroom, but this time, my attention was completely absent. My body was consumed by pleasure, lost in the throes of orgasm. The world outside, the family downstairs, the rain hammering against the windows – none of it mattered. All that existed was the intense, visceral sensation of Mark’s hands on my body, the rhythmic pounding, the overwhelming pleasure.

“Yes, right there,” I moaned quietly, unable to resist the pull of the moment. My husband continued to fuck me harder, to the point I felt as if my legs were going to give way. I felt another climax building up, a crescendo of sensation that threatened to overwhelm me entirely.

Another knock, this time more insistent. “I need to do my hair.” I barely registered the words before… “AHHHHH fuck, baby!” I tried to hold back, but it was futile. “I’m cumming, baby. I’m cumming on you.” I whispered, my voice choked with pleasure. My body shook uncontrollably, my eyes rolled back, lost in the ecstasy of the moment. I smiled, a primal expression of pure, unadulterated joy.

“I came,” I breathed, my voice barely audible. “Twice.” “I know you did,” my husband said, his voice filled with pride. “I love it when when you make that face and your body can’t control any of it,” he whispered.

My husband started pounding me again from behind while holding my hips tightly. “FUCK, right there,” I moaned slightly. “Ooooo…” “You like that?” he asked, his voice thick with anticipation. I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away from the intense pleasure he was providing.

“Baby, we’re going to have to stop,” I said, feeling the weight of the family's presence looming over us. “Well, they can wait,” he said, his voice filled with determination. “This is important!” as he pounded me deeper, pushing me closer to the edge of ecstasy. “Fuckkkkk yeahhhhh,” I moaned, my eyes rolling back, oblivious to everything but the sensation consuming me.

The world shifted as I lost myself in the depths of pleasure. My body trembled, my muscles clenching, as the climax reached its peak. I felt every inch of my body responding to his touch, every nerve ending firing with a symphony of sensation. It was an experience beyond description, a complete surrender to the primal urges within me.

As the final tremors subsided, my husband pulled away, his breath ragged, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. We both stood there for a moment, savoring the aftermath of our shared pleasure. Then, we turned on the sink, pretending to clean up the evidence, a desperate attempt to maintain the illusion of normalcy. As I opened the bathroom door, I was met with the sight of my mother standing there, her face a mask of disapproval. She didn’t say a word, simply closed the door behind her, leaving us exposed in the aftermath of our transgression. The rain continued to fall, washing away the remnants of our secret rendezvous, but the memory of the intense pleasure we had shared would linger long after the storm had passed.

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