Clarissa yields for her husband

Clarissa's face slowly coloured as Edmund rogered her from behind over the copper washbasin. Her cameo pendant swayed back and forth, striking her breast with each thrust. Her red hair, tightly pinned under a black, lace-trimmed fascinator, had no compass to move. With her skirts raised, Edmund's prick slipped into her through the slit in her split drawers. The heat and motion of their coupling wafted the scent of Clarissa's floral perfume into the confined space.

"Ungrateful cow wouldn't give you one last poke, Edmund?" she said. She shut her cool green eyes and sighed. "I suppose you'll be on me every damned day now." Her breathing quickened and deepened.

Edmund smiled as he watched Clarissa's face in the mirror, seeing her expression change from a sneer to a glow. His wife was a cold one to start, sometimes too tight and dry to enter, but her fires were quick to rise once her gate was breached.

"You'll beg for it," Edmund said.

Clarissa stretched her neck and rounded her shoulders. Her tight passage became slick and easy for Edmund's prick. She started rolling her hips and pressing back at him. He followed her movements, changing his rhythm and angle to catch her just so.

"You bastard, you know me too well," Clarissa said. She bit her lip, released it, and pressed her lips tightly together, holding her breath. Her face flushed bright pink. Her knuckles tightened inside her gloves as she clutched the washbasin. The slim lines of her body rippled in a convulsion of pleasure.

Edmund paused, holding still.

"Nooo, you can't stop!" Clarissa said. She rolled her hips, trying to grind back on him.

Edmund withdrew, enjoying the spectacle of his wife trying to catch his prick on her hungry cunt. The lips were parted and swollen bright pink.

"Beg," Edmund said.

"Put your prick in me, Edmund, I beg you," his wife said.

"Can't hear you."

"I BEG YOU," Clarissa said. She turned her face round. She was weeping.

Edmund turned her to face him and lifted her up on the washbasin rim, spreading her legs and entering her again from the front. Her long legs folded behind him.

"Yes, yes, yes," Clarissa said as he started thrusting.

"Play yourself, make yourself spend," Edmund directed.

"It's dirty," Clarissa protested.

Edmund stopped. "Play yourself. I know you do it."

Clarissa whimpered. "Take my glove off," she said. She held up her hand, a soft and supple black kid glove covering it like a second skin.

"No, leave them on," Edmund said. He took her wrist and placed her hand upon her red bush.

"You dirty bastard," Clarissa said.

"Play yourself."

Clarissa's gloved finger strummed her pearl. Her shoulders quaked.

Edmund started thrusting again. Clarissa sighed happily.

"Spend."

Clarissa squeezed her mouth closed as she climaxed between her leather-gloved finger and Edmund's prick. Her body clenched tight. Her heels dug in, pulling him deeper, then kicked out wide as her pleasure soared and her long body arched back.

Edmund redoubled his thrusts, grinning to see his wife in such a lather. Her face glistened with a sheen of fuck-sweat, and her skin was flushed bright pink, far from its studied creamy paleness.

Clarissa rose to another peak, clenching his prick. Edmund was slower to follow after having spent in Lucy minutes ago. He kept up his thrusts, rewarding Clarissa with another climactic spasm. Tears and sweat mingled on her face, and a thread of drool escaped the corner of her mouth. Edmund grinned. That was the Clarissa he'd married, abandoned and wanton, never admitting her lusts, but easily, so easily provoked. As her body relaxed from its climactic tension, a loud pop-pop! of wind escaped her bum and tickled his balls. His prick twitched and swelled in his wife's hot channel.

Time. Edmund thrust hard, seeking his release in her, quickly found with her womb so slick, wet, clenching and alive on him. His cannon fired at her inner gate. Perhaps Sabrina would have a brother, a sister, more of their lusty brood.