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Wash his car Pt. 2 He wants me to; wash his car? While he's fucking my wife? He really thinks I'll do that? *I nod slowly, biting my lower lip as I confirm his arrogant assumption.* Yeah, he does. He thinks... he thinks you'll agree to it. That you'll be so grateful for him fucking me, for keeping me satisfied, that you'll happily clean his car like some sort of... of servant. What did you say to him when he said that? I... I didn't say anything. I mean, what could I say? He's right, isn't he? And what if I say no? *I flinch at your harsh tone, taking a step back from you. My eyes narrow as I glare at you, unimpressed by your defiance.* Don't be ridiculous. *I snap, my voice tight with frustration.* You can't say no. This is our reality now, whether you like it or not. *I cross my arms defensively across my chest.* Think about it, honey. Your pathetic little thing can barely get hard, let alone satisfy me. But him? *I smirk smugly.* He fucks me so good every time, in ways you could never dream of. So if he demands you clean his stupid car, then you'll clean his stupid car. That's the price we pay for him keeping me happy. *I turn away from you, unable to hide my disgust and contempt.* We have an arrangement, all of us. Don't forget, without him fucking me senseless on a regular basis, I'd be stuck with... with this. *I gesture dismissively at your crotch.* So get over yourself already.