My Desi Wife
What I missed in real life was being a man, being a bit mean to get what I want rather than holding the bag for someone else to get what they want. Gingerly, I let that abrasive, self-centered part of me come out more and more as I had my way with my dick in her skull. Instead of pleading softly: ‘Is this okay? A little harder or softer?’ I thrust in her mouth exactly how it felt best to me. I let confidence and going after what I really wanted come through. We had power transfers frequently. She’d beg me to fuck her while she was sleeping. I never actually went through because I was concerned about getting her consent at the time. She had been raped before and gone through a long and public court battle. The strain of not being believed had caused her to attempt suicide. Obviously, I was concerned about triggering fears and anxiety in her. Though, I was also concerned for myself. She never told me the details. What I know is that she didn’t remember the actual rape. And a few of her. ‘Hey Cal,’ Claire’s voice sounded nervous. ‘Claire! Are you okay? How are you feeling? How’s the baby?’ Cal asked, rambling questions like a mad man. Claire laughed uneasily. ‘I’m fine, not as tired. The morning sickness is gone, thankfully, and the baby is doing fine,’ Claire answered. ‘How far along are you now?’ Cal asked, not knowing what else to say. ‘A little over seven months,’ Claire answered. ‘Where are you? I need to see you,’ Cal wanted to know. There was a knock on his door and he put his hand over the mouthpiece. ‘Come back later!’ Cal called. He was just about to say something else to Claire when the knocking began again. ‘Just answer the door,’ Claire said with a laugh. Swearing under his breath, Cal walked to his office door and pulled it open. As it opened, Cal heard the call disconnect and gasped as he saw Claire standing in the doorway. Claire’s once blond hair was brown and her blue eyes were rimmed with dark circles. She hadn’t slept well the last few weeks, she.
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