But no more.

For recently, Guy had taken to preferring making love in the dark, and Dora knew what this meant. The fact that her husband now yearned for darkness was a sure sign to her that he probably wanted to imagine he was making love to someone else.

Not that there was any other indication of his straying interest.

Occasionally she thought she had caught a word through his passionate gasps -perhaps a part of a girl's name – but it was impossible to link those disjointed sounds with any illicit infatuation on Guy's part. It was all too unclear and imprecise.

Pushing these tormenting thoughts from her mind, the lewdly skewered wife worked her hips around and groaned, feeling the enormity of her husband's penis sliding so achingly in and out of her burning vagina.

It was like being dredged with an earth-mover when Guy was inside of her, his cock was so huge and dominating. It had always been like this, and that was part of the reason she had loved him and been so passionately devoted to him all of her life. Even when he was only seventeen, his penis had seemed so huge to her, with all those rough, vagina-rippling little ridges, that it had immediately dominated her every thought and consideration for the future.

Dora had never regretted her decision to devote herself wholely to making Guy Donovan happy. He had proved to be a husband and lover without equal, and her loins still ached from time to time, at the most peculiar of moments, when she thought of her handsome, dynamic and cunt-pleasingly hung husband. She might just be lingering over the kitchen sink washing dishes and daydreaming aimlessly, and her mouth would water and her loins begin to chum thinking of the wonderful fucking he had given her that morning or the night before. To live as his slave forever was surely the highest ambition she could have.