Novel & Cerita Submissive Wife Literotica

Mark had a perfect view of that huge black cock stretching his wife's pussy lips obscenely wide. Her inner walls gripped him, creamy white pussy juice coating his shaft, he whimpered softly, as he tried to stop his hands from stroking his tiny dick. But a faggot is always a faggot, because with even stroking his dick, he was already cumming like a broken faucet as he watched his wife being used properly in a way he could never do it.

I don't want to believe as it and I'll never believe it that Mara, the wife I dot on could go and do such dirty things. My wife is an obedient and submissive, she is gentle, she doesn't talk much, whenever I talk she never talks back and she never look at me directly in my eyes, she always bows her head. I came back from jogging, and met my little wife swaying along with the scent that was coming from the bath. I stood at the doorpost admiring the kind luck I had of having such a wife when she looked back at me sharply. "Hubby.....t..the bath is ready" she stuttered.

When he entered, he immediately locked the door of the room while approaching his wife who was currently sitting on the bed smiling seductively. Luis sighed in resignation when saw his wife's naughty attitude, even though she only wore a bra and panties, he didn't know what was going on in his wife's mind. "I want to make love in this room, honey..," said Reya in a seductive tone, telling her husband about his desire since earlier. "I want to feel the sensation of having sex with my husband in this room because I want to feel a new sensation, especially when the bedroom window is wide open like now," she continued explaining to her husband, there is no shame or prestige when says his wish. L

He gestured at her with one callused hand, and she let the book fall open in her hands. Looking down, she read, Wives, submit yourselves to your husbands as you do to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything. She flipped the page forward, and read on, from the verses upon verses stacked across the page. ‘‘This is unlike any catechism I have ever read,’’ she affirmed stonily, and did not hide the menace which had crept into her voice.

Lucien raised a thick brow as he noticed the wetness and she blushed. He took her every evening, in this way, in various positions, for the Mafia Don might have got on in years but his insatiable drive for sex remained the same. And what made these moments precious was the way his little submissive wife continued to be ready for him, eager to please him… He grunted, his c*ck rearing already. He wanted to plunge himself into her wetness, knowing that beneath her full, flowing skirt, she had nothing on. Blushing, Proserpina hitched her skirt over her waist and leaning forward, she kissed him deeply.

I kissed every inch of her, lingering on the small swell of her belly, whispering promises against her skin that I wasn’t sure I could keep. When I finally pushed inside her, it was slow and deep. She was so wet, so hot, her pussy clenching around me like velvet fire. The soft, flushed folds of her pussy stretched beautifully around my thick cock, a stark contrast to her tiny frame. Every thrust made her moan, her walls rippling and squeezing my sensitive head in rhythmic pulses that made my vision blur.

"Mr. Rossini, could you let your wife get out first? Her leg isn't seriously hurt, and right now, there's a pregnant woman hemorrhaging badly. We need to use the emergency equipment in the ambulance—" Before the nurse could finish, a delicate voice sounded from inside the vehicle. "Dante, my leg hurts so much. Will I ever be able to dance again?" Dante's icy voice cut through the air with bone-chilling coldness. "My wife is a dancer. Her legs are more important than anyone here! I need to make sure she isn't left with a scar." He paused, then emphasized again, "No one is more important than my wife!" She was his wife? Then who was I?

“We’re married.” “I know,” he grinned, pulling her close by the waist. “And I still can’t believe I get to call you my wife.” His fingers slid slowly up her back, finding the tie of her robe and gently loosening it. Joanna’s heart raced as the robe fell open, sliding off her arms and pooling onto the floor. She was left in a white satin slip, barely-there lace outlining her curves. Justin’s breath hitched as he looked at her. “God, you’re beautiful.”

She had worked late into the night that day, rubbing her hands raw with blisters. As I applied ointment to her palms, I scolded her for being foolish. She had only smiled and said, “If my husband and child want something, I’ll make sure they have it.” We had been so good then. We met in college. She had been a poor student with nothing to her name, and I had been the son of the wealthiest family in Rivershire.

He momentarily froze, seeing his wife on the bed, reading an erotic book while wearing only a lace dress that showed everything underneath. It was always like this; his manhood would stiffen at the mere sight of her. She smirked and put the book away, then gestured with her finger for him to come over. He did, and she grabbed the towel from his waist. It was exactly what he had in mind; his wife became bolder every day, and their relationship continued to bloom.