Home Invasion P.3

Your worst nightmare has come to pass. 

Your rapist is now a fixture in your daily life. 

You don’t even know how it really started. He was everywhere in your life the moment he realized that you were pregnant with his child. He sent you flowers and food while you were at work, pretending to be a loving partner when he couldn’t be further from it. Your coworkers were surprised to see that you had a ‘partner’. Your friend group was just as surprised, commenting on the fact that you kept him a ‘secret’ from them, even though you didn’t really consider yourself very close to them at all. They never asked about your black eyes and bruises, only commenting on your growing stomach and how hard it would be to become a single mother on your paycheck with no familial support. Yes, you were well aware. You had thoughts of giving his child up for adoption before she was born, but that hope was dashed the moment her father barged back into your life. 

He endeared himself to your friends, even to your estranged family that you haven’t spoken to in years. He wormed his way into your life with startling speed, shaking hands and giving polite cheek kisses to the women that he would sooner rape as he would give them a smile. You just stood there as he did it, head swimming and body feeling floaty as he talked to your parents, being welcomed by your father and praised by your mother for helping you ‘get your life straightened out’. You sat there and smiled, idly bouncing his  daughter on your knee in a bid to prevent your nerves from getting the better of you. You knew what would await you at home, if you so much as breathed incorrectly around this man. 

So you bit the inside of your cheek and played pretend in front of your family as they cooed over your new baby, one that you’ve bonded with, in spite of your circumstances. You stare at his daughter, feeling anxious as so many people get close to her and touch her soft little body. You move to take her back, but one look from your dear rapist has you remaining seated, a chill running down your spine as you fix your eyes somewhere on the floor. 

Almost two weeks after his daughter was born, he took you to a restaurant. Told you to dress nicely. So you did, or at least you tried to. Your body has changed significantly with pregnancy and childbirth, and most of your old clothes no longer fit you. You guessed he knew this, and bought you a little black dress that you could barely fit in. Your ass nearly hung out of them and your tits were about to pop out of the dress’s seams. But you gritted your teeth and wore it, along with the pearl necklace and earrings that he had bought alongside the dress. 

He didn’t compliment you when you arrived at the restaurant, merely waited for you to sit down at the table. You sat there, awkwardly, trying not to think about his baby with a stranger in your home. He ordered his food- a rare rib eye and grilled vegetables- and then proceeded to order for you- a mere leafy green salad, no entrée. Another jab at your weight… You tried to hold back tears as he fished something from his pocket, and waited for the food to come out. After cutting a bite out of his steak, he wiped his mouth and stood up. 

Then proceeded to get down on one knee. 

The rest was a blur. You just… You couldn’t believe it. Was this really happening to you? Why? What did you do to deserve this…? There were cheers and applause, some people snapped pictures as he slid the ring onto your chubby finger. They changed during your pregnancy, so he must have measured them sometime while you were asleep… There was a blank half smile on your face for the rest of the night. You don’t remember if you ate anything, and you don’t remember returning to your home. You just sort of blinked, and then it was dark and he was on top of you, strangling you as he finished inside of you for the final time that night. 

Why…? Why you? 

You were forced to make breakfast, even though you were beat up from the previous night and utterly exhausted from having tended to the baby at the same time. He sat at the table and ate his food, noisily slurping down some coffee as you sat there, with his daughter attached to your breast. 

“The wedding is at the end of the month.” He said with as much enthusiasm as one would comment on the weather. You just blink, still not fully processing the fact that this was happening at all. 

“Those bruises better heal, or I’m going to have to pay extra to get them covered up.” He crunched on some toast, and your stomach nearly revolted against your control as you heard him chew. 

“Is that clear?” You don’t understand the question. You sit there dumbly, patting the baby on the back as she suckles on your swollen nipple. 

“I SAID ‘IS THAT CLEAR?!’” You jump as his palm connects with the table. His daughter begins to cry. You begin to cry. He clicks his tongue at you and stands up, and you instinctively flinch and cover your face as he leans over you. But he doesn’t hit you, instead, he takes his daughter out of your hands and gently lays her head on his shoulder. 

“Ohh, it’s okay~ Mommy’s just a stupid piggy bitch that doesn’t know her place! Isn’t that right?~” He cooed at her. Her crying slowly settles to a whimper, and you were the only one left ugly crying, with your tit hanging out and milk leaking from your nipple. You squeal as he grabs a fistful of your hair. He pulls it hard, but lets go just as you feel your hair begin to tear from its roots. 

“I’m going to work. The house should be clean and dinner ready when I get home.” He went upstairs and placed your daughter into her crib, and you just sat there at the table, tears falling from your face as you heard him put his shoes on and slam the front door behind him as he left. 

None of it felt real to you, even as you were fitted for your wedding dress. Your mother and other female relatives were so happy for you, ‘oohing’ and ‘ahhing’ over you as the veil was placed in your hair. You tried to smile, but it came off as forced, though it’s not like anyone showed you much mind at all, except your mother. 

“Don’t worry! All brides have the pre-wedding jitters!” She smoothed your dress down and patted you on the back. “I know I did when I married your father.” She laughed, and you couldn’t help but burst into tears. Your family gathered around, seemingly assuming that they were tears of happiness instead of tears of resignation and fear. 

You dissociated for the entirety of your wedding. Your memories of it are blurry at best, you having kept your head down because you indeed had bruises from your now husband beating you the night before. The make-up artist covered them up, no questions asked. You guess she must have known him, or he just knew a lot of sleazy people that would do anything if the price was right. In the photos of that day, you barely recognized yourself under all the makeup you had to wear. How did no one else notice this? Maybe they didn’t care about you as much as you thought they did, or maybe they were just blind to it all. You weren’t sure which was worse… In most of the pictures, you had a weak smile on your lips, just barely visible under your slightly bowed head. You flinched when he leaned in to kiss you, but the crowd still clapped and cheered nonetheless. 

It was only when you were on the honeymoon did your senses come back to you. What the hell were you doing?! How could you allow this to happen?! You pulled away from him when he tried to take your dress off in the hotel room. It was a mistake, you knew that, but you couldn’t think of anything more revolting than to be touched by this man at this very moment. 

“…what are you doing?” His tone was dark, much like his facial expression when you turned to face him. You swallowed thickly, looking away as you began to back away from him. 

“I’m- I’m on my period.” It was such a weak excuse, one that did not go over very well with your now husband. He scowls at you and roughly grabs the front of your dress. 

“You think I give a shit? I’ve fucked your disgusting fat ass so many times already!” He grabbed the back of your head and ripped your hair out of its styling, and you cried out in pain as he wrestled you to the bed. 

“Please! Stop it!” You begged, knowing full well that it would be in vain. He grunted in frustration as you fought back for the first time… ever, really. You tried to slap him, but missed, and he released your hair and brought back his clenched fist. 

You blink rapidly, feeling stunned as he had punched you right on the bridge of your nose. Blood immediately began to gush from your nostrils, dripping down your face and onto your bridal gown. Your arms drop and you stop fighting, allowing him to flip you on your stomach as he unbuckles his trousers. 

“Know your fucking place, bitch!” He spat as he lifted the back of your skirt. He had to dig under it to reach your panties, which he tore down to your mid thigh as he brushed his fingers against your puffy, pink slit. 

“Nice and wet for me… See? I knew you wanted it…” He purred as he lined up with your entrance. You squeeze your eyes shut and gasp as he enters you, and cling onto the sheets as he fucks you into blissful oblivion against your will. 

It was like this every single night he was home. During the day, save the mornings, you were left alone, expected to take care of the house and the baby. Whenever he got home, you had to cater to his every whim, including of course sex. Even if you didn’t want it. No, you didn’t want it. At all! It disgusted and pained you to be fucked by him, and you hated every moment of it! You wanted to leave, but he made you quit your job right after the baby was born. You had no money whatsoever, and he would know if you left to work in secret thanks to the cameras he had installed in the house. Once, you tried to hire a baby sitter, and just as you had found someone, he had returned home with fire in his eyes and clenched fists. Never again… You knew better than to fight it anymore, and you just let whatever happened to you because it was easier than trying to rebel against it. 

It was less painful too… 

You knew what your only purpose was, he reminded you nearly every day what that was, when he was fucking you raw and filling you with his seed. “You’re just a breeding sow, a pig for me to dump my cum into, until a baby pops out.” Your dear husband declared that you owed him a son, now that you’ve given him a wonderful baby girl. The thought of carrying another of his children sickened you! …so why did the thought also make you so wet?! 

Something was broken in your brain. You had been raped too many times, and now your body not only expected it, but craved it. You found yourself preparing your pussy for when your dear husband returned at night, just so it wouldn’t hurt when he raped you, you would tell yourself. You also masturbated at the memory of the first time he broke into your house, fingering yourself until your juices hit the ceiling, cumming so hard that you forget it was nonconsenusal, and that you were fucked in the head for getting off to it. Maybe a part of you looks forward to the moments where he flips up your short dress and pounds you into the floor or wall, or when he puts you in a headlock and bullies your cervix until you think it’s about to cave in on itself. 

It’s only a matter of time before you're pregnant again. You’re ovulating, and the thought of being raped yet again as your legs quivering and your pussy leaking juices down your legs as you diligently wash the dishes in the kitchen sink. The short dress that you wore left nothing to the imagination, it accentuated your thick, curvy figure. It was of course one that your dear husband had picked out for you. You always wore an apron over it, with no bra or panties underneath your clothing. Ordinarily, you wouldn’t have felt so vulnerable in your own home but now? You are nothing but that… 

You strain your ears for your dear husband’s car and hear nothing. You lean your elbows against the counter and sigh to yourself. You’re so tired… It’s exhausting taking care of a house and a baby and a psychopathic rapist all at the same time. You weren’t sure if you could keep this up. And he wants another child?! You couldn’t do this anymore… You stare blankly at the dishes remaining in the sink, knowing you would get into trouble once he got home from work. Work… What did he even do for work? Did he even work? Or was he raping other women during his ‘business trips’? The thought made you sick, yet at the same time, you couldn’t help but think ‘glad it’s not me’. Maybe he would grow bored of this little ‘family’ that he’s pretending you two have and move on to another poor young woman instead? You could hope, you suppose, even if it was in vain. 

Just keep your head down and submit, like you always do. At least he won’t hurt you if you do as you’re told… You continue to wash dishes, vaguely aware that it was sometime close to midnight. If he’s not here yet, he won’t be home until tomorrow… It’s almost a relief for you. You allow your shoulders to sag and your eyes to close as you mindlessly scratch at a dish with a sponge. You could almost relax. Almost… But before you could, you felt an arm snake around your waist and a hand clamp onto your mouth from behind. 

“MMPFH-?!” Your startled cry is muffled behind a broad hand. A familiar hand. You feel hot breath tickle your ear as a tall man leans down towards your neck. 

“Miss me, baby?” A familiar, gruff voice whispers into your skin. Your hackles raise and your skin crawls as a kiss is placed on the nape of your neck, and it takes all your will power to not flinch away in fear and disgust.  

“M-Mmm…” You couldn’t help the tight lipped response. No, of course you didn’t miss him! The days you were alone with his baby could almost trick you into believing that everything was alright. Normal, even. But it always came crashing down whenever he returned… 

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as he slowly pushes you forward, leaning on you until your pudgy stomach is flush with the countertop, and your breasts hang precariously over the sink full of water. He shoved a knee in between your legs, wiggling it around until it pushed past your plush thighs and was seated directly against your bare pussy. He rocked his knee forwards and backwards, in a slow, methodical rhythm. You took in a sharp breath and held it, trembling as heat pooled in your stomach. 

“Did this piggy pussy miss me?” He breathed in your ear. You bit the inside of your cheek, not wanting to answer. It was too embarrassing! What part of that did he not understand?! When you didn’t respond, he grabbed the back of your neck and squeezed it tightly. 

“Did you hear me, bitch?!” He hissed into your ear, shaking you so violently that you swear you felt your brain bounce off your skull. Your breasts dipped into the water and sloshed it around, splashing all over the front of your apron where it soaked into your dress. You squeeze your eyes shut, whimpering as you nod your head in acknowledgement. 

“Yes what?!” 

“Yes, sir!” You squeaked, undignified and defeated. 

His pet name for himself. ‘Sir’. He didn’t deserve to be called that, but you would never say that to his face. You were already his punching bag, so if the psycho wanted you to call him ‘sir’, then you would call him ‘sir’. It was mandatory that you called him that. The punishment for not doing so could be any number of things. A slap to the face, spit in your eye, a punch to the side of the head- but never to your stomach. No, no, he would never harm any future children, no. He steered clear of your abdomen when it came to dealing punishments. 

How lucky for you. 

“That’s right.” His voice lowered once again, a soft coo as he reached around and began to fondle your now wet breasts. 

You whimpered as he groped your chest. He didn’t seem to mind the soapy dish soap that had soaked into your clothing. Despite having fed your daughter barely thirty minutes before he had come home, your breasts were already full of milk. You could feel milk leaking into your dress top, a sick feeling of relief and dread filling you as he pulled your top down and allowed your breasts to flop out against the apron you were still wearing. 

Your breasts were barely hidden under the apron, almost three cup sizes larger than your already too large bust was before your pregnancy. Your dear husband reached under the apron and pulled your breast to the side, so it was fully exposed. 

“Fuck, they are so heavy…” He groans into your ear, squeezing down on the fat under his fingers until a steady stream erupted from your sensitive nipple. 

“N-NGGH-!~” You moaned, flushing at the sight of your own breast milk mixing in with the dishwater underneath you. It would be a lie to say it didn’t feel good, that he didn’t make you feel good. You hated it, but you arched your back all the same and rubbed your thighs together in order to feel some kind of relief from the pressure building inside your gut. 

“Does that feel good?” He cooed, massaging your breast in a way that made the stream of your milk wax and wane. You nod, but remember at the last moment what you had to do. 

Your toes curl against the linoleum floor as he suddenly pinches your nipple. The sensation is enough to make your eyes water and your muscles cramp around your bladder. You make a noise somewhere between a gasp and a choked moan, watching behind tears as your dear husband manhandled you with no regard as to how you feel. He lifted your breast by your nipple, gently shaking it until you buckled under the feeling and squealed loudly in protest. He dropped you, chuckling as he fondled your other nipple under your apron. 

“That’s right! It seems you haven’t forgotten how to squeal for me since I was gone!” He laughed as he tweaked your other nipple. You sob, begging for mercy as he squeezes your milk out of both your breasts at the same time. 

“Fuck, it’s so hot that you are full of milk…” He groans in your ear. He continuously squeezes it out of you, pulling at your tits in a way reminiscent of how a farmer would milk a cow. “It’s so sexy you feed my child with these massive tits of yours…” He squeezes down hard, hard enough to hurt and leave bruises, but it makes you squirm in a way that wasn’t solely due to pain. 

He suddenly releases you, and you sigh in relief. It’s not over yet, though… It never is, not until he’s emptied his balls inside of your cunt. He hooks his leg around your own, forcing you to spread your legs wide. Just get it over with… You brace for the inevitable, pussy throbbing hotly and clenching around nothing as you wait for him to unzip his pants and push inside of you only… 

Instead, you gasp as he slid down to the floor. Your dear husband’s hands went to your thighs, squishing and squeezing them between his fingers. He slid his hands up, towards the lower curve of your ass, which was just barely visible under your short dress. Your dear husband slipped under the skirt of your tight dress and began to massage your buttocks, thumbs hooking into the valley of your thighs and pulling you open so he could see your pretty, pink pussy. 

“So wet, it’s glistening…” He leaned in and took in a deep breath, and you couldn’t help but to cover your face from sheer embarrassment. He briefly massaged the sides of your labia, before releasing you and continuing to massage your voluptuous ass. 

“You know, you’ve really put on the pounds since we first met.” Your dear husband commented, dry and factual. You chewed the inside of your cheek and mumbled a soft “yes, sir” under your breath. 

“You’re just a fat slob, aren’t you?” He spread your cheeks open, right where your asshole lay hidden. You tensed, holding your breath as your heart pounded in your chest. 

He’s never done anal things before. Not once. Would he do that to you? Would he take your anal virginity, just to prove that he owned all of you? You could feel his intense gaze behind you, worming its way inside of you and nestling deep within your guts. He hooked his thumbs against the soft skin that surrounded your puckered hole and pulled. You gasped, heart jumping up to your throat as he inspected you. 

“I should fuck you in the ass. Dry, just like our first time together.” His thumbs are almost touching your anus and it makes you throw up in your mouth. “That’s what piggy bitches deserve. Isn’t that right?” You knew he was waiting for a response, and swallowed your pride and your heart as you squeaked out a timid- 

“Y-Yes, sir…” He remained silent, as though contemplating whether he was actually going to anally rape you or not. You waited, ass sticking out obediently as you waited for him to decide your fate. Maybe you are lucky, or maybe not, given the circumstances, but he released you and chuckled. 

“Don’t worry. I see you as my breeding sow.” One of his fingers traced down to your wet slit, and you gasped as he played with your outer labia. “I wouldn’t waste my seed in such a dirty place…” 

Your dear husband spread your lips wide open with his thumb and forefinger. You gasped again, body trembling as he inspected you again. You wondered if he could pick your pussy out of a line up, if he remembered all the little details about it. Its colour, its folds, how your clit looks when swollen, how your entrance quivers when he stares or how it gapes, drooling cum whenever he’s finished with you… 

“Every drop of cum I have will go towards you giving me a son.” His finger traced the outline of your opened pussy. You squirm at the light touch, and your knees nearly give out when he ghosts over your clit with the pad of his finger. 

“Now be a good girl and finish cleaning the dishes while daddy eats his dinner~” Your dear husband purrs as he buries his face into your soaking wet cunt. 

You are unable to hold back a moan as he begins to eat you out from behind. You hate how thorough he is, how focused he is on making you cum repeatedly. You were already wound up, so it wouldn’t take much at all in order to push you over the edge. He took your clit into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue as he sucked on it. Your body reacts immediately, knees almost giving out yet again as you stare at the remaining dishes in the sink. Do the dishes…  Do the- 

“O-Ouuugh~ Mmm-“ You moaned loudly, subtly grinding against his face as you struggled to focus on anything other than the good feeling spreading from between your legs. You fumble with the dishes, biting your lip as your dear husband noisily sucked on your clit and circled it with his tongue. You try to scrub, but ultimately give up as you feel a heaviness in your stomach and a rapidly building tension that was on the cusp of snapping in two. He flicked your clit repeatedly, moving his head side to side as he continued to suck harshly on your sensitive nub. You grit your teeth but are unable to hold back the flood that suddenly crashed at your gates. 

“H-HA-!~ Ohhh FUCK-!~” 

Your entire body began to tremble as you suddenly squirted all over his face. It’s no less mortifying than the first time that you’ve done this, but luckily for you, he has never gotten angry at you for dirtying him during sex. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it when you squirted due to his actions. It always left you winded and flustered, unable to function as you struggle to regain control of your sensibilities. Your body crumpled while you orgasmed, a loud SPLATTER along with your moaning filling the kitchen as you squirted all over the floor he shoved two fingers inside of you, the sudden intrusion and rapid fingering of your vagina prolonging your climax and preparing you for his already hard cock that he had taken out of his trousers and was vigorously stroking with his other hand. 

“Mmpfh~ Fuck, that pussy’s so wet for me~” He stood up, pulling his fingers out and lining his cock up with your still quivering entrance. You panted, subtling shaking your hips side to side as you anticipated the stretch of his cock. 

“Stay like that, baby- Fuck yeah, like that~” Your dear husband groaned as he began to push inside of you. 

He filled you slowly, savouring every inch he sunk into you. You whimpered, biting your lip again as you felt him fill your belly. He grabbed your love handles, massaging and squeezing them as the head of his cock hit your cervix. You squirm at the full feeling inside of you, discomfort momentarily overtaking how good it felt to be penetrated. You muttered “n-no, please, not again…” under your breath as he began to pull out of you, ignoring your barely audible pleas as he begins to fuck you at a slow and steady pace. 

“That’s my special pussy…” He groaned as he fucked you, the sound of slapping skin and moaning filling the kitchen. “It’s nothing like those other cunts I fuck during the week.” Your apron was wet from breast milk and water, a large wet stain spreading down the length of it as more milk leaked from your nipples. You stare at the faucet, trying to focus on something else other than the building orgasm that was about to rock your body once again. 

His cock stretched you in a way that you had come accustomed to, though not in a way that allowed boredom and certainty numb the sensation. It still excites you, in the most negative sense of the term (you swear!) yet you can’t deny that your body has been Pavlov’d into growing aroused whenever he was nearby. It’s just a reflex, a response in order to protect yourself! Tears welled in your eyes as he leaned over you, picking up his pace and digging his fingers into your fat so hard that it hurt. 

“Yeah!~ Yeah take my fucking cock!” He groaned into your ear. “Does that piggy pussy feel good? Does it?” You gritted your teeth, a flustered moan escaping your mouth before you could properly respond. 

“O-OUUGH-!~ Y-Yes, sir!~ I- I love that cock in m-my pi-piggy pussy- EEEK-!~” You screamed as he pounded into you, pressing you hard into the counter as he railed you from behind. You cried for mercy, for him to slow down, just a little bit! But he wouldn’t. You squirted on his cock, forcing it out of your body, giving you a moment of reprieve. But it didn’t last long. He shoved it back inside of you, holding it in place as he ci continued to fuck you until his movements began to stutter. 

“Yeah! Yeah! Give me a son, you piggy bitch-!” You shake your head side to side, crying that “you didn’t want another one! Take it out! Cum anywhere else!” But your pleas only made him more excited. He pinned you down, to where your face would be in the water if you didn’t strain your neck to keep your head up. He cummed inside of you, panting as his balls throbbed hotly. You felt his semen fill you up, hitting your cervix as dread filled your lower stomach. You couldn’t stop yourself from cumming again as well, and he allowed you to push his cock out so he could rub it against your clit as you climaxed. 

“N-Noooo! No-! No-!” It wasn't a safe time for you! Did he know that? Did he keep track of these things? If you get cleaned up fast enough, maybe you won’t get pregnant again! But chilly realization set in as he pushed back inside of you, and began to fuck you with enough force to push your face into the dirty sink water.  

Your eyes burned from the soap, but you barely felt it over the panic of having your face submerged in water. You held your breath, slapping your hand on the kitchen counter to show you couldn’t breathe. But your dear husband didn’t stop. He kept fucking you, grabbing both of your wrists and pinning them behind your back with one hand so you couldn’t drain the sink. You were able to briefly rise from the water, and you gasped, blind from soap as you coughed. But you weren’t able to stay up for long. He grabbed the back of your head and shoved you back down, his pace picking up and the head of his cock slamming into your cervix repeatedly as he panted and groaned overtop you. You could barely hear it, it was muffled by water and your heart beating out of your chest, but you knew he was close again. You struggled to raise your head, but couldn’t!” Wait- Wait, wait- 

Are you seriously going to drown in your own kitchen sink?

No, no- This wasn’t happening. You being raped, that happened. You having your rapist’s baby, that happened. You having married your rapist, that happened. But not this. You aren’t about to die in the fucking kitchen sink. You planted your hands on the counter and began to struggle. You lost the little breath you were holding as he angles his cock towards your G-spot. Fuck-! Fuck! You begin to panic. You can’t get up no matter how hard you try. Your lungs begin to burn as you struggle to hold your breath for any longer. Sounds of your struggle fill the kitchen, and your dear husband relishes the sound as he reaches his second climax. 

You can’t stop yourself from clamping down around him. It’s practically out of fear and a desperate bid to not inhale a bunch of water. You feel him shoot his load inside of you again, and just as you see black invade the corners of your vision, he pulls your head out of the sink and allows you to breathe. 

“H-HAAA!~ HA!~ HA!~” You practically hyperventilate as you suck in needed air. It’s choked by a moan as he keeps fucking you, even through your squirting orgasm. 

“P-PU-LEASE! PU-LEASE!” You beg. You don’t even know what you want. For it to stop? To be left alone? Forever? For him to just get it over with and get you pregnant so he won’t try to hurt you anymore? He releases your wrists and reaches around for your breasts, squeezing them so hard that you cry out in pain. Milk is being wasted, streaming down your torso and dripping onto the floor as he rapes you. It’s rape. It’s still rape. It’s rape even if you two are married now. 

You have to remind yourself that you don’t want it, that you don’t actually want anymore kids. Your brain is confused, just like your body. You felt sick all the time, stressed and afraid. This isn’t normal. This isn’t right, none of it… 

Why did you let this happen…? 

“Fuck, I can’t wait for you to get pregnant with my son!” He releases your tits and grabs the loose fat of your stomach, squishing and squeezing it as he fucks you. You can’t catch your breath, no matter how hard you try. 

“Give me a son! You piggy bitch!” He yells as he slams into you with enough force to nearly knock you onto your knees. Your eyes nearly go cross as he cums in you for a third time, not relenting as you try to force him out of your pussy and not letting up as he races towards a fourth climax. 

By the time he was through with you, you were barely able to stand on your own two feet. Cum overflowed from your pussy, and had dripped onto the linoleum floor. You stared at the now soapless water, panting and struggling to hold yourself upright as your dear husband zipped his pants up with a satisfied sigh. 

“You have the easy part now. Just get pregnant with my child, and everything will be okay.” He stretched and yawned. 

“Oh- Before I go to bed, I want some actual food. Make me breakfast.” He smacked you on your exposed ass, making you squeak from surprise and pain. He goes to sit at the dining room table, but says one last thing before he sits down. 

“Oh! And before you go to bed, make sure to clean that mess up. I don’t want it to stain the floor.”