Janice heard his footsteps before the telltale shadow in the hallway signaled his approach. She unconsciously tugged at the covers to pull them up to her neck, placing her book on her chest to hold the covers in place. She peered over the top of the book to see if he would enter the bedroom.
Eric came through the door but never made eye contact with his wife. As he began to undress, Janice marked her place in the book and turned to place it on the bedside table. She lay on her side, her back facing the nearly naked man.
Eric flicked off the light and crawled under the covers. Janice knew the next fifteen minutes would determine whether he'd do it or not. She clenched her eyes shut as if that would keep him away. Her knees were pulled up nearly to her stomach.
At first they lay together in the darkness without movement. Then Janice felt him rolling, followed by a touch of his hand on her hip. This wasn't always a foreshadowing of what would come next, but her heart sank at the possibility.
She wore her normal lightweight nightshirt with panties underneath. Eric's hand pulled up the nightshirt until he felt her bare skin. Then his hand slid down onto her stomach. Janice wondered if he could sense her muscles tightening. This was how he always started. Always.
When Eric began to raise his hand toward her breasts, she wanted to speak. She wanted to stop him. But she couldn't form the words; she couldn't make herself say it. Still, the words screamed inside her.
There would be nothing said. There was never anything said.
Eric found her breast. He squeezed it, played with the nipple and compressed the tit against his wife's chest. She never moved; never made a sound. As he continued to play with the breast, Eric pushed his body against Janice's. She felt his cock touch her ass. He wore boxers, but the hardness of the cock was obvious.
She could stop this, but what were the consequences? Eighteen years of marriage hung in the balance, Janice believed. She knew him. If she made him stop there would be anger, blame and confrontation. Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow and the next day. There'd be yelling and accusations.
Janice didn't know this from experience. She had never stopped him. But she knew.
Eric pulled up her nightshirt underneath the covers. It rested above her breasts now. He pulled the covers down until her shoulders were bare and then her chest. He put his hand on her exposed breast and pulled a little harder, at the same time beginning to roll onto her.
Janice sighed and rolled onto her back.
His mouth instantly covered the tip of the breast closest to him. He licked the nipple and then took more of her into his mouth. He pushed up the nightshirt until it was completely out of the way, nearly around Janice's neck.
She got no satisfaction from his actions. In her books the women moaned and writhed on the bed when men played with their breasts. Janice felt nothing inside.
Eric's hand slid inside her panties. He would play with her clit for a minute, then he'd put a finger inside her vagina. Janice would be slightly wet, an involuntary reaction that she would appreciate in another couple minutes.
He was on top of her, taking off her panties. She allowed it to happen. She bent her legs in whatever direction was necessary for it to happen. And then she waited as he took off his boxers.
Janice could only barely make out the details of his body in the darkness. Nothing about him was discernable in great detail. He was simply a shape; another being in the same room as her.
Eric lowered himself onto his wife, rubbing his erect cock over her pussy. She spread her legs for him, willing to do anything to speed up the process. Tension took control of her body, brought on by the distinct possibility that this would hurt. It didn't always, but in recent months her body didn't consistently provide the lubrication it used to.
Janice felt the tip of Eric's cock at the entrance to her vagina. She held her breath. Eric pushed and Janice's tiny hole began to spread. She shifted until finding the most comfortable angle.
He was inside her. It was a relatively painless night and she was grateful. Now all she had to do was wait patiently.
###
Janice Woodruff was a forty one year old mother of two. Her kids were her life. She liked her job as a sales rep, but it didn't consume her. She always made time for the kids' after-school activities and summertime programs. All the while, she tried to avoid the label of soccer mom. She had her own hobbies, like golf, which she fit into her schedule as regularly as possible.
Men weren't waiting in line for a chance to have an affair with her. But that was more because of her actions than her looks. Despite her cute face and sensuously curved body, she never flirted with the soccer dads or her golfing partners. Her clothing was conservative and rarely revealing.
It was very possible that Janice Woodruff was about to dissolve into oblivion if something didn't change. This fact was not lost on the intelligent, self-aware woman herself. In the year following her fortieth birthday she had considered her place in life and especially her relationship with her husband. She knew it was likely he didn't notice any change in her. In fact, it would have shocked her if he had.
Eric seemed to be in a world of his own, with Janice simply a fixture. Whether she came or went didn't seem to matter. Of course, some of this was her own fault. But she was not into rocking the boat.
###
On a warm summer day, Janice found herself sitting in the clubhouse having lunch after a round of golf with her best friend Lisa.
"You played great today," Lisa said between bites of her grilled cheese sandwich. "Were you taking your frustrations out on the golf ball?"
"What frustrations?" Janice asked.
Lisa laughed. "That's right. You get sex three times a week. You're the least frustrated person I know."
Janice looked at her friend to see if she was kidding. "Don't remind me."
"I swear, Jan. You're the only woman I know who complains about too much sex."
"It's not the amount of sex," Janice confided. "It's the sex."
"There's no such thing as bad sex," Lisa said.
"You haven't been with Eric."
This time they both laughed, having held this same conversation many times in the recent past. Janice was able to tell Lisa almost everything, knowing it would be kept confidential and be treated with the concern it deserved.
"No, I haven't. Are you offering him to me?" Lisa said playfully.
"I wouldn't do that to my best friend."
Lisa was about to change the subject when she noticed Janice watching somebody on the other side of the room. She glanced over and saw the woman her friend was inspecting. It was Mary Pickens, a new member of the women's league, and perhaps the most attractive. Mary wasn't pretty like a model, just perfectly built with perfect hair and a perfect face. She was about their same age but clearly hadn't aged the same.
"That's Mary. Have you met her?" Lisa asked.
Janice turned as if caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing. "Ah, no. Have you?"
"Yeah. We golfed together last week. She's really good."
"I could have guessed." Janice's sarcastic tone made Lisa smile.
