Your mine

As the morning sun streamed through the window, I watched my wife, Karrie, getting ready for school. She leaned against the bed, her clothes slightly lifted, revealing her breasts. I couldn't help but be captivated by her beauty.

"You look stunning, Karrie," I said, unable to hide my admiration.

She didn't smile, but her eyes met mine, filled with a mix of indulgence and mystery. "Thank you," she replied softly.

I couldn't help but feel a surge of delight and mischievousness, even though we had already been intimate earlier. There was something alluring about the way she stood there, her body on display.

"My name is Plongkie or Kloy," I thought to myself, reflecting on our unconventional marriage. We had been wedded by our parents due to our wealthy backgrounds. Karrie, just 17, and I, 18, both came from affluent families. Despite her reputation for being mean, I considered myself lucky to have her. She possessed physical beauty that was hard to ignore, with her beautiful face, long black wavy hair, and notably large breasts. But beneath her exterior, there was a strong-willed cheerleader who stood out from the crowd.

As I continued to watch her, I couldn't ignore the underlying tension in our relationship. Our lack of love for each other often led to conflicts. Tonight, I contemplated punishing her for her behavior, but the impending visit from her parents tomorrow complicated things further.

"Karrie," I finally spoke up, breaking the silence. "We need to talk."