"Asshole!" she muttered through his fuck-meat.

"Just shut up and suck," he said, loosening his hold on her neck. "Try and do a good job, huh?"

She inhaled deeply. The bastard. He was always telling her she'd lost her touch. Who wouldn't! He treated her like a maid and a whore. Who wouldn't resent it?

She felt herself respond as she fondled his balls and took more of his cock shaft into her mouth. She squeezed his nuts just a little too hard. It was a hostile act and she knew it. He winced and yanked on her hair.

"Take it easy," he said.

She sucked his cockhead hungrily. Juice leaked out of his pisshole and his knob felt like a giant mushroom in her mouth. Despite everything she dearly loved sucking his prick. At moments like this she remembered that despite everything she still loved Jack, in her own way.

Love and hate are closely related, she told herself. And nowhere is that more evident than in marriage.

As she nursed on his prick and caressed his balls, Jack played with her tits. She was wearing an old flannel nightgown and he didn't bother sticking his hand inside. He squeezed her big melons through the thick fabric. When he became tired of that, he pulled her nightgown up and she wiggled her ass until her tits bounced free.

He nonchalantly pulled on her nipples. Sometimes she felt like a cow being milked. Still, it felt good.

She widened the spread of her legs when he moved a hand over her ass. She was sorry now she'd worn the old nightgown to bed. It was bunched up under her armpits and just got in the way of her enjoyment.

He touched her cunt and discovered how wet she was. She twisted around, still sucking his prick, and opened herself to his exploring hand. He was a hostile bastard, but he still knew how to turn her on when he was in the mood.

"Don't stop rubbing my cunt," she said, her voice muffled by his prick.