I had just gotten home, a few hours before.
We were lying on the bed, snuggling in, enjoying the breeze coming through the open window and the silence enveloping the house. It was late afternoon, but evening was creeping in. The kids were elsewhere, quiet; we didn't know what they were doing, but they weren't intruding in our peace, so it didn't matter.
I was content, relaxing in the crook of Husband's arm, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath my palm. Our breaths slowed, matching in cadence, forming a gentle rhythm. My eyes were drifting shut.
And then Husband's phone rang.
It wasn't a call, but a text message. Husband read the message, and then he began to text back, typing with both thumbs. In his endeavors to type freely, he had dislodged me from the crook of his arm.
This did not sit well with me.
I began to stroke his cock through is shorts, slowly at first, gently, then with more vigor.
"I can't type when you're doing that, you know," he said. From his tone, I knew he was smiling, but there was an edge there, too.
I continued with my stroking, slipping my hand down the inside of his shorts to get better access to bare skin. Husband gasped. His typing slowed.
"You're making me make mistakes," he growled.
I pulled down his shorts and stroked around his cock, growing bolder, blowing hot kisses on it now and then. When I stuck out my tongue and carefully licked his shaft, he sat up.
"I can't do this," he said, throwing his phone back on the dresser.
"Aw, too bad," I answered, beginning to pull his shorts back up. "I'll stop."
"No, I can't do that--" he jerked his head toward the phone-- "but you're going to continue now. Finish what you started."
"I don't think so. I'm tired, and--" My words were cut off when he dug his fingers into my scalp and pulled my head back. I gasped from the pain. As soon as my mouth was opened enough, he lunged my face onto his cock, pushing his prick deep down my throat.
"That's better," he sighed. "No more talking."
I didn't do any more talking for a while, as my mouth and jaws and tongue were busy sucking cock. I made his pleasure last as long as I could, alternating rhythm and speed. I ran my tongue up and down his shaft, circling the head, bobbing my head up and down...soon enough, he was coming in my mouth, arching his body into my face.
When he was done, he told me what a good girl I am, what a good wife, and began to caress my ass. But when I shifted to move away, he grabbed it harder.
"You're not going anywhere yet," he said.
He pushed me onto my side, facing away from him, and pulled down my shorts, leaving my pantied ass on display. "This ass needs a spanking," he said, "and I think I need a belt."
He bade me not to move as he got the belt. A second later, I felt the fresh sting of leather hitting skin, and I flinched away.
He struck me again, and this time, I scooted to the end of the bed, whimpering in pain.
"You've forgotten how to stay still," he murmured. He grabbed the top of my panties in his palm, pulled them up until all the material had been pulled tight between my ass cheeks, and dragged me back to the middle of the bed. The material of my panties digging into my ass made a sharp wedgie indeed.
Husband resumed his belting, this time holding me still be pulling up on my panties every time I tried to move.
"You're going to love these lines," he said, belting me harder. "They're coming out nice and red." I could only cry out and whine in response; he was holding me hostage by my underwear, and belting me mercilessly.
Finally, long after I had turned into a blubbering mess, he let go of my underwear and ordered me up.
"Go look in the mirror," he said. I looked, and he was right: the belt had made a set of lovely red lines across my ass.
I looked back on the bed, and was surprised to see Husband putting on his shorts.
"What about me?" I asked.
"What about you?"
"Don't I get to come?"
"Yes: later. After I've belting your ass again. After the kids go to sleep, I'm going to belt it...and then I'm going to fuck it."
Husband is a man of his word.
I am so happy to be home.