You ever wake up thinking it’s gonna be a chill day… And then life decides to shove your face in the dirt?

7 AM. My day off. I get the call. “We need you on site.” No warning. No courtesy. Just expectations.

So I drag myself in, and I’m stuck for eleven goddamn hours—waiting around for everyone else to finish their shit so I can do my one hour of work. That’s it. One hour of doing, ten hours of sitting, stewing, burning up from the inside out.

And while I sat there—bored, pissed off, and hard—I started gooning. Reddit, gifs, filthy threads. Bouncing asses, girls talking nasty, stories about degradation and being owned. It got to me. Fed something already boiling.

All I could think about was her. My wife. My beautiful, filthy, obedient little wife.

I texted her:

“Get ready. I’m coming home with one thing on my mind.”

She sent back:

“OK 😏”

That emoji? Lit the fuse.

I get home. Slam the door behind me. She’s there—soft curves, no bra, silky pajama pants hugging her ass like they were stitched on by lust itself.

I don’t say a word. I grab her. Kiss her like a man who’s been starving. And then I spin her around, bend her over, and rip those pajama bottoms down. She gasps, but doesn’t resist—she knows the game.

Shaved smooth. Warm. Wet already. Her skin’s so soft it almost pisses me off. She’s ready for me and I’ve been denied this all damn day.

I shove my face between her legs. Lick slow. Then deep. Clit to opening. Opening to ass. Over and over. My nose buried in her, my tongue fucking her, my hands gripping her thighs so tight she won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow.

“You like when Daddy teases your holes?” I murmur, voice thick. “Mhm… yes… please…” she breathes, barely audible.

I grab her hair.

“Speak up. Use your big girl voice.”

“I love it, Daddy… you use me so well…”

I growl. Not from anger—from hunger.

I drag my tongue slowly over every inch of her, from her sweet little clit to that tight pink backdoor. I swirl spit over it, then bury my tongue deep. She whines. Moans. Pushes her ass back against my face like the mess she is.

“God, look at you,” I whisper, pulling back for just a moment. “Covered in spit and your own juices… You taste like heaven dipped in filth. I could stay here all night.”

She shakes. Whimpers. And then she begs.

“Please, Daddy… I need it. Need you inside me…”

I stand, press against her, and slide all the way in—no resistance. She’s soaked. Practically begging to be ruined.

I start fucking her hard. This isn’t lovemaking. This is everything I’ve been holding back all day. I slap her ass. Grab her throat. Bite her shoulder. Slam into her like she’s the reason I lost my day off—and maybe she likes pretending she is.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” I growl. “Yes, Daddy—God, yes—use me…”

I pound her harder. Sweat dripping. Her moans getting ragged. Every time I look down and see her body bouncing under me—see the mess I’ve made of her—I feel another wave of hunger.

“You’re mine,” I snarl into her ear. “Say it.”

“I’m yours—I’m yours, Daddy—fuck—I love it—don’t stop—please…”

She breaks. And I do too.

I pull out and unload all over her ass and back—thick, hot, heavy. We’re both gasping. Her skin’s slick with sweat, her thighs trembling.

But we’re not done.

We stagger into the shower, rinse off, catch our breath. But when we step out, she drops to her knees—eyes wild, lips parted.

Second round. Missionary. Deep. Eye contact. Possession.

I hold her legs up, slide back in, and this time I take it slower—deeper. She whimpers my name like a prayer.

When I pull out to finish again, she surprises me—leans forward, takes my cock into her mouth, and sucks the cum out of me, never breaking eye contact.

She’s never done that before. Not after everything. Not like this.

But tonight? She knows exactly who she belongs to