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The C|Suite is a 'letters' column in which readers send in borderline ridiculous sexcapades, resulting often in explicit and unnecessary detail.
Govern Me Hardy, Daddy
Dear C|Suite,
These last two years have been a struggle.
Being a married 38-year old woman to my loving husband has been the façade of a lifetime, long and arduous; we have been together in marriage since late 2019.
Don’t get me wrong, my husband is everything a modern woman could
ask for: He does the laundry, cooks with an apron on, cleans, gives me backrubs, is ‘progressive’ in his views, supports my small business/yoga grift, stands with Ukraine, but pees sitting down, wears a mask inside and outside, wears it when he dry humps me then nuts in his pants (he thinks normal sex is icky), negelcts to manspread and mansplain when in a public setting and supports any current thing.
It's essentially like marrying yourself. And, what woman doesn't love herself?
But, there is one small problem: I have recently fallen in love with the government, their experts and authorities.
The amount of times I’ve had to change my soaked panties during the pandemic, couldn’t even give you a number. It’s a lot, a lot. Good thing my husband does the laundry. He's really good with that Tide To-Go instant stain remover with my period stains and getting the discharge marks to disappear on any non-whites.
Oopsie, sorry. I am not trying to be racist. I meant, any panties that are colored/non-white like that blacks. Shit, sorry. I meant he's really good at getting the undesirables erased with that Tide To-go.
I hope you don't think I am racist.
I support Ukraine. I swear. I made pins and sold them to people I know so that the funds could go toward getting Ukraine weapons in order to kill people. I am Liberal, and pro-peace.
I know there is a major war that has been going on for years in Ethiopia that has resulted in the ethnic cleansing of half-a-million, but the white people in Ukraine need us more because its on the news. Also, if Ukraine falls to that hot thug Putin, it would possibly put my European vacation for this summer on hold if he proceeded to take the Baltics. Hubby and I have been planning this for months as per our marriage counsellor.
I haven't made any Ethiopia pins to sell to my friends, family and co-workers because quite frankly, the flag for Ukraine is a lot easier to sow. It's not that I don't care about dark people in a sandbox, it's just that my talents can only go so far.
Anyways, I digress...
Back to the man I should be thinking about. My husband.
His[My husband's] agreeableness, submissive nature is why, he was the perfect catch. Easily controllable (unlike Putin) and could be managed without much criticism. As a woman who loves control, I thought marriage was going to be my thing and my happy place.
At first, everything was fine. I don’t know what happened but the spark left during the pandemic. It changed me in such a profound way, like the wetness from my vagina soaking into my cheap panties from Target. I could feel that change happening, slowly, as it dribbled down my inner thighs.
The first time my pussy throbbed was when the government forced us to wear masks in public. I thought it was a one-off, that my cunt was mistaken and confused. “I love my husband.” I told myself. Then came all the authoritative, non-elected officials that said we needed to be locked down. My pussy began to ache and convulse when glued to CNN, MSNBC, CBC, BBC and the rest of the alphabet. “My husband never tells me what to do.” I reiterated.
Why was my pussy so excited?
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The government was starting to pay attention to me, more so than did my husband who was at work all day long slinging coffee at the Bucks.
It was exciting and new. I began to receive lots of texts (shelter in place notifications), telling me where to go and what to do. The notifications on my iPhone from the government were so stimulating. My pussy was like Pavlov's dog at the sound of every tone from my phone.
It was a rollercoaster of emotions: Fear, dread, shock, tease, anticipating what was next, push and pull. I felt young again. I began to resent my husband who only texted me to say he loved me and not to miss our daily foot rub session in where he would break out various products from The Body Shop.
In all the time I’ve been married to my husband he has never once forced his authority onto my body, or told me where I could and could not go, who I could meet with or visit. He's never coerced or blackmailed me into a position where he could stick something inside of me via the threat of taking something away from me.
But then, the government began dictating what I should wear, think, and say along with what needed to go inside of my body.
Let me just say, I was over-the-moon horny from this.
My husband, however, has never really fucked me like that. He is a strong believer in “My body, my choice.”
I felt guilty, but it soon became an obsession.
At first it was maybe a few minutes, watching that gay guy on CNN read the latest death counts.
Then the next week it was a couple hours in the morning, then all afternoon.
By the third month into the lockdowns, I was hooked on my new man: Big Daddy Government and the gangbang of media.
My husband, who works in an essential service job, was out all day. He would often come home after work and ask what I did and how my day was. I would lie and say that I did some laundry or actually made a full meal for myself.
Somehow I knew that he knew that wasn’t the case. I have never done the laundry, or made a single meal my whole life…or cleaned anything.
I am a woman in the modern era.
Instead, I never told him the truth about my affair and what I did all day throughout the pandemic, which was: Masturbate to the death toll, hoping more government control would ensue as a result.
I masturbated my pussy to earth-shattering orgasms via all the pictures of people lining up on those painted circles in the grocery stores, retail chains.
Seeing people obeying the government by wearing their muzzle always got my vagina to a satisfying tingle. Dancing nurses on TikTok, so macabre I couldn’t resist getting on-top of my counter into a straddle position, in order to fuck the stainless steel lemon juicer in the kitchen— we got it as a gift from our wedding ( I had never used it until then).
One day, hubby almost caught me diddling with my mask on in front of the T.V whilst Tony Fauci giving an interview on CNN. I screamed, “Govern me harder, Daddy!” as I squirted all over the remote that was inside my fat cunt. It was a good thing I had a blanket over me and had recently ordered Burger King using Skip The Dishes, otherwise my pussy-stank wouldn’t have been masked so easily. It’s a fun little known fact that the burgers from there, if the juices get on your fingers, makes your fingers smell exactly like musky pussy.
Anyways…
That’s the main reason why I hate truckers and that stupid Freedom Convoy that helped get everyone’s freedoms back. Now the government has backed-off and no longer has that iron fist that I so desperately get moist for.
They [working white men] took that away from me. Now, I have to get back to normal with my husband, build-back-better with him. I try to get him to tell me what to do, but he told me that our marriage was one based on equity and fairness; egalitarian in nature.
So, in a way, he told me what to do….but didn’t really... because I can still do whatever I want. It’s not the same. I still to this day, even though the virus has a 99.8% survival rate, wear a mask in public.
Yes, when I ride my bike and also when I am in my car I mask-up. It's great because I don't have to put any effort into buying make-up. I get all the boosters because it is the only way that I can truly feel penetrated by overwhelming authority. I want to let the government know that I still think about it, the time we had and how it made me feel.
I lost my small yoga business because of the lockdowns sanctioned by the government. I’ve never been fucked harder than that.
I still dream at night and think about all the ‘stimmies’ that I got; fiscally, emotionally and physically.
Now, thanks to the government printing off trillions of dollars that we didn’t have, high inflation is on the rise. I just keep getting fucked harder by the government. So fucking wet just typing that.
I wish my husband could fuck me as hard as the government. It’s too late though, there is no turning back. I can’t un-see or un-feel what has been done. The government is bigger than my husband in many ways, and fucks me everyday at the gas station (carbon taxes), at the grocery store, at the mall, at the airport, in my house, on vacation, at work, in the hospital and every year at the end of April (Income taxes).
There is just so much fucking, it’s driving my pussy mad. I can’t stop thinking about how much I keep getting fucked. I am so glad I voted Liberal!
I am also weirdly glad that I told my husband he needed to vote Liberal, too.
So in a way, my husband did his part. He helped me to get fucked by the government.
My new lover, protector and provider. Govern me harder, please.
I have to stop typing now; my husband will be home soon and I need him to put all my wet panties in the wash.
If only the government could do my laundry, too.
A girl can dream!
Yours truly Horny,
Mrs. Governedhard