James and Marsha were a modern couple in that both worked long, exhausting hours, their free time was consumed by basic house upkeep, familial obligations, and a modicum of relaxation after work. James worked an office job, the type that meant his daily exercise was stretching at his desk and the that the only sun he got was the blue etheric light of the computer screen. Marsha, meanwhile, worked twelve hour shifts at the warehouse. She got more exercise than James, sure, but she still spent a considerable amount of time in the forklifts. They loved each other, James and Marsha did, but things with them began to devolve into the relational entropy known as routine.
Each day would begin at 4 am, when James would wake up. He would get showered, clean up, and do all the related hygienical necessities, after which he would be on the road by 0430 for the leisurely hour drive through morning city traffic. Marsha, meanwhile would either wake up with James or still be working. Her shifts were 5 to 5, and she found herself being bounced around first and second shift near constantly. Her routine, on first shift, was to wake up with James, also do her morning bathroom routine, and then read a bit while eating toast, a bagel, or a bowl of cereal, along with a large cup of coffee. She would leave approximately fifteen minutes after James, and be at work by 5.
James and Marsha were not the most fit individuals, but neither thought less of the other. Indeed, they loved each other quite dearly. That didn't stop James and Marsha from being self-conscious about their paunches. James had a more noticeable paunch, but he managed to carry it with his rather tall height. Indeed, many people looked at him at saw a small mountain with nutmeg eyes and thick black hair. Marsha on the other hand was shorter, stockier, and had a crown of crimson curls that poofed out like peacock's feathers if she didn't keep it in check.
It was one evening, after Marsha had worked a 12, and James had worked a 10, that they sat staring at the screen, relaxing after the work and the drive, that Marsha finally spoke up.
"Jimmy," she said, looking up from her phone, "I'm bored."
James also tore his gaze from his phone, looking over at her from his old brown recliner.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
"Well, I want to spice things up." She replied.
"Like, sexually?" he asked, a slight frown on his face.
"Yes, sexually," she said, a tone of slight irritation in her voice.
James knew that tone well. It was the tone that accompanied working four twelves for a month straight, a tone of annoyance born from exhaustion. Normally when she got exhausted, he would buy her favorite wine and then spend an evening massaging her. James loved those evenings, even though he hated the fact that her work drove her to exhaustion so frequently.
"What are you thinking then, dear?" he asked. They had been together for two years now, living together in their cramped apartment for one, and in all that time, he had never told her of the porn he enjoyed reading and watching, the type that included women suspended from ropes in knots, of women on swings, of women with thick thighs that deserved worship.
Marsha was just as delinquent. She was nervous of how he'd view her if he found out that she enjoyed videos where men with beards of all types were bent over and fucked by a powerful woman in a strap-on, stories where a normal housewife was confronted by two men and then road their thick cocks until all involved collapsed in a sweaty, sticky pile of exhausted and satisfied limbs. But now she couldn't take it anymore. She had to say something.
It wasn't that she didn't enjoy sex with James. She did. He was a tender partner, a partner who seemed to worship every piece of her if he had it his way. He wasn't the most skilled she'd been with, nor did he last the longest, but it was James, and that made all the difference.
"I want to try some roleplay." she said.
James choked on the glass of water he'd been sipping. He'd tried roleplaying in the past with one of his exes, but it didn't work out very well for either party. To begin with his partner suggested a level of dirty talk and roughness that James was not comfortable with at the time, and it only got worse from there.
"Look, if you're not into it..." she began, a nervous quiver to her voice. She looked down, a blush spreading across her pale face. She brushed a loose strand of red hair from her face.
"No! That sounds fun!" James said. It was something he could revisit. His previous partner had been...unkind, whereas Marsha was a sweet woman, someone who made him feel needed and loved. He loved the salty taste of her skin after a long day at work, the sweet softness of her lips, the taste of her pussy. He loved to feel her around his head, feel her legs contract, feel her hands on his back. She was so tactile, so vibrant, so unlike his ex.
