Trash Bag

I was tired of hearing is constant complaining , his insistent pestering about the most minor things around the house. The longer I was stuck with him, the more I could feel myself going insane.

Tonight was the night that I finally snapped. He came down to the kitchen after showering, complaining that I was still cleaning up in the kitchen instead of meeting him in our bedroom. He was so bother that I wasn’t waiting across the bed, waiting for him to defile my body again, that he actually didn’t care that the kitchen was dirty.

That was fine. The kitchen was about to be dirty again. This time, he was going to be the one who left behind a big mess.

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