Apparently so.

Another reason why you didn't mention this in your rant is because you're really not a fan of anal sex. You only let it happen because you love Josh, and sometimes want to show a little extra appreciation for everything he does for you and the kids. Marriage is give and take, after all, and while you don't believe you could ever break even in that regard, you do feel closer whenever you take it up the ass. There was an ulterior motive, which was to encourage more sexual variation, but you have long since given up on that.

You've always considered it something of an unwritten rule that only you get to decide when he can go there. You thought he did, too. He's never asked for it, and this is the first time he's ever just went for it without your explicit permission, but you couldn't very well deny him anything while dressed like it's a special occasion, especially after he gave you an orgasm. You wanted variation, right? Well, here it is. It might not be the kind you were looking for, but beggars can't be choosers and, the truth is, you want him to do it.

Maybe "want" isn't the right word. Right now, you need him to do it. You need him to punish you for what you just did to him with Rick, in your head. It doesn't matter that he'll never know. That only makes you feel more ashamed. You shouldn't be allowed to get away with it, but you can't confess. That would be selfish and cruel. You can, however, confess your general disgracefulness, by exposing it and allowing Josh to use you like a cheap whore.

No, you don't want this, but that's exactly why you need it. You need more shame. New shame that you can openly wallow in and thus earn the right to purge yourself of the rest. It's like you said. You either feel guilt or you don't and, if you do, you have to deal with it. You're going to deal with yours the hard way, by taking his cock in that unholiest of holes, as penance for your sins.

You feel Josh pull the string out of your crack and stretch it far enough over your left ass cheek to hold, then he spreads both cheeks slightly apart with a thumb and forefinger, and inserts the conical nozzle of the bottle into your rectum. The lube feels unpleasantly cool, and you wince as it floods your anal cavity. It's a sensation that never fails to nauseate, no matter how many times you've experienced it, but it's a walk in the park compared to what follows.

Josh straddles your hips from behind as he takes them in his hands, then presses the head of his cock against your anus. Slowly, he begins to bore his way in, giving you just an inch or two before pulling back, but then going deeper with every subsequent push. Each one hurts, but they all hurt the same to you. Each loosens you up a little more, and so each feels similar to the last. Three inches feels like two did, and four like three, until he's nearly balls deep in you.

"Josh," you say softly as you ball your fists around handfuls of the bed sheet. If you were going to say something else, you never spit it out. Your stretched-out sphincter is throbbing sharply, and the inside of your ass burns. Josh is beginning to pick up speed.

"Oh, God," you groan through clenched teeth. "Fuck. Oh, fuck!"

Those are not utterances of pleasure. No part of this is pleasurable for you. Absent, too, is the sense of pride you feel whenever you're giving yourself to him in this way, because this isn't the usual show of appreciation. You gave no prior consent this time. He just took what he wanted, but you letting him do so was an act of atonement, so you welcome the pain you're feeling and do your best to feel degraded. You wish he would help you out with that, and call you a slut or a bitch, or a cunt. Something. All you is hear is the rhythmic clapping of skin against skin, and the sucking and squelching sounds of his dick plumbing the depths of your ass. He doesn't even say a word when he cums. He just grunts a few times and then leaves you there covered in motor oil and sweat, with your busted down back door leaking a cocktail of lubricant and semen down the insides of your thighs.

You need a shower, but Josh beat you to it. You can hear him whistling a tune in there over the unremitting hiss of the water. You have no desire to join him, though. You need privacy so that you can sit on the toilet for a while and unpack everything that just happened, both here and inside that fucked up head of yours! Also, you'll probably want to sit in the shower and cry. You wouldn't mind just lying here and letting your body recover while you wait your turn, but there's no time for that. Your other three children will be home any minute, and you can't risk one or all of them walking in on you in this condition and state of dress. You have **** but to join Josh, so you pick yourself up and walk bowlegged to the bathroom. You can wait on the toilet if you want to shower alone.