This is the female side of "
A Roommates Pussy
."
*
My name is Audrey. I am a 24 year old, married, registered nurse. I am not happy with the marriage or the sex that my husband provides. I was a virgin when I married Hank and have never cheated so maybe this is as good as it gets. But I hear women talk about earth rocking orgasms and wonder if I will ever have an orgasm except from my fingers or if I did and did not know it. Can great sex really exist?
I went on birth control right after we were married because this was not the mate for the rest of my life. Not that I had plans to move on, but move away and focus on my career would be nice. As a young girl, there were images of a husband and children in my mind, but as soon as I met Hank's friends, it became obvious that this was not the dream. It was a boring nightmare.
Hank was part of a group of wife swappers, led by an ugly little guy named George and his fat wife, Nancy. Hank, George, and sometimes Nancy bugged me to join in, which gave me the creeps. I was not brought up like that. The few men I met before I stopped going to their parties certainly would not tempt me. Hank was mad because I would not go to any more of their parties. I was mad because he would not shut up about it.
Besides fat Nancy there were more unattractive women. The men were mostly short like Hank and mid-twenties with zero personalities. All but two, that is. Tommy was about 6'7'' and handsome. A lot of the girls would flirt with him and even offer sex in front of everyone. Rumor had it that his penis was long and fat. That leaves Bruce. Bruce was the man I wish I had met before Hank. He was average height, good looking and educated. He had studied engineering and was working cheap in some apprentice program. My husband was a high-school dropout. Hank was making good money as a night Forman, but that was as far as he could go. The more I thought about Bruce, the more tempting he became. And the more I questioned my puritan morals. But I am not that kind of girl and Bruce is not interested in me. Besides, he is with Sheila.
I had heard a rumor that Bruce was sleeping with Tommy's girlfriend Kathy when Tommy had other plans. Was I jealous? Maybe, but it could never be between Bruce and me. That was only in a private place in my mind. Of course, Hank would love it if he thought that would get us into George's group.
Then one day Hank called me at work to say that Bruce needed a place to stay. I suggested our spare room before I thought about my answer. It was okay because Hank was happy with my answer.
Bruce and I both worked days so we had several hours together each evening until Hank got home, well after eleven. Sometimes I wished he wouldn't come home at all. My time together with Bruce grew to be the high point of my day. Sometimes he would fix us food but usually it was me. Everybody's laundry and mending Hank's work clothes fell on me too.
One night when I washed Bruce's clothes, I mended a torn sleeve. Bruce thanked me and kissed me on the cheek. Even though it was only a kiss on the cheek, there was a lot of passion and heat in it. I wondered if I should tell Hank. It was probably something George and Hank had cooked up to trap me.
It was hard to believe that Bruce would join their game. But why risk it. I wanted to leave Hank, but as the innocent one, not the guilty.
When Hank came home, I wondered if he knew about my kiss on the cheek. What if he did and I did not say anything? So I said, "I hope you don't mind if I mended Bruce's shirt while I was doing laundry. It earned a kiss on the cheek for me."
"So did you fuck him to say you are welcome?"
"You are sick, Hank! I never should have told you because your little Hank brain would have to twist it around. A little more time with George and you will be as stupid as him! George must be proud of what he is turning you into."
"George is a firefighter. That is something to be proud of."
"George is a pervert and he is turning you into one too." Now I wished that I had not told Hank. Now I wish I had not married Hank! His sick mind is turning me away.
I put on my thinnest nightgown and waited for Bruce to come home. I was mad at Hank when I made the decision to wear it in front of Bruce but starting to feel guilty and then embarrassed as the evening wore on and no Bruce. I had heard stories about Bruce and Kathy. Was that why he was late? Was I jealous?
When Bruce finally arrived, I let my jealousy show and then I was embarrassed about it. Perhaps I was going too far. I am still a married woman even if my husband has lost all my respect. My self-respect was still important to me.
Every time I moved, my nightgown rode up, more and more. The only right and proper thing to do was to correct it but I caught Bruce starring at my legs so I pretended not to notice. Then he got up and walked to the bowl on the television for a piece of candy. On the way back he stared at my crotch. Maybe the only decent thing to do was to cover up but instead I gave him the biggest smile that I could. Oh my God! What have I done? Bruce must think I am a tramp. Exactly what Hank and George want me to become. And if Bruce is working with those perverts, I will divorce Hank and move away. I will go far enough away that they will never find me.
Am I craving Bruce or hating Hank? The truth may be both But I better get more on before Hank comes home and starts making sick comments. Maybe he would be right but I was not willing to admit it to him or myself. I told Bruce that I better get more on before Hank came home and got the wrong idea. Then I realized that I had just admitted to having too little on. Oh well, after showing off my panty clad crotch and giving a big smile he probably already felt encouraged. That may not be the right message to send but it was already sent. My moral battle raged on while I pretended to be absorbed in the television show.
When Hank came home we were sitting on opposite ends of the couch watching television. My heavy bathrobe and our distance should have kept Hank's dirty mind quiet but it did not. He immediately made a remark, so I got mad and went to bed.
Hank stayed out watching television with Bruce so I started fingering myself and fanaticizing about Bruce. It would be nice to be asleep when Hank came in. It would be nice to ride Bruce. What am I thinking? Am I turning into the slut that they want? And is Bruce one of them?
My orgasm was intense. I shook all over and my eyes rolled up in my head. My finger kept going as I continued to cum. It felt so good that I wanted to go thank Bruce. Instead, I went to sleep. I awoke when my alarm went off in the morning. Hank was beside me snoring away like a freight train.
I felt really guilty. I had not had sex with Bruce, but I had fantasized and even showed him my pussy through my panties. As the day wore on my guilt subsided and my fantasies were returning. But it was wrong and could never be. I am a married woman, no matter how bad the marriage.
That evening, I was in my thin nightgown again when Bruce came in. I wondered if my little B-cup tits would even interest him. But I was pretty sure that he liked my legs and my pussy. Oh my GOD! What was I thinking? What am I doing? Am I just a slut after all?
Bruce scolded me for telling Hank about his innocent peck on the cheek and we made a pact not to tell him anything else unless we both agreed on the content.
Then he was kissing me on the mouth and shoving his tongue in my mouth. At first I fought him, and then relaxed into it. But then his hands were everywhere. I wanted to yell wait. I wanted to slow down so my brain could process what was happening. I wanted to weigh how wrong it was against how much I wanted it to happen. But how good it felt was winning out over how wrong it was.
Then the fear of Hank walking in and catching us took over. If he came home early, he would walk right into the living room and see us. I suggested that we go in Bruce's room. I was acting like a slut again but we were past the point of no return and had to get out of the living room.
