Revenge tastes best served raw

I still remember that night like it was yesterday the way the air in our shitty little apartment turned thick with sweat and fury. We were young, stupid, and tied together by a baby we’d made at 18, back when love felt like forever and forever felt like a trap.

I’d been fucking around at uni, some freshman with a tight skirt and a mouth that didn’t ask questions. My wife (mi mujer) found out. Not through tears or screaming, but silence. A week of ice in her eyes, until she snapped.

That night, I came home late, smelling of cheap perfume and guilt. She was waiting on the couch, legs crossed, face unreadable. No yelling. Just two words: “Pants. Off.”

I laughed, thinking it was a joke. Then she stood up, and I saw the fire in her. The kind that burns slow and mean. I unbuckled my jeans, my cock already half-hard from fear or anticipation coño, who knows.

She dropped to her knees, yanking my boxers down, and took me into her mouth like she was starving. No warm-up, no teasing. Just pure, angry suction, her tongue punishing the underside of my dick. I groaned, grabbing the back of the couch to steady myself. “Mierda, así…”

But then she did something I never saw coming.

Her hand slid back, nails digging into my thigh, and suddenly her tongue was on my ass, licking rough circles around my hole. I jerked like I’d been shocked. “Qué coño—?!”

She spat, shoved two fingers into my mouth to wet them, then pushed them inside me without warning. I hissed, my cock twitching like a live wire. It hurt—fuck, it hurt—but the shame of how much I loved it was worse.

“You like that?” she muttered against my skin, her voice dark. “You like when I fuck you like you fucked her?”

I couldn’t answer. Her fingers curled, and my knees almost gave out.

Then she was up, hiking her skirt, straddling me in one sharp motion. No foreplay for her she didn’t even take off her shirt. Just guided my dick into her with a snarl, so wet I could hear it. “This is what you wanted, right?” she panted, riding me hard, her nails in my shoulders. “Just a hole to use?”

I came in minutes. Pathetic. She didn’t even let me touch her. Just climbed off, wiped herself with my discarded shirt, and walked away.

And the worst part?

I was already hard again by the time the bathroom door locked.