It was early morning and Catherine Anne hadn’t gotten over yesterday’s encounter with the spectral potential client, Catherine Anne needed to reassert her control over her universe.  That bitch had set off every alarm in Catherine Anne’s head and she hated being scared.  Maybe mental imagining would help.  Mental imaging was a therapeutic version of meditation and always helped Catherine Anne when she wasn’t as stable as she needed to be to face the freaks and lunatics who populated her thriving practice.

She carefully focused her mind on positives as she got ready for her day.  The practice was going well, thought Catherine Anne.  In fact, things could hardly be better and today was one of her kind of days; a new couple was coming in to interview her and Catherine Anne had her eyes on both of the pair.  Maybe she could have them both.  She was focused on the positive so much so that she didn’t see the impending threat just across the bed room.

Unfortunately for Catherine Anne, Charles had seen her picking out her panties from his vantage point in the bathroom and she hadn’t noticed him noticing.  His voyeur activities had gone undetected by her until she heard the light slapping sound of furtive masturbation coming from near his sink on the other side of the bed room wall.  Semi private masturbation was his nearly daily habit.

She heard him jerking off as she pulled a revealing but professional dress over her head.  She was hugely grateful he wouldn’t be bothering her sexually today.  In short order she heard his muffled grunt and the sink run and she assumed her sexual duties for the day were over, at least as they related to her husband.

She had just reached under her dress, and adjusted her black silk thong to her liking when her naked husband, still sporting an erection, appeared around the corner.  His penis, larger than most and fucking unattractive to her, pointed threateningly at her. 

Damn it, she thought, she should have done peacekeeping again last night.  He had earned that much with his exemplary oral service that he had given her the night she had fucked Bill and the trucker in the parking lot.  She was still surprised her husband didn’t recognize the taste of another man’s sperm.  Then again, she had never allowed a man to cum in her mouth.  The thought of semen in her mouth, well that was just gross enough to make her choke.

The consequence of the decision not to fuck last night pointed at her right now.  While she had hoped his usual morning “secret” masturbation would sate his need, she had been wrong.  Now he would want her and he would be able to fuck much longer.  There just didn’t seem a good way out.  Catherine Anne managed a quick smile and moved to the constantly rumpled bed.  She bent over to move the mounds of clothes that she used to discourage sex.  She began to push aside piles of mismatched socks and underwear so there would be room for the standard missionary sex she expected.  She desperately hoped he wouldn’t go down on her.  She had carefully shaved this morning and his ridiculous moustache would irritate her smooth skin.  They seldom had anything but the most boring sex.  The only time they had consistent sex was on vacations, when the horny bastard would expect to be serviced three or four times a day.  That was when he expanded his demands into doggy style sex.  Thank god, she thought she wasn’t on vacation.

She prayed that this would be a slam bam deal.  She had a moment of inspiration and decided to suck him off a bit before he fucked her, that always got him over excited and that might offset the prolonging effect of his jerking off into the sink.  Just as she was ready to turn and drop to her knees, she felt his hands on her hips.  It startled her so much that her arms collapsed to the bed. 

Suddenly, he was pulling up her skirt and probing for her thong with unpracticed fingers.  His voice was low with testosterone laced need, “You started buying these thongs to turn me on didn’t you honey?” She had no choice and just nodded, not trusting her words to lie convincingly.  He continued, “It worked, I noticed, so I did some research.” 

Catherine Anne spoke up from the pillow she found her face pushed into, “You researched sex?” 

 

Dr. Charles had researched that, and so much more.  He had read on every form of sexual response he could find and came to the, oh-so-scientific realization that his wife just needed a good solid, what was the phrase, bitch fucking.  Today, he would give that to her and she would be grateful and far more sexually available to him.  With that one thought in mind, he ripped her thong to the side, just like he read in the, “how to make love to a hot woman” book.  Then he rammed his turgid cock at her. 

He began to pound quickly and fiercely, and in his head he was startled as he thought, God it felt so tight and hot this morning, not at all like how loose and damp she usually was, it was spectacular.  He couldn’t have stopped to save his life. 

Years of frustration vented from his pounding hips.  He jack hammered into her and thought, that, finally, he was fucking his wife like a real man should.  This was how he would take her vagina…no he rethought…her pussy….no better yet, her CUNT, his head screamed, this was how he would take his wife’s cunt, every fucking time he wanted it. 

Catherine Anne was screaming into the pillow.  The thong had ripped over her sex causing her a pain that she didn’t enjoy nearly as much as a good nipple twist.  The head of his dick had missed the mark and pressed into her ass.  She had tried to adjust but the idiot was too into some cave man thing and had pushed harder.  He had forced himself in aggressively and in one painful thrust was slamming into her ass cheeks with his hips.

She groaned and tried to force herself back up but couldn’t regain her position.  Below her pounding husband she kept trying to get the words, “that he was in the wrong fucking hole”, out of her mouth but pain and pounding made it difficult to speak.  It seemed that he mistook her grunts as enjoyment and doubled his thrusting and mercifully expended his seed into her. 

 

In the fevered coupling, Charles had begun to sweat profusely and the salty rivulets dripped onto her exposed ass.  He watched, enthralled as the sweat tracked down her ass cheeks and on to his penis shaft still deeply buried in his wonderful wife.  At that terrible moment he noticed and in his head he screamed, “Oh my God, I’m in her, oh Jesus, I missed, I am fucking my wife in her” — he couldn’t thing anything other than rectum.  Charles double clutched his hips and jolted back up to speed, “Oh.  Oh.  Oh, that’s wrong, it’s the wrong, it’s just wrong.”  Religious panic ravaged his brain and he tugged back until he heard the sickening sound of his foul penis pop out of his wife.  He covered his sex and ran to the shower to clean the dirty sin off. 

Dr. Charles quietly finished his shower and slunk out of the house to cleanse his soul by saving more fortunate and less healthy humans.  Things would never be the same again.

 

Catherine Anne escaped to the back sun porch and rocked with disgust.  After Charles left, she took her own shower and surveyed the damage.  She would be ok, but she was seriously icked out for her therapy session with the new couple.  She reconsidered.  Maybe she could still try with the couple.  A good fucking, in the right orifice this time would straighten out her day.  She was beginning to feel better already.  She selected her sexiest work clothes, found a new thong, cut the silk one up and threw it away.  Her ass fucking husband could spring for a new black silk thong.   She dressed, did her make up and readied herself to use another couple.