The steaks were marinating; she had veggies to cut up. This would be dinner on the grill, since the oven was not an option tonight. The August heat and humidity were pushing the AC to its max. It was 3:30 pm, and hubby wouldn’t be home for another two hours. She would get everything ready, and then wouldn’t open that back door until necessary.

Even inside, she was sweating in a tank top and the hot pink lace bikini briefs that hubby loves. She clicked on Spotify, and as Jason Mraz sang through the airwaves, she started cutting up zucchini.

She was in her own world singing along when suddenly, a calloused hand came around her neck, squeezed tightly, and dry lips crashed on the back of her neck. It was supposed to be a kiss but was more like cat claws scraping across her skin.

At the same time, the other calloused hand reached roughly into her panties, rubbing her clit as if rubbing off a scratcher ticket.

A thousand thoughts ran through her mind. Was she being assaulted? She still had the knife in her hand! No, she knew those calloused hands and that musky, sandalwood cologne; she gave that to him every year for his birthday. She knew it was her husband. And she knew that this was one of his fantasies, to take her in the kitchen. But he never said he dreamed it would be this rough or forceful.

She started to ask, and immediately the hand on her neck moved to shove her upper body down on the counter, his hand pushing her face flat against the cool, hard granite. Simultaneously, he shoved two fingers into her pussy that was surprisingly lubricated.

He removed his fingers from her wet pussy, only long enough to grab the knife from her hand. He cut each side of her panties and ripped them away, tossing them to the side, and threw the knife in the sink. She heard his zipper but never saw his pants drop to the floor.

Then she felt his cock enter her with a fervor and lust that she had never felt from him before. This was not making love; this was fucking. He rammed into her over and over, her face pushed against the cold granite so hard she thought she might leave an imprint. It was a heady contrast with the heat of the friction happening with each thrust in her cunt.

He grunted, and she couldn’t help but moan as his engorged shaft hit her everywhere she needed to be hit. She didn’t want to like it, but she did. It was intense and chaotic, and they got lost in the sheer intensity of it all.

He grabbed her waist with his free hand and pulled her harder against him, pounding her so hard, his balls hit her ass and her clit. She couldn’t help but scream as his cock rubbed her swollen sponge and went further to smash into her cervix like a wrecking ball.

She felt him swell in her and start to twitch as her tunnel walls squeezed his rock-hard dick. She barely heard his animal-like growl over her own screeching as they volleyed hot cum back and forth; she squeezed him tightly, and he pushed shot after shot of semen into her.

He collapsed onto her back and released her upper neck. They then slid to the floor, and he held her in his arms. They sat like this for several minutes as she felt the mixture of their fluids draining out of her onto the floor. Sweat dripped off both of them and mixed together on the tile just like their cum had inside her.

Finally, he took her face in his hands, looked into her eyes apologetically, kissed her like her husband usually kissed her, and said, “I’m sorry about that.”

But there was something in his face; there was a frustration, a sadness, something fueled this little ride they'd just taken.

“Either you had a really good day or a really bad day. Spill it!” she said to him.

He sighed deeply.“Bad. I got fired.”

“Well, on a good note, we have steak for dinner!” she said, and they both laughed, hugging each other.