His Rose ( Queen of two)

Chapter1

The sound of heavy grunts filled my ears. Willingly lying face down, he tooted up to my husband as he took his pleasure. Consummation between husband and wife should be pleasurable for both, but I've never felt that way. I rolled my head to the other side, trying to focus on the clock beside our bed. I had started counting down the time when we began having s*x. I only had a few more seconds to go before he came. I went to stretch one of my arms because it was beginning to cramp, but he grabbed onto it. As he pulled my arm behind my back, I held back a grimace. Mistaking me for wanting to grab the sheets.

"You feel so good," he moaned while his thrusts began to speed up. I didn't reply, as there would be no point. Although if I did, he wouldn't have cared to hear. I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on my body. Maybe if I focused enough on how my n*****s brushed against the sheets with every sway of my heavy breasts, I'd be turned on. Or perhaps the feeling of my husband's touch on my hips should have been good enough. But for the life of me, no matter how hard I tried, I could not get turned on. There was no fire to our love-making _ just a dullness.

"F- f**k, he stuttered, and his hips lost rhythm as he chased his high. He let go of my arm, choosing instead to grip my hips harshly. Thrusting into me automatically, I could hear his balls slapping against my lower lips. I cried out under his bruising grip and thrusts trying to wiggle away. Stupid mistake seeing as he gripped me harder, to which I had no choice but to take it. My ass jiggled beneath him as he continued his lovemaking. "I'm gonna" his hips stuttered, and I felt him pure something inside me. The feel of his seed inside me caused my c**t to twitch, but then settled to normal. He learned his body over mine, nearly squishing my body into the mattress. He thrusts quite a few more times, making sure he filled me with everything he had.

The room remained silent except for his heavy breathing and the squelching noises of my p***y taking his d**k. After moving inside me a few more times to make sure I took his seed, he started kissing my back. Murmuring intangible words as I continued to breathe slowly. I'm quite ashamed of myself to say that I lead my husband occasionally. I often fake having had an orgasm I haven't felt in what feels like years. So, when it comes to the end of lovemaking, I moan as if I am coming down from my own high. Although his kisses are the sweetest and make me feel warm inside, they don't stir my lady bits.

"Love you," he whispered against my back before he pulled out of me with a "plop" sound. He turned my body around to face him to admire me as I admired him. I watched his very dark forearm reach between us to grab his c**k. He strokes it a few times before taking a few dips in my p***y full of c*m. I glanced at his very dark, full lips before taking my hands to stroke his buzzed hair lovingly. As he lathers his d**k, I stare into his beautiful brown eyes.

"I love you, too ," I told him sincerely because, although the s*x wasn't great. My husband and I are very much in love. He knows I do anything for him. There's a short bit of silence before he sits up, and I have a full eye view of his d**k. Covered in both of our juices, the tip of his c**k glistens in the moonlight. As he lazily strokes himself in one hand, he uses the other to grab my hair full of short, black locks. His grip isn't bruising as he uses my hair to guide my face closer to him. I took a quick glance at the clock before starting the countdown and closing my eyes. Opening my mouth, I take in his length and let my husband use me once more.

The next day

I say goodbye to him inside our home through the window as he leaves for work. He didn't wave back, which I could understand because he was late for work. I kept getting tired of reminding him to have his clothes ready the night before, but he never listened. After seeing him get into his car and drive off, I sighed and went into the kitchen to clean up. I had made breakfast for him this morning as usual, and cleaning up was a chore I couldn't stand.

Every day, I made sure we had breakfast and dinner served to us both. Well, I couldn't eat breakfast, just dinner. I was never able to make lunch because I had clients during noon which sometimes could arrive into the night. However, I always made sure to get home before my husband did. Putting plates in the dishwasher, I wondered what I would do to start my day. I turned on the stove and then sinked, before looking at my hands. Then I decided to leave the kitchen and make my way to the basement.

Our home wasn't extraordinary or anything, since the walls had all been painted white, which my husband requested. There were a few portraits of us two hanging on the wall. A few of them were our wedding photos, collages of us, and my favorite photo of me shoving ice cream up his nose. Thinking back to those moments caused a silly smile to make its way to my face before I began to frown.

Wondering where I went wrong in our marriage and why our relationship is the way it is now. I passed by a few more photos of us lining the halls. One of my husband's graduating from the police academy and one photo of me attaining my counseling license.

We were both so proud of each other. Although our job didn't pay as much as we hoped, we love what we do.

After graduating from college, we saved up enough for the perfect home. A two-story house with two bedrooms and two bathrooms, and my husband wanted the home to be decorated perfectly. Decked in white furniture except for one of the rooms upstairs.

Finally reaching the basement door, I opened it, flicked on the light, and made my way inside. I was instantly hit by the smell of paint supplies, causing me to smile. I walked down the wooden steps to our unfinished basement. It was rough here, full of cobwebs and dry walls that were left unfinished. I decided to pay it no mind as I walked straight ahead towards another door. This door split the basement in half, which I liked. When we originally bought the home, we had planned for one side to be the gym and the other for personal space. The gym side had a lot more room because of the amount of equipment we never got. My husband never got to finish his hand that now sits on cobwebs, however, I took the time to. However.

Opening the next door, I walked into my tiny space filled with so much color. The walls were painted in murals that I did myself, as was the floor. There were two windows lining the walls to let air circulate in the room. I had a few paintings that I had already done sitting on the floor in the far corner of the room. There was an easel on the right with a gray sheet underneath it. I also had a material table right beside the easel to make my painting easier. Lastly, I had a large lamp to shine a light on the easel whenever I needed more light to see.

This room was my happy space, and I came in here nearly every day. Since I was in a short tank top and shorts, I decided not to bother with an apron this time. Taking a blank canvas I had lying around. I placed it on the easel. I then collected the equipment that I needed for painting, including my phone and earpod to play some music. Immediately after, I began to paint.

I was never one to plan out my art. I simply drew or painted whatever I felt. Whether I felt happy, sad, angry, or downright miserable, I painted it all. This time was no different.

Each stroke made emotions pour out of me. I let go of the worries I had on my mind. Thoughts of wondering why I felt so empty when waking up each day. While do I feel down when I eat, sleep and breathe? Why am I not happy when I should be? What did I do wrong? Where did I go wrong? Why did he not feel happy with me? I did whatever he wanted. Whenever he wanted, why was I not enough?!

I ripped the earpods out of my ears, causing the paint to swish on my face. I wiped my cheek, feeling wet, pulling my hand in front of me to see if I got the paint off. Realizing that I hadn't wiped any paint, and that I had wiped my tears instead. Breathing heavily, I folded my arms in on myself and began to sob. While my painting remained filled with dark clouds and lig

hanging above a dimly lit forest.