Fat Castaway Rises Again

NADINE

When the door of our bedroom banged shut behind me, the scent of his cologne and the expensive birthday cake we had gotten permeated the air in the room. I stood there in the slender black dress I wore for the birthday celebration at his favourite restaurant, my purse hanging by its metal strap, when my husband, Ares, approached me in the mirror.

"Happy birthday to me," he said in a rough voice as he moved closer.

His hands encircled my waist, pulling me back against his large but hard frame, and the sensation of him pressing against me made butterflies rush in my stomach.

He was drunk.

I could see that in the harsh tilt of his jaw and his eyes darkening as they bore into my form with a ravenous lust.

“You reek of liquor, Ares. You have to sober up a little and…”

His voice interrupted me.

“Today calls for the celebration, you party pooper!” he groaned.

Then, he leaned in to plant a kiss on the side of my neck, one which was nothing like him, his warm breath hitting my skin and making me shiver slightly.

I was instantly turned on. His firm hold on my waist tightened, not even minding whether I was suffocating or not.

“You look hot enough to be fucked tonight," he breathed in my ear, his wet tongue tracing a line on my ear lobe.

I threw my head back as a little moan left my now parted lips just as he added.

“But you don't look the way I want you to look either. At least not today.”

My eyes opened fast, and I froze where I was, but I did not move away yet simply because I had learned the hard way that doing it only made things worse.

He was drunk? Yes.

Did I want him? Yes.

In this state? No.

Could I say no? Maybe not.

His fingers traced their way along the zip of my dress slowly, pulling it down too slowly. The cold breeze touched my skin, causing me to shiver. He pulled the dress to my hips, letting it fall to my feet. And then, he backed away, surveying me as though I was something he had once owned but hated with an intense passion.

"Look at you," he sneered, venom oozing from every word he said. "You put on some weight. A lot of skin clumping together and…it's…fuck! Nadine…” he paused. “...will you ever be useful?.”

In that moment, I was reminded of how I had failed badly in my duty as a wife—to provide an heir from my husband.

My eyes stung with tears, but I blinked them away. In my mind, an image quickly flashed through my head—our first few months together. The nights he held me in his arms after work, telling me how much he adored my body, saying my body was made to bear his child.

We would laugh happily about when I burned the meals he cooked, me saying that I was his queen. We were so in love then. Stupidly, completely. I had trusted every single thing he had said to me.

But now this.

Tears fell down my cheeks as I sniffed and his expression suddenly changed.

“Oh baby,” he whispered. He squeezed my hips tightly, pressing into them with his fingers. “Baby. You I didn't mean to say that,” he said in a soft voice, turning me around to face him and wiping the tears off my face with his thumb.

He leaned in, his hot breath touching my face and he claimed my lips in his.

“I'm sorry.”

He kissed me, but I didn't kiss him back until he pulled away.

“Nadine,” he breathed, his hard bulge pressing into my thighs. “Please, I want you. I need to fuck you, please.”

That was all it took, everything he needed to get past my defenses because my body instantly gave in to him after that line.

My lips moved on their own as I kissed him, welcoming him, my tongue pushing into his to claim every damn thing.

He tasted so good, like he always did.

When he pulled away, he looked at me, one hand going up to move stray strands away from my eyes. “I didn't mean to say that to you,” he whispered, breaking the kiss. “Do you forgive me, Nadine?”

I nodded with a smile.

“Yes.”

“Let me make it up to you,” he whispered and began walking forward, making me stumble backwards until I fell on the bed.

The wetness that has been pooling low in my stomach gushed out of my pussy and stained in between my thick thighs which I pressed together almost instantly.

He climbed atop of me, making the bed sink under both our weights, and he took his jacket off. “Do you want me?”

“Yes,” I answered, sucked in a breath, watching his muscles flexed under his shirt as he ripped his tie open, tossed it aside and came down to kiss me again.

I cherished it, my hands roaming on his waist, then moving up to take off his buttons, and removing his shirt until he was bare. My fingers worked his belt off and I spread my legs, inviting him in. His eyes dropped to my wet streaked panties as he pulled away gently from me.

My legs were shaking like a salt shaker when he brushed his hand over my skin, and then, he bit down on his lower lip, pushing his fingers into my panties and pulling it down in one fast tug.

I cried out softly when his fingers circled my swollen sensitive numb.

Twice.

“That's more like it,” he muttered before he positioned his length at my opening and entered me in one swift motion.

“Ohhh…” I moaned, and his hips began thrusting forward, hitting hard at my cervix like a raging bull.

“You’re still so fucking tight,” he growled. Each word was punctuated by another brutal movement of his hips, slamming into me. “This is what you were made for–my birthday present!”

I cried out because it was too much—his pace, the pleasure.. every damn thing.

Soon, I was so close. But he slowed down and wouldn't let me cum quickly. My nails dug into his waist, my fingers urging him to increase the pace of his thrusts.

“I know what you want, Nadine,” he said with triumph. “Now, beg for it.”

I had to.

“Please, please let me cum,” I cried out with each slow, steady stroke of his thick cock in my slippery wet pussy.

And when I had begged enough, he gripped me hard and began to ram into me with the energy of a mating bull.

My eyes rolled back into my head because all I could see at that time was stars.

“Ares…” I cried out. “Please…don't…oh my…” I failed, the words barely making any sense to me as his thrusts kept slamming deeper into me.

My body was his to control, his to ravage and my climax built inside me, so intense. My pussy walls squeezed around him as the heat rose in me swiftly.

He noticed it, and went faster, his groans matching the familiar feeling of my body shuddering. He pounded even harder, his release close.

The pleasure hit me so strongly that I could barely see and my body shook from the force of his weight on top of me. And then it was done. He cursed as he pulled away and his cum spurted hotly against my belly.

And that was when it came—the quiet outburst, the deep irrational irritation he always had after we made love.

It was a routine.

One that I always prayed would never come whenever we were intimate.

Surprise, suprise!— it always did.

"Look at you," he sneered, "After so many years, and you still can not give me an heir despite all of the times I cummed in you. You're a damn failure, Arabelle. A big…” he paused. “....sterile waste of time.”

The words hit me hard.

“Useless pound of flesh,” he hissed, putting his dick away.

And I lay there, naked and trembling, with hot tears just silently pouring down my face. My heart was hurting more than my body. How on earth did both of us get here? Four long years of this—the deep pain, the betrayal, and the hate.

“Useless,” he murmured as he turned away from me with a small stagger.

I held back my sobs.

He went into the bathroom and the shower started up again, the sound of water crashing like my tears. I sat up, my heart pounding in my chest.

A sound came from his phone which he had left on the bedside table. I ignored it, but another one came again.

Something—curiousity maybe, or even my wifely gut feeling—whispered to me to pick it up and take a look at it.

My hands shook as I reached out and took hold of it. The light of the phone flickered on from the contact of my hand with the screen just as a text notification popped up on the bright screen saver.

[Susan: Hi, Ares. I miss you.]

Wait a damn minute.

Susan?!

His secretary?

What the fuck was this? Was he cheating with her? How could he…?

No. It had to be a stupid joke. She has to be fucking around with him.

They could not…

The phone lights up again with another message and I look down at it.

[Susan: When are you going to fuck me again?]