Getting What I Needed 1

Just look at her. She doesn't seem to do anything anymore except sit in front of the TV in her sweats and tanktops eating her favorite chips.

It's been months now since my wife and I have had any sort of sexual contact. We will cuddle on the couch while we watch TV sometimes and in bed before we go to sleep, but anytime my hand so much as strays anywhere near her boobs or butt, I get told off. Usually it's because she's "too tired" or "has to get up early in the morning", but we both know they're just excuses at this point.

For the first couple weeks of not having sex I would just get more and more frustrated, and would make my frustration clear to her, but that certainly didn't help to change anything. In fact, it almost seemed as though she took some perverse pleasure from denying me when I was at my horniest. Eventually, this constant denial made me feel shameful whenever I felt like having sex with her, which eventually turned into resentment. I stopped asking to have sex, and instead chose to masturbate anytime I was feeling aroused, almost as if just to spite her. And now, a few months down the road, that resentment has transformed into complete disgust towards her and anything related to sex with her. This process was only exacerbated by her newfound penchant for junk food and infrequent showers.

Honestly, I'm not sure how we got to this point so quickly. We've only been married for 2 years, and were dating for a year and a half before that. We're both still in our twenties, and we both had quite a high sex drive when we first got together. We couldn't keep our hands off each other, and for the first couple of years we'd have sex nearly every day. We shared our kinks with each other, and indulged in them as much as we could, even if the other partner didn't share the same kink. By all measures, we seemed perfectly compatible for long-term partnership, at least as far as sex was concerned.

But a few months after getting married, she lost her dream job, and has been struggling to find a job ever since. Suddenly, any interests she held became non-existent, which included our sex life. And so, what was once a kind, sexy, loving woman was now my overweight, bitter, slovenly wife.

As I sat across the couch from her staring at her lumpy body squeezed into a too-small pink wife-beater tanktop and recently stained gray sweatpants, I truly resented her and what our relationship had become. But, despite this simmering anger, my stare drifted to her breasts, which, like the rest of her body, had also grown a fair amount. They sagged and tugged at the fabric of the tanktop, exposing quite a bit of cleavage from the top, while also spilling out the sides of the garment a bit. She must have been a bit cold as well, because her nipples were clearly poking through the thin texture of the tanktop.

Despite my better judgement, I could feel myself already growing erect. It didn't help that I hadn't masturbated in about a week or so either, as a result of this being my first day off from an especially busy week at work. Just as I was about to head into the other room to load up my favorite porn site and take care of business, I became overwhelmed by a new, strange sensation - somehow the intense resentment and arousal I was experiencing had coalesced into this desperate need to have sex with her. No, not "have" sex "with" her - but "take" sex "from" her. I didn't need to have a mutually enjoyable and romantic experience, I just needed to fuck her body.

Feeling hazy with anticipation, I scooted directly next to her, and stuck my hand down the back of her sweatpants (and to my delight found she wasn't wearing any underwear) and started to massager her buttcheek. She immediately recoiled and asked what I was doing, and I said "I just really need to fuck you right now".

"What? No! Can't you see I'm in the middle of this show?" she responded.

"Whatever, that's fine," I said. "You can keep watching your show, and you don't even have to move. I'll just pull your sweats down a little bit and go. Honestly, it will only take like a minute."

"... I don't want to have to touch your dick or do anything."

"Yeah, sure, that's fine. And I can go grab the lube so we don't have to to any foreplay stuff or whatever."

"... Fine. Grab the lube. But the episode is over in three minutes, and I want you to be done before I move on to the next one."

I didn't even respond, I just got up and ran to the bedroom to grab the lube as fast as I could, while stripping my clothes off along the way. As I returned to the living room, I threw my pants and underwear on the floor, and was about to yank my shirt off when my wife blurted, "No, keep your shirt on. I don't need to see your gross, sweaty beer belly in my peripheral". Her comment hurt me, but the anger from that hurt just further fueled my obsession with fucking her disgusting pussy.

Lube in hand, I deftly mounted the couch next to her, where she had laid down on her side with her legs scrunched up towards her stomach, allowing me just enough room to maneuver myself inside of her. I pulled her sweatpants down to the middle of her thighs, a job made much more difficult by her increased mass and her refusal to shift her body even an inch to aid in the process. With her vagina and ass now exposed, a pungent odor of sweat, fishyness, and a hint of dried shit wafted up to my nostrils, further enhancing my disgust towards her. Her body was a gross mess, and she had totally given up on caring. Somehow, though, this only made me want her pussy more, and I proceeded to lube her up with newfound passion.

The job proved to be more challenging than I had expected, partly because she clearly hadn't shaven or trimmed down there in months, and partly because her thighs now fully engulfed her vulva, making it much harder to find. As I finally navigated a lubed finger into her vaginal opening, I felt her whole body wince, and then she said, "You've already wasted a minute and a half at this point, so you had better hurry up and get it over with. I wasn't kidding about you being done by the time this episode is over."

Not requiring any further encouragement, I quickly yanked my finger out, slathered my painfully-erect dick in copious amounts of lube, and shoved it inside of her. As my cock became fully engulfed by her pussy, I became absolutely consumed by both desire and disgust. I started to pound away at her, remembering just how good it felt to have a warm vagina instead of my hand around my penis. At the same time, the smell only increased along with my movement, until it became almost too much to handle. I gripped her massive thigh firmly with my hand for support as I continued to pump with increasing fervor. Meanwhile, my wife didn't even so much as take her eyes off of the show. Her body remained totally still, almost lifeless, and only shifted as a result of my body slamming against her.

Feeling myself getting close, I moved my hand from her leg towards her tit, which she quickly slapped away before any contact was made. "Don't touch me anymore than you have to," she said. "Just hurry up and get it over with."

Before I could yell at her in frustration from her further denial, I was suddenly wracked with a powerful and immobilizing orgasm. I felt myself spill a seemingly unending load inside of her while the rest of my senses started to black out. I might have fully collapsed in that moment, but was abruptly brought back to my senses by the overwhelming odor emanating from her body. Now that I had satisfied my horniness, I was left only with repulsion, which forced me out of her real quick. Upon removing my member, my semen started to leak from the folds between her legs, causing her to scream at me to grab a towel before I soiled the couch with my cum. I sauntered towards the bathroom closet, not in too much of a hurry to come back to the sight I had just left.

I returned to the living room and handed her the towel, before once again seating myself on the far end of the couch from her. As she hoisted herself up and reached behind her to position the towel between her legs, struggling the whole time, she said, "Wow, the episode isn't even over yet. You really are a horny little pervert, aren't you?"

Too tired to even answer, I just watched as she gave her vulva a few half-hearted swipes before discarding the towel onto the floor and pulling her sweats back up. "You can pick up that towel and toss it into the laundry now," she demanded. "You might as well do the rest of the laundry while you're at it."

The old, familiar feeling of shame wafted over me as I gingerly grabbed the towel and took it into the bathroom to toss it into the hamper with the rest of the clothes. The overpowering smell of the towel came out of the hamper and into my nose, bringing the sense of guilt and disgust to an almost unbearable level. But, much to my surprise, I realized that I had already become fully hard again. Gingerly shutting the door to the bathroom so that she wouldn't hear what I was doing (not that she would notice anyway, as she was far too engrossed in the next episode of her show), I then grabbed the towel from the laundry and sat on the toilet. I started to jerk off furiously while pressing the towel into my face, inhaling deeply the aroma of our recent encounter, until I came into the towel for the second time that evening about 30 seconds later.