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It was a quiet rainy day. The house was clean. It was too wet to work outside. So your husband had an idea. He picked out three sets of lingerie, then had you pick two.

Taking you into bedroom. A room your husband insisted be decorated in a dark, masculine space. Telling you to put on the pretty pink set. He doesn't give you any privacy. Commenting about your body. Lewd praise as you move. And when you are ready, he leads you to the bed.

"Models are seen and not heard. Not a word till I tell you."

And he poses you like a pin-up. Taking photo after photo. Each change in pose is an excuse to grope you. Mauling your tits after freeing them. Fingering you after pulling your panties aside. Listening to him praise you for being so wet. Making you show off your flexibility when he gets you naked.

The dark lingerie finds you in the tub. The poses are different. The treatment is the same. Hours later, you are a whimpering, drooly mess. Teased, objectified, praised, and degraded all at once.

In this office, you kneel in front of him. Pleased to suck his cock mindlessly while editing the photos. You know he is going to send them off to the printing service. Then, another photography book of your photos will join the others on the shelf. Your husband took you being his porn seriously.

And it didn't bother you did it. They say actions speak louder than words. Your husband put a lot of time and effort into those books. And it made you feel truly pretty, didn't it. Words cost nothing, but turning you into his porn was an act of art.

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You couldn't help but smile. It's not like you thought there would be debate. But when your husband to be came up behind you and told you that you were taking his name, and there would be none of that silly hyphenated name nonsense, it made you smile.

Being told that he was going to mark his territory like that made you so happy. Maybe it was silly, but you had already spent hours practicing signing your new name.

Now, you have to look at all of the things that would need a new monogram.

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I usually only talk about men, but let's be honest? Few things are as good as a woman's body.

It's so soft, so warm and so touchable that it's practically impossible to resist

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imagining camping, sharing a sleeping bag w u because you forgot yours n i wasnt gonna have u shivering with no warmth during the night

you clamber on in n it's real snug, as you'd expect. it's a sleeping bag.

but we get to talking n settling down, until eventually we find a mutual silence - before i drift off - leaving you awake n unable to move in fear of waking me

but maybe an hour - a few hours - maybe in the morning - i wake up because of your moving

i wake up, groggy and ready to drift back off, but horrified by the feeling of agitated moving behind me. shuffling, very rhythmically - with a grunt following, confirming my suspicions.

you were masturbating.

you were fucking wanking when we were sharing a sleeping bag, and i could feel your arm move with every thrust of your cock into your hands - your hips pushing your cock to fuck into your palm, making your bulbous head push into my bum with each stroke

i couldnt move. nor say a word. what would you do if you knew i were awake? i figured you'd get yourself off and go back to sleep.

never did i imagine that i'd feel you get to restless you'd plunge your hands beneath my pyjama bottoms to pull my panties n bottoms down - grabbing my pussy through my legs to pull me up to an angle so that you could slot your cock into my unexpecting pussy, planting your hands on my hips and thrusting into me

my mouth fell open - not facing you - so you couldn't see... but shocked by your confidence, assuming i was sleeping and confident enough to fuck me under those pretences

your cock lurched my insides with every thrust, pushing deep with your hands manoeuvring my whole body by the hips to fit yourself into me better

one hand leaves my hips - reached around to go beneath my shirt, grabbing a palmful of my boobs that hung to one side as i slept, your hand slapping he flesh before vicing painfully around it to use it as a grip to thrust your twitching cock into me

until you reached your climax - where i felt you pull out, much to my relief. maybe you'd go cum outside - on your roll mat instead of in my sleeping bag i'd graciously offered.

wrong.

i feel a sticky spurt across my flower, my pussy coated in thick substance as a groan behind me sounds.

and once my pussy was sufficiently coated in your seed and had your fingers play around with the unconscious lips, smearing your cum everywhere - i feel you pull my panties back up to my hips with my joggers, pressing the now cold fluid against my pussy and keeping it there. your sperm up against my pussy as if for safekeeping.

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Your husband has always been protective and possessive of you. But once he got you pregnant, it went up a level. He stopped letting you go anywhere alone. You swear you heard him growl at some men he felt got too close. The feral looks on his face and the growl, making you need to change your panties more than once.

Checking in with you to make sure you hadn't walked too far. The only chair you were allowed was his lap when you needed rest. More than one hand reaching out to touch your belly without permission got swatted away by him.

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In my opinion, few things are as patriarchal and sexy as a man marking his territory by getting his wife pregnant every year right after the end of the postpartum period.

Just imagine:

It's been a little over eight weeks since you gave birth to your fourth baby and you're more tired than ever, with three more small children — beautiful babies just like your husband who are between one and three years old — in addition to the youngest, you simply don't have time to take care of yourself anymore.

But that day things seemed different. Your mother-in-law had shown up at your house to pick up your three older children, leaving only the youngest baby — who was quieter than ever that day — and you were finally able to take care of yourself completely that day without having children calling you all day long.

You cleaned the house and tidied up every room — your husband liked the house to be tidy, but because of the baby and the other children he was being lenient with you — you took a long shower and removed all the hair on your body that was already irritating you, you fixed your hair, and finally you made your husband's favorite meal.

And when your husband came home around seven in the evening and saw you there: in a pink and white checkered dress that showed off your breasts, full of milk, your hair styled in that hairstyle he loved, your makeup simple, and your belly? Completely empty, without a baby, and that irritated him more than he thought possible.

You were a good wife — you took care of the house, his parents, and the other members of your family — and you didn't deserve to be without your babies, you deserved to always be full of them, and he would make sure you were full of another one of your babies that night.

And even if you didn't want another baby—you were so tired with four kids—he would still make you want it, filling you with his seed until it overflowed your pretty pussy and he put it back inside with his own fingers while you moaned in his ear saying you couldn't take it anymore.

But you'll take it, every cumshot and every child he puts inside you after all: "You want to be a good wife, don't you, love? Then you'll have my babies, every baby I want."

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I've literally had "Baby Fever" and "Housewife Fever" for weeks now and it just won't go away. I just want to be stuffed with his babies and be his pretty, well-behaved wife who takes care of the house while he goes to work.

Fuck, I want his babies and for him to just marry me and give me over to his name.

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its not "bio-essentialism" its just the truth.

Girls, yes even "ftm" girls, bodies are literally built to take cocks, get impregnated, grow and give birth to babies. That's why you get that craving deep inside of your core, craving being penetrated. And every month when you ovulate you desire unprotected sex. You tell yourself its not because you want to get bred, but you do. Your going to get inseminated, its what you're literally built for. Gender identity or sexuality doesnt matter, its just your truth. Stop fighting and live your truth.

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Oh shit, I want a baby. I really want baby. I really want someone to get me pregnant

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Your body belongs to your husband, so why should he ask permission to enter your pussy or cum inside? You belong to him.

Every piece of your body belongs to him and the proof of this is the fact that after marriage you receive his surname.

Let him come into you and say nothing but "Yes, sir" as he fills your pussy with his cum and makes you a mommy.

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Patriarchy is finally back in fashion and I couldn't be happier, girls are not made to lead but to be wives and mothers.

Let your father choose your husband and marry this man without arguing, take care of your husband and the children you are going to give him.

Take care of your appearance too, no man deserves to have a poorly cared for woman by his side.

Always wear clothes that are easy for him to access and when he gets home after work help him rest, either by putting his food on the plate, helping him in the bath or simply giving him your pussy so he can take out his anger and fatigue after working so hard to support you.

That's our duty girls and we know it.

Our duty is to take care of our home, family and especially our husbands, after all, men already do the hardest thing the least we should do is take care of them.

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Every girl deserves to be bred daily

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im jusst ur average modern femenist who spends her nights rubbing her needy little cunt to mysoginistic porn

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Would sucking on my tits make u feel better? I bet it would