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No waiting on me to take over.

Just Samantha doing whatever the fuck she wanted.

And apparently my wife had lost her fucking mind.

I kept fucking her from underneath anyway. Hands off like she said, hips slamming up while she bounced.

“Oh fuck, Sam.”

She leaned closer.

“You like it?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Then shut up.”

I stared at her.

“Who taught you to talk to me like that?”

She froze for half a second.

So quick I almost missed it.

Then her hand went around the back of my neck.

“I told you I got tired of fuckin missionary.”

I frowned.

Before I could answer, she kissed me.

Hard.

And whatever the fuck I was about to say disappeared because her tongue was in my tonsils and my dick was so far in her cervix I already envisioned our 5th kid.

Fuck.

She climbed off, turned around, and sat back on it reverse. That ass in my face. Riding harder. I grabbed the chair and thrusted up again, beating that pussy from underneath while she threw it back.

Then she pulled me to the bed.

Pushed me down.

Got on all fours and looked back.

“Come here.”

I got behind her.

She stopped me.

“No. Under.”

I laid back. She straddled me facing away again, then switched, put one foot on the mattress, rode me like she was trying to break the frame.

Wild.