This is short story of a neglected wife and abusive husband. It has themes of non consent, drugs, interracial sex, cum eating, big cocks and eventual cuckolding, so please don't read if those subjects offend you. It is pure fantasy. It isn't real and it isn't meant to be real.
Claire sat at her dressing table applying the finishing touches to her makeup. She and her husband, Johnathan, were celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary that evening with a meal at their favourite Indian restaurant. It didn't feel special. They ate there at least once a month, but that was Johnathan all over. No romance and no fucking imagination. Even the card he'd given her that morning was uninspired. He probably got it on his way home from the local supermarket. No flowers. No gift. Not even a kiss on the cheek when he left for the office. He hadn't even read the words in the card she'd given him, just a cursory glance before placing it in the mantelpiece.
After 25 years, Claire felt unloved, unattractive and taken for granted. At 50 years old she still had a body she felt proud of. Having had no children, her breasts showed only a little sag, especially given they were a healthy E cup. Yes, she was curvy and at 5'4" tall, those curves were accentuated, but she went to the gym twice a week in an effort to keep her fluctuating weight in check. She volunteered at one of the charity shops in town 3 days a week and was a respected member of the local branch of the Women's Institute. Their home was immaculately maintained, as was their garden and there was always a home cooked meal waiting for her husband when he returned home from the office. Claire was indeed, the perfect housewife.
Johnathan had always been a good provider. She'd never had to work, they had a beautiful home, designer clothes and holidays abroad twice a year. All in all Claire couldn't really complain.
To everyone who knew them, Johnathan was the ideal husband. He was polite, friendly, well spoken and considerate. He never used bad language and was a well respected member of the community. He was a successful lawyer and clients sought him out. He was always immaculately dressed, professional and outwardly confident. He was slim, some would say slight in build, 5'8" tall, clean shaven with a full head of dark, but graying hair. Johnathan was indeed, the perfect husband.
The reality was very different.
Johnathan was a control freak. He micromanaged Claire in just about every way possible and would become abusive if she failed him in any way. If a meal was late or not to his taste, he would shout abuse at her, telling her she was a useless fucking cunt, slap her or even grab her hair and forcefully rub her face in the food she'd spent preparing for him. If she dressed in any way that could be classed as sexy, he would call her a whore or tell her she looked like a cheap fucking tramp. She lived in constant fear of upsetting him.
Their marriage was a fake show of bliss to anyone looking from the outside in. Their sex life was non existent and had been for the last 15 years. Even at the beginning it had been erratic. Johnathan would occasionally fuck her on a Saturday night when they went to bed. There was never any foreplay or romance other than a few wet kisses, before lifting her nightdress up, getting on top of her and fucking her. A few short thrusts of his thin 4" cock later he would shoot his pathetic watery cum in her, roll off and fall asleep.
It was all Claire knew. He was her first and only lover. She had never experienced an orgasm or even masturbated. Sex for Claire was nothing more than an obligation and she got no joy from it whatsoever. That was until she went through early menopause.
Unlike many women, the menopause and HRT caused her libido to increase dramatically. Her frustrations became ever more in need of satiating and quite by accident, one rainy afternoon whilst surfing the internet, Claire came upon an erotic storytelling website called Literotica. It changed her life.
That was 5 years ago and now Claire masturbated regularly as she read the stories on her laptop screen. She was amazed that there was such variety, freedom of thought and expression to be experienced. She would frig her tight, unused, wet twat mercilessly whilst skipping from one story to the next. Often she shocked herself with a topic that until then, she didn't even know existed, yet caused her cunt to quiver with excitement. Incest, interracial, gangbangs, bukkake, lesbian, exhibitionism and even the fetish and BDSM categories sparked her imagination. It would be fair to say, her afternoons with Literotica became an escape from her ordinary life and her controlling husband. She even started to shave her pussy, her sensations heightened by the lack of hair. Not that Johnathan knew. The last time he'd seen her naked was so long ago she'd forgotten.
Like most people who suddenly discover pornography, Claire found subject matter that she naturally gravitated to. Namely interracial, cumeating and bukkake. She didn't really understand why, just that her pussy got wet when she read stories based around those subjects. Johnathan, amongst his other personality flaws, was a closet racist. Surprising given how much he loved Indian food. Perhaps that's exactly the reason Claire found the idea of black or Asian cock so exciting. A backlash to him maybe. A sort of "fuck you" Johnathan.
It helped that the waiter at the Indian restaurant was such a handsome young man. It felt more tangible to her and he often came to her thoughts as she rammed a finger into her tight wet snatch. Over the last year they had become much loved customers and Mohammad, the young waiter, always made them feel especially welcome. He knew their names, was always so polite and nothing was too much trouble. Even if they were late getting there, Mohammad always found them a table and would happily continue serving them after the doors had been locked to other customers. On top of that, he made Claire feel attractive. Not by anything he said really, but just the way he looked at her and the way he spoke to her. He made her feel special.
There was nothing that Johnathan could complain about when she finished getting ready. Her makeup was immaculate but understated. Her blonde hair styled conservatively in a bun and her wraparound Laura Ashley floral print dress reached to mid calf. Even her shoes were flat. No, Johnathan wouldn't be upset by the way she presented herself that night.
The taxi arrived late which riled Johnathan, making Claire smile inwardly, but it wasn't a good start for their celebratory evening out. She hoped his mood would lighten. They went to a few bars and both got a little tipsy, not too much though, Johnathan would never have allowed that. They met a few friends and despite his usual attitude to timekeeping, they were late when they left for the restaurant. Very late.
Despite the name, the Taj Mahal was owned by Mr Akhtar, a Pakistani man who had immigrated to the UK in his early 20's. He'd worked hard to earn enough to secure the restaurant. He was the main chef and over the years, the restaurant had built an excellent reputation for its food, even winning a few awards. He was happy that his sons had chosen to join the family business when they got older. Imran, his oldest worked in the kitchen with him and Mohammad worked front of house along with a couple of part time staff. Mr Akhtar was extremely proud of his sons.
When Jonathan and Claire arrived, Mohammad greeted them both warmly and even though the restaurant was due close in 15 minutes, he took them to a table and offered drinks before leaving them with a menu.
Mohammad liked Claire very much. At 19 years of age, he regularly fantasised about older women and was no stranger to sex. The family business meant they were pretty well off financially and that, along with his flash clothes, nice car and a fat 10" cock, meant he was rarely short of pussy. In fact, his brother and father were blessed with large cocks too, but Mohammad was biggest. Claire was the archetypal MILF to him. Mature, attractive, posh and blonde with tits he dreamed of handling. Her nipples were permanently hard whenever she and her husband ate there and tonight was no different.
Her husband on the other hand was a fucking twat. He didn't like him at all and neither did his father or brother. They didn't like the way he spoke to them or the way he treated Claire. He was arrogant and dismissive, but they were good customers and alway tipped well. Besides, they all got to ogle Claire's tits, so that was always a bonus.
After serving their drinks and escorting the last customer out, Mohammad locked the doors and went to the kitchen.
"The Drakes are here," he announced.
Mr Akhtar and Imran rolled their eyes in disappointment, it wouldn't be an early finish after all.
Mohammad tried to inject a little enthusiasm. "You should see what she's wearing," he grinned, "Fucking tits look well good and her nips look like fucking hat pegs."
