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Going Straight. The harder I cum- the less I fall.

Maybe this was just the end of my life, I'd thought as I came home from work to see that my newly wed husband had prepared us a romantic candlelit dinner. I smiled ‘delighted' that he'd gone to such efforts as pandering to my vegetarian sensibilities by preparing a tofu, nut and Mediterranean vegetable roast and splashing out a fiver of his sparse wage on a half decent bottle of red! But the contempt I had initially felt left me as he passed me a pure skunk joint and images of him in a quilted smoking jacket, pipe and slippers faded my fearful mind, but I still would rather he'd torn my work clothes off, sucked me off over the dinner table, then bent me over it to fuck me afterwards. ‘Oh well', I'd thought, ‘You can't have everything' But I was very wrong about that, as my story will show. I had been Mrs Mandy Donovan for only 6 days and Carlos had decided that we should mark ‘our first married weekend' as a special occasion, but I just felt really bad that his optimism about our betrothal served only to depress me more than ever. He'd arranged for my mother to have Carlos Jr for the night and had promised me a big surprise when I got home. Unfortunately, I wasn't surprised in the slightest and I fought the feeling of bored discontent that made me want to be obtrusive and argumentative in response to yet another of his gestures of love and commitment. I guess he's just... well, ‘too' loving! I mean- he won't let me do a thing for myself and he's so afraid of my independence meaning that I don't love him, rather than it really meaning I won't be reliant on anyone at the expense of ...

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