The whole week had been a build-up, a constant mental rehear..

The whole week had been a build-up, a constant mental rehearsal. I’d been expecting the photographer, waiting for him, all week. I would get myself in a sexual mood, but every day brought another postponement, another excuse. Frustration simmered inside me because I was ready. Ready to step in front of the camera, to finally create the new content, the photos and videos my site demanded. I was primed and horny to pose, to perform, to work. But a deeper, more personal tension coiled within me. Truthfully, what I really needed, what I was craving in a way I barely acknowledged, was another man's touch, another man's… attention, another man using my body. Someone different, someone exciting, to handle this mommy pussy in a way my own husband can't.

My husband, bless his heart, saw the storm gathering. He's always been careful to keep a respectful distance from the whirlwind of my online life, a world he doesn't quite understand but supports from the sidelines. "Lay down," he murmured, his voice softer than usual. "Face down. Let me do something about this."

He straddled me, the familiar weight grounding, and his hands, hesitant at first, began to move. Slow circles, gentle pressure on my ass. "I know I'm not supposed to get into your... business," he said, rubbing my ass and resting his cock on my cheeks. "but I can see you're stressed. You need this."

As his cock pressed into the hollows of my loose mommy pussy, a strange thought surfaced, unbidden and a little reckless. "You know," I said, the words slipping out before I could quite catch them, "if one of my fans was doing this, they'd fuck me proper with a big cock. That's why I’m so popular."

He paused for a beat, his cock still. Then, a deeper pressure, a shift in his stroke. "Oh?" he rumbled, his voice a little lower. "And how would a 'fan' properly fuck my wife?"

"They'd have a bigger cock and be more… aggressive," I breathed, a little thrill, a little dare in my voice. "They'd really dig in. They'd know what I like."

He responded, not with words, but with his cock. Deeper now, harder. I could tell this pissed him off. He began to put effort into his stroke with slow, insistent pressure. In my mind, though, a niggling thought persisted. His cock… is nice, it's my man, familiar, but is he really big enough for a woman made like me? Big enough? Honestly, probably not.

A restless energy stirred within me. This is absolutely not working for me. "Harder!," I instructed, my voice sharper than I intended. "Deeper, other men would have me screaming and fuck me better.”

Maybe it was the challenge in my voice, maybe it was something else entirely, but something shifted. His dick became less about fucking his wife, more about… something else. Maybe fucking a slut. He dug, his cock deeply and unyielding. Then, a sudden tug, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling just enough to tilt my head back towards him. He pounded away at my pussy with a new kind of intensity, almost anger, his cock lost it's gentle stroke and became almost… punishing.

And yet, strangely, there was a release in that tension I was getting what I wanted. It was a different kind of release. He worked my pussy over and pulled his firm cock in and out until finally he cum inside me.

I lay there, face pressed into the soft fabric of the bedding, the lingering smell of sweat and my pussy spilling cum and used. Mommy's pussy was used. Effective? Yes but as the silence settled, the thought, persistent and unwelcome, drifted back into my head. Other men would do it better.

It was a thought I couldn't quite shake, a whisper of dissatisfaction that lingered even after everytime he fucks me. And in the quiet of the evening, I wondered what it truly would have been like to get used by a good cock made for a woman of my stature.