$name1 straps on a thick cock, blindfolds her husband, and fucks his arse until he cums untouched and sobbing her name.
The blindfold was silk. The harness was leather. The cock strapped to $name1’s hips was thick, veined, and the same shade of pink as the one she sometimes bought for herself.
Her husband knelt on their bed naked, wrists loosely tied to the headboard, breathing hard. He had asked for this for months in soft embarrassed whispers. Tonight $name1 was done being soft.
“Colour?” she asked, stroking his hair.
“Green,” he said. “Please, $name1. I need it.”
She kissed his mouth, then pushed two slick fingers into his arse without ceremony. He gasped and pushed back onto them. She worked him open patiently — scissoring, curling, adding a third finger — while her other hand stroked his cock so he stayed hard and desperate.
“You’ve thought about this,” she murmured. “Your wife bending you over. Filling you. Using you. Say it.”
“I’ve thought about it every night,” he confessed. “I want your cock in my arse. I want you to fuck me like I fuck you.”
“$name1’s going to do more than that,” she said, and lined the strap-on up against his stretched hole.
She pushed in slow. The harness tugged against her clit with every inch. He moaned long and broken as the thick head popped inside, then again as she fed him more. When her hips finally met his cheeks she held still, letting him adjust, rubbing circles on his back.
“Breathe. You’re taking your wife’s cock so well. Look at you — blindfolded, tied, stuffed full. My good boy.”
“Fuck — it’s so big — don’t stop—”
She started to move. Short thrusts at first, then longer, then a steady filthy rhythm that made the bed creak and his cock bounce untouched against his belly. Every drive of the strap-on ground the base against her clit; she was soaking the harness already, moaning almost as loud as he was.
“Tell me how it feels,” $name1 ordered, spanking his arse.
“Full,” he sobbed. “Owned. Like I’m yours. Harder — please fuck me harder—”
She gripped his hips and pounded him. The wet slap of harness on skin filled the room. She reached under and stroked his cock in time with her thrusts, then deliberately let go so he had nothing but the pegging.
“You don’t get my hand,” she said. “You’re going to cum from my cock in your arse or not at all. Beg for it.”
“Please, $name1 — please make me cum — fuck my arse — use me — I’m your whore tonight—”
The words tipped her over. She came against the harness with a sharp cry, hips stuttering, and fucked him through her orgasm harder than before. He wailed, blindfold damp with tears, and then he was cumming too — untouched, cock jerking, thick ropes painting the sheets while his arse clenched around the strap-on.
$name1 kept thrusting through it until he whimpered from oversensitivity, then eased out carefully. She untied his wrists, removed the blindfold, and kissed his wet cheeks while he shook.
“You were perfect,” she whispered. “So fucking perfect for me.”
He pulled her down into a desperate kiss, tasting salt and gratitude. “Again,” he said against her mouth. “When I can breathe. I want you to fuck my throat with it first next time. Then my arse again. I want to taste myself on your cock.”
$name1 smiled, still strapped, still wet, and stroked his hair like a queen with a favourite pet.
“Tomorrow night,” she promised. “Same blindfold. But I’ll record it so you can watch yourself take every inch afterward like the desperate husband you are.”
He groaned and buried his face in her tits. She held him, harness still buckled, and felt more powerful than she ever had with him inside her — because tonight she had been the one who filled, claimed, and ruined, and he had loved every filthy second of belonging to her.
She didn’t unbuckle right away. Instead she straddled his chest, the slick strap-on bobbing near his lips, and fed it into his mouth.
“Clean your wife’s cock,” $name1 said softly. “Taste your arse on it. Show me how grateful you are.”
He sucked eagerly, messy and devoted, eyes locked on hers. She fucked his throat in shallow thrusts until spit ran down his chin, then pulled free and flipped him onto his side. She spooned up behind him, hooked his top leg back over her hip, and slid the cock into his tender arse again — slower this time, deep and intimate, one hand on his spent cock and the other on his throat.
“I love you,” she whispered as she rocked into him. “I love fucking you. I love that you’re mine like this.”
“I love you,” he gasped. “Don’t ever stop owning me.”
She fucked him to a second, shivering orgasm that left him sobbing into the pillow, then finally eased out and unbuckled. They fell asleep tangled, the leather harness on the floor, his arse sore and her cunt still throbbing — a married couple who had finally said the quiet part out loud, and found it fit perfectly, filthily, forever between them.
