Isabelle quickly tried to close her legs, but was stopped by a strong hand, which gripped her thighs tightly and parted her l*bia with thick fingers. His caresses were rough, sliding up and down her p*ssy, and there was a faint hint of anger in his touch.
It was embarrassing, as she had never been emotionally involved in a s*xual intimacy before, but nonetheless, her body began to dampen. Her body had been trained for three years, and he knew better than anyone about her sensitive spots. Her fair face blushed like a ripe apple.
“Uh, wait, just a moment…”
Even though Isabelle pleaded, he didn’t stop his movements. His thick fingers penetrated through her narrow opening. As Richt curled his fingers and gently scratched the inside, her v*ginal walls involuntarily tightened.
The more she clenched and her insides became slippery, the faster his strokes were. There was not only w*tness but also the sound of excitement as her ar*usal flowed freely. It was shameful to be getting excited by her husband’s touch after boldly demanding a divorce. She felt utterly ashamed.
“Your body reacts differently from what you say.”
Richt, looking intently between her soaked legs, sneered.
“To see you squirming like this at the hands of a man you’ve grown tired of.”
“P-Please don’t say things like that.”
“Or maybe you just get excited by any man’s touch? Like a lustful woman.”
Isabelle was shocked as if she’d been doused in cold water. Surely, she heard him wrong. To casually utter such vulgar words. Isabelle went white and stiffened, unable to move.
“W-What are you saying? That’s not like you.”
Richt lifted the hand that had been exploring her lower parts and showed it to her. The transparent l*quid of ar*usal stretched between his fingers.
Her face turned bright red. It still didn’t register to her that they were doing this out in the open, not in their bedroom, and she still couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth.
Richt flipped her dress all the way up, pulling the fabric that covered her p*ssy down. Then he spread her legs on either side of the chair. A cool breeze brushed against her wide-open lower body.
“Just stay still like this.”
“I don’t want to!”
When she tried to close her legs and pull down her skirt, Richt slapped her white thigh. Isabelle let out a convulsive moan.
His voice was frighteningly cold.
“If you don’t like being spanked like this, be honest with me, Isabelle.”
Richt positioned himself on one knee in front of her, and buried his face directly in her most intimate parts. As he swept between the parted gap with his tongue, her body shuddered.
“Ugh, no, please.”
Her moan turned him on even more, and this time he sucked on her l*bia like he was going to eat them. Her delicate flesh quivered inside the man’s mouth. She pushed his shoulder to make him stop, but Richt didn’t back off. Her feeble gestures were meaningless in front of his powerful body.
As Richt swirled his tongue around her reddened cl*t, all her senses centered on it, and heat rushed through her. Her heartbeat raced, and her body twisted. Her juices trickled from her c*nt as a vague sense of pl*asure washed over her.
Richt pushed his fingers into her c*nt. The w*tness of her juices made it easier to enter. Isabelle let out a screaming moan.
“Haah, hng, please.”
The simultaneous assault on her cl*t and v*gina made her lower body go limp and her breathing ragged. Isabelle’s soft pelvis jerked in response to the teasing of the tongue and the precise thrusts of his fingers.
The erotic gesture just fueled Richt’s desire. His excellent control, alternating between gentle strokes and vigorous sucking, gradually distanced her from rational thought.
“Hmph, hah, hah.”
Richt added another finger inside her without warning, her tight confines filling up. His strokes were relentless, targeting two points as he tried to reach far inside.
Her sensitive insides contracted with excitement, releasing more of her ar*usal fl*ids. Not only her perineum but also her a$s became damp. Richt’s hands and mouth were covered in in her clear juice.
His skillful touch, stimulating the right spots, relentlessly drove Isabelle to new heights. The slippery, hot, tingling sensations overwhelmed her. Even though it wasn’t her first time experiencing such feelings, she trembled as if it were.
Not long after, Isabelle convulsively moaned, bucking her hips and letting out a new cry. Her lower body shook with pl*asure. Forgetting her shame, Isabelle bucked her hips in the air and tightly clenching around Richt’s fingers. She was in her cl*max.
Richt, confirming her cl*max, finally withdrew his lips and hand. Isabelle’s ribcage heaved and she drew in a ragged breath. The pl*asure of her cl*max was unrelenting.
“Why did I think of you as a chaste wife all this time? I never knew for these three years.”
“You look fascinating, spreading your legs wide and feeling like this.”
“You look like a bitch in heat.”
Isabelle’s flushed face turned into a horrified expression. Such vulgar words didn’t suit his clean and elegant face. The disparity was so confusing that she couldn’t think of anything to say in response.
She had never seen this side of him during their married life. The considerate, polite man who had been so considerate of his wife was nowhere to be seen. It’s as if he’s been wearing a mask all that time. Richt had completely changed into a stranger.
He then promptly undid his belt buckle. Isabelle was suddenly afraid of what was to come. Tears fell from her large eyes. She looked up with watery eyes, but her husband’s face remained cold and merciless.
“You shouldn’t be crying already. We haven’t even started yet.”
Richt inserted his arm between her legs and lifted her up, lowering her onto his erect p*nis.
The massive and menacing organ slammed into her v*gina in one swift thrust. He bucked his hips up. As he mercilessly entered, a shrieking moan escaped her when he pierced deep inside.
Richt’s c*ck was huge, almost as big as Isabelle’s forearm. It felt like a weapon.
Isabelle had a hard time taking him in, and Richt knew that, so they’d always made love with him halfway in. But this time was different: He pushed his c*ck all the way in, and as if that wasn’t enough, he vigorously thrust his hips.
He gripped her a$s, squeezing them tightly, and repeatedly went in and out of her, the lining of her v*gina pushing in and out in time with his movements.
“Haang, ha, ha, stop…….”
Isabelle pleaded, twisting her body. Her p*ssy was stretched so tight she thought it might tear. The pressure in her tautly swollen lower belly was overwhelming.
“You want a divorce when you’re feeling like this?”
Puck, puck, the sound of flesh against flesh echoed in the ears. Isabelle, hanging on to Richt’s neck, had no choice but to take his thrusts as they came. His gl*ns penetrated deeply, pounding against her womb. The thrusts were so unrelenting that she felt like she was becoming tattered underneath.
“Hmph, stop, please…….”
“I don’t think that’s what you’re supposed to say when your body keeps asking.”
“Hmph, don’t say that, hmph, don’t say that.”
“You’re going to be sore until you say it right.”
“Tell me honestly. You felt lonely because I didn’t satisfy you. That’s why you’re throwing a tantrum.”
Her husband was so different from his usual self. Every word he uttered was obsc*ne and unkind, as if he had set out to humiliate her.