I walked in the door from work, and as soon as I saw her, I knew I was getting the Bitch. But I had no way to know if it was the Good Bitch or the Bad Bitch.
When I walked in, there she was, my wife, the Bitch. She was standing in the dining room, beside the table, with a long black dress and her signature red stilettos. Her dark, curly hair was resting on her shoulders, and in stark contrast to her personality, her pure and innocent beauty was shining through.
Even in the dress, it was obvious her body was toned and strong. Her feminine body was taut and cat-like and covered with smooth, golden-brown skin.
There on the dining room table, was my dinner. A huge porterhouse steak; rare, with red juices covering the plate. There were no sides, but a large glass of Merlot sat beside the plate.
"I made you dinner," she said. "Come and enjoy the juicy goodness I prepared just for you, my husband."
So far, it was the Good Bitch. I placed my bag on the floor and sat at the table. I knew not to greet her or speak until I had a better understanding of how this scenario was going to progress, but I had already made my first mistake. I picked up the fork and knife. As soon as I did, I received a fast, hard, and painful slap across the face.
"Go shower and wash! You know not to come to my fucking table with your nasty dirty ass!" she yelled.
I was seeing stars. My eyes were watering, and my cheek was burning from the impact, but I knew not to dawdle. I quickly rose, and without saying a word went to shower.
When I returned to the table she was standing in the exact same spot. I sat down to eat again, but this time I was greeted with a backhand across my face that I knew was going to leave a bruise.
"Now the fucking dinner is cold! You ruined it," she cried, "eat your fucking food before I get angry! I slaved over a stove for your pussy ass, so you better enjoy it."
Tears ran down her face and she sobbed as she feigned hurt. Again, I remained silent and turned my attention to the steak.
As I started to eat, my wife climbed up on the dining room table. She sat in the center with her legs open, and her red heels resting on both sides of my plate. With the cold food now forgotten, she proceeded to tell me about her day as she pulled her dress up and casually started fingering her pussy and clit. Periodically, she would pause in her conversation, take her fingers, reach forward, and rub her juices on my cheek and lips.
As I sat and listened silently, I grabbed the glass to take a sip of wine. I never saw the kick coming. The bottom of her right heel impacted my chest. I lost my breath as I felt the air rush from my lungs and the bottom of her stiletto dig painfully into my chest.
"I said I made you dinner," she said as she glared at me, "I did not say I poured you any fucking wine!"
She snatched the glass from me and proceeded to drown the entire large glass. Red wine ran down the sides of her mouth, down her chin and onto her soft breasts. After downing the glass, she smiled, relaxed, and resumed telling me about her day. She did not even bother to wipe the wine from her mouth or her breast.
As she got back into the story of her day, she laid all the way back and placed both of her feet on my shoulders. Placing them behind my neck, she pulled herself up the table until her open legs and exposed pussy were resting just beyond my plate. She continued to slowly play with her wet pussy but decided to start wiping her juices on the pieces of steak just before I placed them in my mouth.
Without warning, she popped up!
"Dinner is fucking over," she yelled.
She grabbed my plate with the half-eaten meal and poured the juices onto the table. Without missing a beat, I watched as the steak and the plate shattered on the floor as she flung them across the room.
"It's time to make the fucking dessert," she yelled, "stand up and pull down your fucking pants!"
Not wanting to feel another slap, or her stilettos in my chest, I obeyed her command as she flipped around onto her stomach with her head sliding toward me. She slid her body onto the steak juices and put my dick in her mouth. I gasped as she grabbed my ass, pulling me close until her nose was on my stomach, and she was massaging my dick with her tongue. It was fully hard and pressing against the back of her throat. She started to gag but did not stop. I could feel her saliva running down my balls and my thighs, but she still kept my engorged dick deep in her throat. Spit flew from her mouth, splashing onto my groin as her throat fought my dick to get a breath of air.