The next three days passed in a blur of f*****g and lying.
Cane took me whenever he wanted. On the kitchen counter again. Bent over the bathroom sink. On my hands and knees in the hallway because he couldn’t wait long enough to reach a bed. He f****d me slow and deep in the middle of the night when I was half-asleep, whispering filthy things against my ear while he filled me again. He made me keep his c*m inside me for hours. He made me answer my husband’s calls while his fingers were buried in my p***y, forcing me to stay calm and sweet on the phone while I dripped all over his hand.
By the morning of the fourth day I barely recognized myself.
I woke up on my stomach with Cane already inside me, f*****g me in long, lazy strokes like he had all the time in the world. One of his hands pi
