I stopped having filthy passionate sex with my husband years ago.

I began taking a yoga class about three years ago. My husband is a workaholic. He works 24/7 and barely has time for anything else. I have always been a very loyal woman, but a girl can only last so long before conjuring up crazy ideas. Thoughts of him having filthy passionate sex with another woman raced through my head. I became convinced that he was cheating on me. The times we did go out, it seemed like his eyes were everywhere else but on me. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I’d rather be a dirty slut than a decent house-wife.

I began to think that it’s better to have all eyes on me and be a slut, than to be invisible, even to my husband. I woke up with a new mindset and outlook on the world one day. Grabbing my husband’s Black Card and keys to his Mercedes Benz, I set out on a mission to the mall. I no longer cared about anything, there was no more logic in my mind, these items were his “untouchables” but, why should I care? And, with all that extra money why should he care? I strolled up and down the mall, trying on the sexiest outfits.

All I need is a tight dress to get him hard.

Perhaps if I begin to dress like a slut he will have filthy passionate sex with me, instead of other women. See, luckily for me, I have always taken care of myself. I may not dress like a sexy petite 20-year-old, but I do look like one, especially when I get dolled up. I have a very tight and toned body, weigh 120 lbs., long platinum blonde hair, perky tits, and a very tight pussy. The only thing I was missing to make my husband, and most importantly, every other man who laid eyes on me drool, was a sexy wardrobe.

His money is my money too, right?

By the time my husband got home, I had already gone on my shopping spree, to the spa, salon, and even the dealership to get a matching Mercedes Benz just like his. I probably spent $143,000 on the car and skimpy, short, tight outfits that day. I made it a point to toss all the receipts all over the front door entrance. His Black Card and keys were in plain sight so that he could put the puzzle pieces together. If only I had a camera there in the hallway to see the look on his face; I bet it was priceless.

Making him angry makes my pussy crave filthy passionate sex.

Meanwhile, I was upstairs. I dressed in knee-high black leather stripper heels, a black string “slingshot” one-piece that barely covered my nipples and slit. I was waiting with my freshly done highlights and a face full of makeup, and legs wide open at the edge of the bed; my vibrator teasing my creamy wet pussy. There is no way he will resist some filthy passionate sex with me now. He burst in pissed off; his face was beet-red. He walked towards me as I wore a smirk on my face. Grabbing my throat, I was about to pass out; he smacked me over and over again.

Fuck me, use me, treat me like your whore…

Eventually, he seemed to get turned on by the whole situation, dragging me to the floor. He stepped out his bottoms and began face fucking me, calling me a slut while he ripped the hair out of my scalp from stuffing his cock so far in. Finally, we were having filthy passionate sex and I was his little bitch, but it felt so good. It’s been so long since he had fucked me this good, and once he came violating my ass, I turned around asking if he liked it. With a smile on his face, and before saying a word, I handed him the divorce papers.

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Filthy passionate sex