Wedding Invitation - Jody's Perspective

"Mine."

That’ s the word that hums in my skull when I see her again. Mine. Even with that shiny wedding band on her finger, even with her playing house with some soft-handed fuck named Nick. She can lie to herself all she wants, but her body? It remembers.

I don’t knock. The doorbell’s too polite for what I’m here to do. When she opens it, those big doe eyes go wide—scared, hungry. She’s in a dress, hair piled messy on her head like she just rolled out of bed.

"Couldn’t let you find out from someone else," I say, holding out the ivory envelope. Her wedding invitation.

She swallows hard. "Congratulations."

Cute. Like I came here for well-wishes.

Who's home? I asked. No one replied. I step inside, kick the door shut behind me. The air’s thick, sticky with summer heat and her nervous sweat. She doesn’t back away. She never backs away.

"You miss me?" I drag my fingers over the curve of her ass—fuller now, softer. Motherhood’s changed her. But not where it matters.

She shivers. "Yes."

That one word, that fucking whisper, and I’m done pretending.

I slam her against the wall, her gasp smothered under my mouth. No sweet kiss, no foreplay—just teeth and tongue and the sharp taste of her guilt. Her hands scramble at my belt, desperate little noises clawing out of her throat.

Still mine.

Her dress hit the floor. No panties. Good girl. My fingers slide between her thighs—soaking before I even touch her. She’s dripping, hips jerking like she’s ashamed of how bad she wants it.

"Still drip for me," I growl, slapping my cock against her clit. "Even after playing good wife."

She whimpers. "Please fuck me."

I don’t make it sweet. I shove into her in one brutal thrust, her tight little c**t stretching around my thick cock, fighting me. She cries out, nails biting into my shoulders.

"Take it." I fuck her harder, deeper, the wet slap of skin echoing off the walls. "This pussy’s mine."

She nods, tears streaking her cheeks, but her hips grind back, greedy. She loves this—being used, owned, ruined.

I don’t let her come until I’m ready. Until she’s sobbing, begging, thighs shaking. Then I let her clench around me, her orgasm wringing my cock like a vise.

I fill her up. Mark her. Let my cum spill deep where he’ll never reach.

When I pull out, she’s a mess—legs trembling, my spend already leaking down her thighs. I tuck myself away, wiping her slick off on her stomach.

"See you soon, baby."

The door clicks shut behind me.

She’ll be on the floor when I leave. Legs spread, ruined.

And she’ll stay that way.

Because wives can lie. Rings can shine.

But that c**t?

Always mine.