His beard scratched my ear in a way that sent shivers up my spine as his hand wrapped around my mouth, the tefillin marks from the morning still imprinted on his arm and hand.

“Were you a good girl while I was gone?” He whispered, his voice gravelly.

I mumbled into his hand, unable to speak. I had been cleaning when he had come home. I knew he had to be at work soon. Shacharis ends not long before his commute begins. With his body pressed against my back, he walked me into the dining room. I could feel his hard cock pressing into my lower back, straining through his suit pants. My heart beat faster as he pinned me against the table, and he bent me over into the clean tablecloth. Meanwhile, his other hand slid up the back of my skirt, the garter belt and panties he required me to wear pushed to the side as his rough hands found their way between my thighs. I whimpered against his hand now, still wrapped around my mouth. His fingers finally found their goal and I heard him chuckle as he found me wet, driven wild by his forcefulness.

“Apparently not.” He growled. I could hear the lust in his voice.

He pulled me back up to him abruptly, his hand moving from my mouth to the back of my tichel, his fingers snaking their way inside to the back of my hair, gripping it as the tichel fell to the floor. I saw his eyes, dark brown and narrowed, the need in them like fire, consuming him. He forced me to my knees by my hair, withdrawing his hand from my cunt and undoing his belt. Soon, he had his suit pants undone. It was so hot to see him, still in his suit, his hardening cock free. He pulled my head closer and I licked my lips, but I hesitated too long and he groaned, forcing his cock past my lips and down my throat, holding my head by the hair as he forced himself deeper and deeper. I gagged but then began to breathe, my only thoughts on him.

No one at Shul would have guessed at what went on in our home. No one knew I wore naughty lingerie underneath my standard issue frum uniform and that I wore stockings and thongs while serving kiddush. The contrast, the forbidden quality made everything even more exciting. The rougher he was, the more I fell into his grip, the more I relaxed and felt free to be the creature he created. I moved my hands up the sides of his legs, tangling my fingertips in the strings of his tzitzis, dangling there as his hips rocked back and forth. I moaned around his cock and he moaned in response, pulling my mouth from his cock by the hair abruptly and yanking me up to bend over the table once more.

Without a word, he pushed me face down onto the table, yanking my skirt up in the back and sliding my thong to the side. I felt the head of his cock rubbing against my pussy and tried to push back against him, his hand in my back holding me down, pinning me to the table. I whined, frustrated, but he only laughed. Finally, with a single thrust, he entered me. It hurt a little, but I love the way it feels. I feel taken. He fucks me with rapid, deep strokes, not caring whether I cum or not…but I do, crying out as my fingers grip the tablecloth and I bite my lower lip. He groans and I feel him cum as well, burying himself in me, his weight pressing into me as he leans forward, one hand reaching up to tangle with mine. I feel him panting against me as he slowly slips his cock from me, trailing a sticky trail of cum against my inner thigh. He stands up, adjusting his kippah and zipping his pants, straightening himself as I still lay breathless on the dining room table, my knees shaking and my hair falling free onto the white tablecloth.

“See you after Mincha…try to behave.” I could hear him grinning as he smacked me on the ass and then walked out the door as I worked to catch my breath, my skirt still flipped up and my legs spread wide.