My thick thighs were spread obscenely wide on the luxurious guest bed, my nightdress bunched up around my soft belly as I rubbed my swollen c**t in desperate circles. Two fingers were buried deep inside my dripping cunt, pumping wetly while my husband Seth snored loudly right beside me. The risk of getting caught in his father’s mansion only made me wetter.
I was twenty-four years old. Married at eighteen to Seth, and in six years he had turned me into this — a neglected, horny mess with heavy swinging breasts, wide breeding hips, a plump soft belly, and a fat juicy ass that he now found repulsive.
“f**k… Sinclair… Cane…” I whispered breathlessly, imagining them as I f****d myself. Seth’s father in his early forties — tall, commanding, muscular. And Cane, his older brother, with that god
