Now he was into the fucking. His cock felt like a had pipe in her cunt-channel. He pumped away, his hand gripping her hip, his belly slapping against her asscheeks. He squeezed her ass, then he moved his hand to squeeze tits. She felt degraded by the fucking. All he was doing was using her body. Be fore long he would come and use her cunt like a toilet. It was awful. The bed creaked as he fucked her and she hated that, too. Why couldn't he be decent to her? She hated him when he was like this.

Then finally he was at the finish. As usual, he made noises when he came. He pumped away in her pussy as he emptied his balls. She felt the wetness, the sticky feel of his jism as he pulled his cock out and rolled away.

In a few moments he was sleeping again. He was finished with her. She waited until she was certain he was asleep, and then she slipped off the bed and went to the bathroom.

She closed and locked the bathroom door and then she sat down on the toilet. Ken's jism started leaking out of her pussy. She hated having his slime in her. She let it all leak out and then she mopped her pussy with toilet paper. She felt so used. She told herself she was nothing but a convenient hole for him.

She lingered in the bathroom, but then finally she went back to the bedroom. Now Ken was out of bed and seated near a window. He had his shorts on. He started picking on her immediately.

"You're an iceberg, Angie."

"Ken, we don't need another fight about that."

"You're a fucking iceberg."

"Please don't talk like that."

"But you are."

"And you're like an animal sometimes. Do you think I enjoy that?"

"A cold fish. I never thought you'd be such a cold fish."

It went on and on. He continued berating her. He said that after two years of marriage he expected more from her. Finally he left the bedroom. She heard him put his running suit on. Then he was out of the house to do his jogging. Angela was relieved. She was happy to be alone again.