He takes her right there

One hand locks on her hip. The other leaves her clit. He notches the head against her soaked entrance, feels how open the orgasm left her, and slams in. One stroke. All of it. The thickness forces her cunt wide and knocks her flat against the counter, tits pressed to the cold surface, a broken sound punched out of her.

Lana cums on the penetration alone.

No warning. The sudden stuffing, the stretch, the way he hits the end of her, and she shatters. A cry that turns into something close to a sob. Her cunt clamps and flutters and gushes around him, soaking his balls, her knees buckling. Pleasure rolls her under. She grabs the edge of the counter and shakes, moaning like it hurts, like she needs more of the hurt.

“Fuck. Fuck. You slammed in and I came. I didn’t even— fuck. Oh my God. You’re so deep. I can feel you in my stomach. Stay. Don’t move. I can’t. I’m still cumming. You’re splitting me.”

He stays. Buried to the root. Letting her pulse and leak on him. His mouth is at her ear, breath hot, cock throbbing inside the mess she just made.

“Good girl. Came just from taking the cock. That’s the rule. I wanted this cunt. I took it. Feel me. Balls deep. You’re dripping down my sack already. Naughty wife. Recited every rule and creamed the second I put it in.”

He starts to thrust. Slow at first. Long, mean strokes. Out until the head tugs her open and she whimpers at the emptiness, back in until his hips slap her ass and the wet sound fills the kitchen.

Squelch. Slap. Her cum and his precum stringing between them. He moans into her ear, filthy, low, possessive.

“This hole is mine this morning. Tight even after you came. Soaked. Listen to it. Your cunt is talking. Squelching on my cock. I’m going to fuck you over this counter until you can’t hold yourself up. Until you’re crying on it. Free use. You said the words. Now you take my cock.”

Lana pushes back onto him, voice shredded, returning every bit of it.

“Yes. Use me. Fuck your wife’s cunt. Harder. I can feel every inch. You’re so thick. My pussy is drooling on your balls. Don’t pull out. Pound me. Take the hole. Ruin it. Fuck me.”

He gives it to her harder. The counter edge digs into her hips. His balls slap her clit with every thrust. One hand comes up to her throat, not choking, just holding, keeping her arched.

She is a mess. Moaning. Almost crying from how good it is, the aftershocks of the first orgasm riding under the second that is already climbing. Wetness runs down her thighs. The sound is obscene.

“There,” he growls. “Cry on it. I want the tears. You’re stuffed. You’re mine to use whenever I want. Every thrust you’re tighter. Look at you bent over the kitchen like a fucktoy who knows the rules. Cum again. Soak me. Naughty girl. Taking her husband’s cock before breakfast. Cream on it. I want you gushing.”

“I’m your slut,” she sobs, pleasure-drunk. “Your wife. Your free-use cunt. Fuck me. Deeper. I’m gonna cum. Don’t stop. Please. Fill me. I want your load deep. I want to cook with your cum leaking out of me. I want it running down my leg while I hold the pan. Harder. Use this pussy. It’s yours.”

She cums again. Loud. A real sob of pleasure this time. Cunt milking him in hard pulses, thighs shaking, a fresh gush around his shaft that splatters the cabinet and runs down to her ankles. She cries through it, thanking him, cursing, pushing back so he stays deep. He fucks her through every flutter, groaning, pace turning ragged and animal.

“I’m gonna finish inside you,” he says, voice breaking. “Right here. Pump this naughty cunt full. Hold the counter. Take the load like a good wife. Like a good slut. Here it comes.”

He slams in and stays. Cums hard. Hot, thick pulses flooding her, hips jerking, a rough moan against her neck as he empties everything he has. She feels each twitch. She moans at the warmth spreading. He stays buried for long seconds, cock twitching, her cunt still fluttering around the creampie, both of them breathing like they ran.

Then he pulls out.

The sound is wet and filthy. Cum follows immediately, thick white strands dripping out of her gaping hole, down her thigh, onto the kitchen floor between her feet. Her cunt stays open, winking, leaking more every time she clenches.

Lana turns on shaking legs. She drops to her knees on the tile, right in the mess, and cleans his cock with her mouth. Licks the shaft from base to tip. Sucks the head. Swallows the mix of her squirt and his load until he is only spit-shiny and sensitive. She looks up when she is done, face wrecked, mascara-free and smiling, a string of spit on her chin.

Adam’s hand touches her hair once. Gentle after all of that.

“This was for our needs,” he says.

He leaves her there. She stays on her knees a second longer, cum still dripping from her cunt onto the floor, a smile on her face, then stands, thighs sticky, and reaches for the pan like a wife who just got used exactly the way the rule promised.