My Husband, My Stalker

By: Jessa Kane

But I can’t. I can’t walk away when I have the chance to be joined with Jolie.

It’s an impossible feat.

My hands go to my zipper, pulling it down and springing my cock free. Of course I’m hard as a rock. Because as much as I love this woman, I can’t help but also love having her restrained and horny, her tits rising and falling with growing anticipation.

At my mercy, one last time.

I reach up beneath her dress and tug down her panties, wincing a little when they land on the filthy floor of the storage unit. She deserves so much better than this, but here we are. If this is the only way I can have her, so be it.

Looking into her conflicted but turned on eyes, I cup her tits.

Mold them in my palms, before dragging my fingertips slowly down her ribcage, squeezing her hips and that supple ass, smoothing my touch down and up her thighs, then delve a finger between the soft folds of her pussy, groaning when I find her soaked.

“Ah, honey.” I push my finger deep, pumping it in and out, memorizing the feel and texture of her. “Does being the object of my mania make you a little too hot? Don’t worry, you can enjoy getting fucked by your stalker as much as you want and I won’t tell a soul. Your secret is safe with me.”

Her eyes spark ominously, but I don’t give her a chance to respond.

I yank her thighs up around my hips and plow my cock deep into her tight channel, relishing the sound of her stunned moan. How it echoes around the small room where I’ve fantasized about fucking her so many times. With the rafter supporting most of her weight, she’s lighter than usual, so I take hold of that claimed-wife ass and ride her up and down my dick. Fast. Without mercy. I bounce her like a little fuck toy the way she likes it, listening to her try to refrain from whining in my ear and losing the battle. Calling my name. Wailing it.

“Christopher. Oh my God. Oh my God.”

I slap her ass. “Going to miss this Daddy cock, aren’t you?”

She bites her lip to keep from answering, her eyes squeezed shut, as if ashamed of herself for enjoying what I’m doing to her so much.

“When I’m gone, when you’re in bed at night, trying to satisfy this pussy, you call for me by the right name. Evan.” Hating the way she stiffens and this newly revealed truth, I latch onto her neck with my teeth, raking that sensitive flesh and licking away the sting. I fuck her harder in some deluded effort to make her forgive me. “Matter of fact, you do it right now. Call me by the right name before I go. I want to see it on your beautiful lips.”

A beat passes. “Evan,” she murmurs brokenly.



I growl, wrapping my arms around her, mashing my lips into her neck, kissing, sucking, jacking my hips up and impaling her hard, rough, over and over, until she starts to whimper, her thighs trembling around my waist. “Good little girl. Come for Daddy one last time.”

Her scream is the sweetest music, her cunt gripping me, releasing, gripping, releasing, warm moisture aiding my final pumps, and I peak with a bellow, grinding up into her heaven and filling her with my hot spend. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” I chant into her hair, clutching her ass, using that grip to work her pussy roughly against my spewing dick. “I will love you forever, Jolie. My wife. I leave you with my heart.”

We both go still a moment later, our harsh breaths bouncing off the walls of this cave where I’ve obsessed hour upon hour over her. And I will always obsess over her, miss her, pine for her breath on my skin, but the real version of that is over now. It has to be. I’ve hurt her—scared her—and that is unacceptable.

Wordlessly, I untie my wife, rubbing her wrists to bring the life back.

She takes her hands back quickly, looks at me, looks around at the room. With tears brimming in her eyes, she edges toward the exit, as if expecting me to stop her.

I almost do. God, I almost do.

A beast growls inside me, telling me to tie her back up.

Hold her captive here. Possess her. Feed my obsession.

But I let her go. I let her run, because my love won’t allow me to do anything else.

And the farther she runs, the more painful my heartbeat gets…until I feel nothing at all but torturous agony.

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