**First Time With My Husband**

We’d been married for two years, but that night was different. We’d talked about exploring more—about pushing boundaries—and I’d told him I wanted to try something rougher. The idea of him taking control, of hands around my throat while he fucked me, had been simmering in my mind for weeks. But neither of us had done it before.

It started slow—dinner, wine, the usual. But the tension was thick, the air between us crackling every time our fingers brushed. His eyes kept flicking to my neck, my mouth, my bare thighs where my dress rode up. I knew what he was thinking.

Back home, he didn’t waste time. The second the door shut, his hands were on me, his mouth crushing against mine as he backed me against the wall. His fingers tangled in my hair, yanking just enough to make me gasp. “You sure about this?” he growled, his voice low and rough.

I nodded, my breath already shaky. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

His fingers slid around my throat, pressing just enough to make my pulse jump. His grip was firm but careful—testing. I moaned, arching into him, and his fingers tightened. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make my vision sharpen, to make the heat between my legs coil tighter.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered.

I looked up. His gaze was dark, intense, locked onto mine as his other hand slid under my dress, dragging my panties down. His fingers found my pussy, already soaking wet, and he groaned. “Fuck, you’re dripping.”

I whimpered as he rubbed my clit in slow circles, his grip on my throat never easing. The pressure was dizzying, the mix of pleasure and control making my thighs shake. “Please,” I begged, my voice strained.

He didn’t make me wait. In one rough movement, he spun me around, bending me over the couch, my ass in the air. I heard his belt unbuckle, the rustle of his pants dropping, and then his cock was pressed against me, hot and thick.

He didn’t ask if I was ready. He just pushed inside, stretching me in one deep thrust that punched a cry from my throat. His hand wrapped around my neck again, pulling me back against him as he fucked me hard, each stroke driving deeper.

“You take me so fucking good,” he grunted, his hips slamming into me.

The slap of skin, the way his fingers tightened just a little more every time he bottomed out—it was overwhelming. My pussy clenched around him, my body trembling as pleasure built, sharp and electric.

“Look at me,” he demanded.

I turned my head, meeting his gaze as he pounded into me. His eyes were wild, possessive, and seeing him like that—seeing how much he wanted me—tipped me over. My orgasm hit me hard, my pussy clamping down around his cock as I cried out.

He groaned, his rhythm faltering as he came, his grip on my throat finally loosening as he filled me up. He held me close, panting against my shoulder, his fingers tracing the marks he’d left on my skin.

“Still breathing?” he murmured, kissing the spot where his hand had been.

I laughed, shaky but satisfied. “Yeah. And we’re definitely doing that again.”