I lean my shoulder on the doorframe and regard my wife. She’s at the kitchen island, cautiously cutting up something with measured slides of her knife. Despite being busy with domestic chores, she’s wearing another crazy outfit paired with gold faux fur slippers. Her fashion choices are completely ridiculous, but she’s beautiful as hell, even when wearing her absurd getups.
When I came home last night, Sienna was already asleep. As I do every night, I carried her to my bed. I ate her perfect p***y while she was still half-asleep, and then I f****d her. Hard. I held her in my arms all night, but still took her back to her room this morning before heading to work. I don’t know why I keep doing it. I am so f*****g angry, but can’t determine the reason behind my rage. Is it her lies, or that
