Turn her over and fuck Vivien from behind

Something inside you, a little voice in your head that you'd never heard before, urged you on - as if the voice of the house itself began to mutter and compel you onwards - and the hunger took over. Your wife's pleasure flickered to surprise for a second as you pulled your sodden cock from her moist entrance and manhandled her over until her belly was flat on the table. Her sundress had fallen down over her ample arse again, and you rolled it up. Pulling her lacy knickers to the side once again, you lined your cock up with her pussy, and she looked back over her shoulder at you, sultrily.

You drilled it forward and she half-groaned and half-sighed as you propelled her forward viciously into the table, your thrust hard enough to bruise again the wooden table top.

You picked up a steady rhythm quickly and she bit down on her hand to stop herself from moaning louder.

Your balls slapping against her thighs created a 'thwack' each time your increasingly rapid thrusts hit home, and you could feel your tip hitting the innermost depths of her cunt with each pile-drive.

Her moans of pleasure increased in intensity as your speed picked up, until you were shaking the boxes of unsorted packing, and plates and cutlery within clattered against each other.

You couldn't imagine that Violet, wherever she was in this huge house, would have been able to avoid hearing the sounds of your aggressive fucking.

A little, sinister voice in your head compelled you, and you leaned down as you continued your plundering of her moist hole, and you whispered, insidiously, into her ear.

"You're mine, you whore, and I'm going to fuck you like the little tramp you are."

Vivien, stunned, stopped moaning, and began to push you off her, her hands thrashing about, she began to hiss at you, "get off me you fucker. Ben. I mean it, get off me. This isn't funny. Violet will hear and you're being a complete dick. GET OFF ME!"

Unable to move, your weight kept her pinned against the table, and you placed your palm on the flat of her back, her breasts in her sundress splashed across the table.

Your penetration reached new heights as you picked up speed.

"Please Ben," she moaned, all pleasure gone, "stop this. You're hurting me, and I'm not on birth control. Stop. Stop now."