*** A personal note to whoever enjoys these stories. First of all, thank you. I recently re-read everything after a long hiatus and honestly think they're terrible. I hate them. I've decided to make this a lot more like a diary and I like this new style as I am articulating my feelings and fears as a submissive, and human. I think I just ignored all that stuff before and only wanted to think about the fucking. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy.***
*****
He pokes at my breast. No, that's not entirely accurate. He pokes at my nipple. Pinching crudely, "What you doing babe?" I put my hand over his and press his entire hand into my breast, squeezing, massaging, thinking please take the hint as I moved my hand away and allowed him to take over.
Back to the crude pinching that always feels so... demeaning. I push his hand away and instantly he's back at it. I swat him away this time and cross my arms. Covering every inch of these pathetically tiny tits that I can.
"Why don't you ever let me touch you? You never have. Who are you saving it for?" He demands.
Because your touch is demeaning?! Because you've never failed to remind me of just how unsatisfying you find my body and when you touch me like that I want to scream in revulsion, I think.
What I say is "I don't know, I just don't like it. You'd think that if for the last 15 years I've been pushing you away you'd take the hint and stop trying."
"You're MY wife," he emphasizes the word 'my' and it's like a punch to the gut. "I want to touch you."
Because what he wants is more important than how I want to be touched. I cross my arms more tightly across my chest and stare straight ahead.
About thirty seconds pass and he starts adjusting his boner in his sweatpants, "look babe."
Fucking Christ! Exasperated and not wanting to fight I relent, "go close the door."
Eagerly he does. He gets back in bed and tries to touch my nipples again. I swat him away and tell him to take off his pants. I crawl between his legs and position myself in the "reverse cowgirl" position. I spit on my hand use it to lubricate myself before inserting him. I think of every other man that's been between my thighs in the last 10 years and wish for any one of them at this moment. I start to rub my clit as I fantasize about the last one. Mr. Big Dick, I remember the surprise I felt the first time I was on top, how he reached depths inside me I didn't know existed. I can almost feel him now. I start thrusting myself a bit more enthusiastically onto my husband's dick. I rub my clit and close my eyes and travel in space and time to any place but here. I'm in any other man's bed. I feel my arousal building, I might just be able to enjoy this, I think as I let out a soft moan. I feel his hands grip my hips and squeeze. I hear him grunt his release a mere 3 minutes after we started.
No orgasm for me, but at least it was quick, I think as I grab one of the unmatched socks I keep next to the bed for this purpose and stuff it between my legs to catch the mess.
I pull my pants back on and go back to my nightly routine, keeping the sock in place until I wake the next morning. When I shower I clean extra vigorously, slipping soapy fingers inside myself trying to cleanse the memory of the last night's events.
My husband's an asshole, he'll tell you that himself. He tells me that every time I complain about it. He'll say "I told you that when I met you, babe." Like it's an excuse.
"I know, but you're supposed to be an asshole to everyone but me," I reply.
He laughs.
I think he's just selfish. So consumed with his own needs that he doesn't realize the hurt that he inflicts. Things could be worse, they have been worse. So, I think of the children, and I stay. Hoping it's the right decision. Hoping that routine and stability and the good times will make it all right.
It's been 3 years since I cheated on him. Mr. Big Dick. He was a real mind fuck, so when he ghosted me after a year of weekly, semi-routine, hookups I had one quick rebound and then stopped for a while. Life gets busy. I fell into the routine. I don't go around chasing dick.
At work I was promoted to a very different position than the one I was in previously. One with a lot more responsibility and requiring a knowledge of a completely different set of regulations than what I was currently working with. So, I dove into my work and lost the itch for a while. With the responsibility came perks and freedom. I was given a company car, computer, cell phone, and the freedom to decide my schedule on a daily basis.
I've been doing this job long enough that's it's become routine. I am finding myself getting frustrated with... everything. My husband tries less frequently to please me, or really just to be an active participant in our lives. I feel like I am his mother. Caretaker. It's exhausting.
I'm bored.
My job involves, among other things, visiting businesses that are licensed by our agency and ensuring they are in compliance with our regulations. It's at one of these businesses where my next adventure begins.
My assigned vehicle is in for repairs so my supervisor picks me up and I ride with him for the day. One of the businesses we stop in has just brought on some new help, so they invite the guy to sit in on our review so he can learn. I'm a bitch. I start off hard so they can appreciate it when I'm soft and give them a break when I find their mistakes. The new guy starts asking thoughtful questions so I decide to help him out. I email him some documents that will make his job a bit easier.
I'm lost in thought when he says to me, flirtatiously, "I have a feeling we'll be seeing you around again." This surprises me. I look at him, appraising him, and he smiles. He's... attractive. I didn't really notice at first. We usually only audit businesses once a year, unless there's a problem. I return the smile and say "Maybe I'll stop in and see how you're doing in a few months."
We finish up our review and I promise to email one last document. About an hour later, when I find the document he needs, I email it to him. He immediately replies "Thank you so much for all your help. You're an angel. Here's my number, you can call or text me anytime day or night." I feel my face and body flush at this compliment. Is he flirting with me?
I spend the weekend fantasizing about this flirtation. I am sitting in my car, waiting for my next assignment, when my mind starts to wander. My hands begin to travel my body as I wonder what it would be like to be with another man again. How will he touch me? What does he taste like? What does he smell like? I reach my hands into my pants to gauge my arousal and find myself soaked. I let my fingers play in the sloppy wetness of it and before I realize exactly what I'm doing I am rubbing myself to climax. Fingers furiously circling my clit I finish quite uneventfully. I am myself overcome with exhaustion and convince myself that he was just being polite. I've read too much into his comments and should forget all about it.
On Monday I feel a renewed sense of boldness. I think of one more thing I could email him without seeming like a desperate creep, so I do. Then I text him to let him know I sent him one more thing that I forgot to mention and to let me know if he has any questions.
"Thanks, you're a sweetheart." He replies instantly.
"Nah, I'm just killing time," I say.
