Tradhusband By Natty Soltesz
I knew my husband came from a conservative background, so it wasn't entirely a surprise when, before I took his hand in marriage, he said he'd expect me to do the cooking and cleaning. But then he said I would need to quit my job.
It was important for him to be the provider, he said. We each had a role in the marriage, and if it was going to work out, I had to understand that he was in charge. The man of the house.
"But we're both men," I said, and he gave me this look that made me blush. We both knew our roles in the bedroom. And, honestly, hearing him say it- that I would devote my life to him, and follow his rules - made my heart flutter and my hole twitch.
So I did it: quit the career I'd happily pursued for the last six years. The wedding ceremony was beautiful. Most of Greg's relatives came, some more enthusiastic than others to witness our union.
That first night - our honeymoon - being in Greg's arms felt different. The way he held me was firmer - like he owned me, now. I liked how that felt.
Today it's our first-year anniversary, and I'm in the kitchen preparing Greg's favorite meal. I'm naked but for my apron. One thing I hadn't realized before we got married was how much my husband would expect of me sexually. I'd always gravitated toward the submissive role, but my marriage changed me in ways I never expected.
Greg sighs when he opens the front door. I put my oven mitts on the counter and come out to greet him. He looks hungry.
"Hi, babe," I say. Greg doesn't smile. I give him a peck on the lips. He hesitates, then wraps his arm around my waist and, in one fast motion, pulls me into him and shoves his tongue in my mouth. I moan and his hand goes lower, to cup my bare ass which is draped with my apron strings. He pushes his finger into the crevice of my ass, finding my hole which I've of course prepared for him. Greg always expects me to be ready.
"Oh!" I moan. Greg pushes a second finger inside before he releases me. He's still not smiling.
I smooth out my apron but it's not hiding my erection. "Rough day?" I say, and Greg ignores the question as he sets down his briefcase and loosens his tie. "Dinner's almost ready," I say as Greg sits on his favorite chair. I kneel before him. He sighs as I remove his shoes from his tired feet. "Want a beer?"
Greg grunts. My hard-on bounces as I head to the kitchen. I can feel my husband's eyes on my ass and get a twinge of fear. Greg can be rough when he's had a hard day. The thought makes my cock leak against my apron.
When I come back to the living room Greg has his pants down around his thick, hairy thighs and his big cock is throbbing in his lap. I take in my breath and hand him his beer. He looks at it, then shoves it back toward me. "Sorry, babe," I say, and pull the tab on the can before handing it back.
I get on my knees again. Greg likes me to start on his balls. They're musky and sweaty. I take in the smell of them as I suck them into my mouth. My husband's beautiful rod rests against my face as I clean off his big, round baby-makers. With another grunt, I know he's ready for me to take his cock into my mouth. I wrap my lips around my husband's perfect penis and begin to take it down my throat. Greg doesn't like to be teased - he wants a traditional blowjob, mouth only, no stroking. I dutifully suck my husband's cock just like he enjoys, taking it deep and being careful about my teeth. My apron has risen and I know it will please him to see my spread-wide ass.
I lose track of time as I suck him and almost miss the ding of the oven timer. Dinner is ready. I stand up and head to the kitchen, looking into the oven with some fear that I may have burnt the potatoes, but all seems well. Which is good because, if I had burned dinner, Greg would surely punish me for it.
I put the meal I've lovingly prepared on the table. Greg has taken his place at the head of the table and, though I can't see it, I'm sure his cock is still hard and throbbing. I make sure that he has everything he needs before I remove my apron and sit down to eat. But I only get in a few bites before Greg glares at me and pushes back from the table to reveal his still-exposed hard-on.
I put down my fork and knife and crawl under the table. As Greg cuts into his steak I continue to suck his cock. Slow and steady, taking my time as he eats. Yes, I'm hungry, but somehow that hunger is sated by my husband's powerful cock. So I stay under the table as Greg finishes his meal, sucking him deeply and working hard to please him. When he takes his last bite of steak, he holds my head down on his cock. It chokes me as he cums, and he holds fast to my head so I can't move. I swallow every drop. Greg makes sure that I do.
My dinner is cold but I'm no longer hungry, so I clean up and put away the leftovers as Greg watches the news and has another beer.
I'm elbow-deep in dishwater when my husband comes up behind me. Yes, I think, it must have been a hard day for him, because he's already hard again, and I feel him press it against my ass.
He slides his hand up to feel my body. Greg likes me to be fit, but not too muscular - lithe. I'm expected to keep my ass as tight, round, and ready for him as possible. My husband regularly inspects my body from stem to stern to make sure I'm keeping myself up to his standards.
Greg wets a finger in his mouth and shoves it inside of me. I try to stifle my gasp. He spits in his palm and applies that to his cock. I brace myself against the sink as Greg rears up behind me and pushes himself inside of me - all the way to the hilt in one, intense thrust.
I try not to make any sounds - Greg likes for me to stay silent. I continue my chore, washing more dishes as Greg takes me from behind. My cock is leaking against our newly-refinished cabinet doors as Greg grabs my hips and begins to pound into me with purpose.
I can feel his excitement increasing. He's surely looking at the way his big cock splits my hole open. It's his hole, to use when and wherever he wants. I scrub pans as he slaps my ass, groaning as he fucks harder. He wraps his hands around my neck, his grip tightening as he closes in on his climax. My breath begins to constrict and it's all I can do to continue washing dishes as Greg slams deep into me, holding steady as his cock swells and deposits his seed.
He pulls out and walks away, up to his study where he will remain until bedtime. My hands are still in the dishwater. I'm tired from a long day of housework, and for a moment I feel outside of myself. I have a memory that pops up from time to time, just of a successful presentation I gave, with a former colleague and friend. I remember the way I felt, then; before I became Greg's husband. But the harder I try to hold that image of myself the further it recedes, and then I wonder why I was trying to hold onto it in the first place.
Pt 2
It's Sunday morning and my husband and I are at church. I look around at the other parishioners - mostly straight couples, some of whom glare at Greg and I. There are enough tolerant folks here to keep us coming back, and at any rate our relationship with God is the most important thing. At least, that's what my husband says.
Greg glances at me and I snap my attention back to the pastor, who is sermonizing about the importance of giving back to God just a fraction of what He gives to us. Greg grabs my thigh and squeezes, hard. When we're out in public I know not to let my attention wander, especially not toward other men. Greg feels strongly about that.
So I hone in on Pastor Carl, who is young and handsome and speaks with conviction about his love for Christ. When the sermon is over the parish rock band tears into a soaring anthem that gets us all swaying on our feet. Greg puts his arm around me and pulls me into him. I feel him slide his hand down the back of my pants and, quickly, his fingers dip into the crevice of my ass. I'm bare under my pants, per Greg's stipulations, and my hole is clean and smooth. Greg pushes his finger into me and I hold my composure. Just as quickly as he's inserted it he takes it out, and I glance around to see if anyone noticed. One person - an older woman named Milly who has never seemed to care for us - frowns at me and shakes her head.
As the congregation files into the lobby Greg takes any opportunity to grab my ass and press himself against me. It makes me nervous, but I am always to bend to his will. Greg has explained to me, time and again, that he is like God to me, in that I am his property, to be used as he wishes.
Even still, I feel flustered by the time we make our way to where Pastor Carl stands, greeting parishioners with his beautiful wife and three children. Pastor Carl shakes Greg's hand with both of his. They are close and regularly spend time together outside of church - doing what I'm not sure, but then it isn't my place to know.
I try not to admire Pastor Carl's strong neck and fit body. He wears sneakers and jeans, and his haircut is hip and modern. Before Greg ushers us away I share a smile with Pastor Carl's wife. There's a connection there, a sense of shared responsibility toward our husbands. I wonder if Pastor Carl is as sexually rampant as Greg.
Back home we barely get in the door before Greg is pulling off my clothes and fucking me over the sofa. He pushes my face into the couch cushion and I feel him filling me up with cum. For a moment I have a vision of Pastor Carl doing the same thing to me, which is startling and scary because I should only be fantasizing about my husband. But I remind myself that our Pastor is a man of God and, therefore, I would do whatever he asked. The thought makes me cum without touching myself, which Greg thankfully doesn't notice. It takes me a good hour to get the stain off the couch and I curse myself for not having more self control.
Later that week Greg informs me we'll be having a guest for dinner. I feel frustrated - I hadn't planned on a guest when preparing dinner, and I'll have to stop back at the store right then if I am to have time to shower and prepare for Greg before he gets home.
But I'm ready by the time Greg comes home with our guest, who I'm somehow not surprised to see is Pastor Carl. As we eat I sense something in the pastor's demeanor. "Such a handsome husband you have, Greg," Pastor Carl says. "And this meal is delicious." I smile and say thank you. Greg just nods.
When we've finished I begin to clean up, as normal, but Greg stops me. As Pastor Carl stands in the doorway, gazing at me, my husband instructs me to go upstairs and prepare myself. And suddenly, I understand.
"But, Greg..." I say, and my husband stops me. He says that the pastor has needs that only I can meet. Needs his wife can't meet. A need to fuck hard, deep, and raw.
I have a moment of panic as I prepare and shower, thinking of the vow I made to God, to be true to my husband, his and his alone. Still, I think, that vow was to honor and obey, and how could anyone deny that that is what I'm doing? A warm numbness flows over me like the water cascading down my fit body. I think of Pastor Carl and what he might do to me, and my cock rises with the shower steam.
My heart is fluttering as I prepare myself in the bedroom, stripping nude and presenting myself on all fours with my ass spread.
"Praise God," Pastor Carl say in his deep voice when he opens the door and sees me. Greg is behind him. "You're a lucky man," Pastor Carl says as I hear him strip off his clothes. When he's nude, he and Greg lay their hands on me and Carl says a prayer, thanking God for that which he is about to receive.
My husband leaves the room. Pastor Carl asks me to look upon him. He's naked and beautiful - all tan skin and gym-built muscle, with tattoos covering his arms and legs. His cock is shaved and hard and hanging heavily from his body. I note that it is slightly larger than my husband's.
He has me look at him for a while, and then presents to me what he calls "the sacrament," holding out his dripping cock for me to take in my mouth. I moan in deep satisfaction as I take it down my throat, eyes watering as I look up at Carl, who gazes down at me. I suck on his balls, full of holly seed. Then Pastor Carl begins to fuck my throat with slow, deep thrusts, murmuring praise for the sweet tightness of my throat and beautiful body.
Then, he roughly puts me back in my place. Spits on my hole, lines his cock up with it and shoves it home. I make a garbled scream and Pastor Carl leans his tight body on top of my back, wrapping his strong hands around my neck as he begins to fuck. "Take the sacrament, do it for God," he says as every inch of his thick, raw dick stretches me out like my husband's never has.
I'd assumed that Carl would just get his needs met: fuck me till he cums then pull out, like my husband does on a daily basis. A rut to meet his needs, to seed and breed so he can clear his mind and focus again on providing for our family. But the Pastor is different. He puts me in different positions - on all fours where he can slap my ass and pull my hair as he fucks, on my back so I can gaze at him, unbroken. He speaks through God as he rails me, explaining that He made our bodies to receive pleasure or, in my case, to give it.
Carl summons my husband into the room an hour later and the two of them fuck me well into the night. They trade off, using both of my holes, and seem to go into an ecstatic state, our minds elevating to some other plane as they fuck me into oblivion.
"Are you ready to receive God?" Pastor Carl asks as he fucks me on my back. My husband straddles my face, stuffing it full of his cock then pulling out to allow me to focus on the Pastor.
"Yes. Praise God!" I say and Pastor Carl holds my ankles as he rams his rod into me and unloads. He pumps his seed deep in me and I feel the glow of it spread through me. Greg goes next, and Pastor Carl holds my head in his lap as Greg rails me more passionately than he ever has. Pastor Carl whispers in my ear, telling me how grateful I should be, that he's chosen me to be a vessel for him, for my husband, for God. My husband cums, then collapses on top of me. Pastor Carl takes Greg's chin in his hand and brings their lips together. I watch them kiss passionately. Greg has never kissed me like that. But the glow I have from our communion is too powerful to ignore, and I weep a little - with gratitude, I'm sure - for the blessings that have been bestowed upon me.
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