Tradhusband

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.

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