Authors Note:
This is an edited version of this story. It was originally posted in error without even a proof read. I would like to thank my editor for all her help and the extra effort she put in to make me look good. So thank you Adetaildiva.
Also, I had a friend read it to see why the initial votes were so low besides the obvious spelling and grammatical errors. The only thing she had a problem with was the harshness of the ending. I've softened it. I would like to thank her again but she is no longer with us.
Happy reading and please comment whether you like the story or not. I can only grow as a writer if my readers let me know what I'm doing wrong.
TxRad
*
Laura would be forty in a few days. The fact that her husband of twenty-two years just walked out the door with a suitcase in his hand had nothing to do with her age. The age of his twenty-three-year-old secretary had more to do with it than anything.
Laura sat in the middle of the living room floor and thought about suicide. Then she threw back her head and laughed. Just why should she give the asshole the satisfaction, flashed through her brain, clearing her head.
Slowly, she lay back, flat on the floor, and stared up at the flat, white ceiling. Her mind was pacing like a caged animal but she was strangely calm. That's when she realized that she hadn't shed a single tear. This both surprised and shocked her.
After twenty-two years, there should be something to cry about,
she thought sharply.
Then the realization that she really didn't feel anything one way or the other flooded her mind and a single tear coursed slowly down her cheek.
That says a whole lot about my life,
doesn't it,
she thought, angry with herself. What made her angry was the question of what the hell that little twenty-two-year-old had that she didn't?
Laura lifted her hands and brushed them across the front of her silk blouse, barely grazing the tips of her nipples. As always, her nipples jumped to attention and a tingle coursed through her small breasts.
Her breasts might be small but they were just as firm and sensitive as they had been when she was a teenager. She brushed her fingertips over the hard pebbles again and felt herself shiver as the tingling spread.
She teased her nipples a moment longer and then moved her hands down to caress her stomach.
Well, laying down it was flat,
she thought. It was softer than it had been all those years ago but it was still fairly firm and, except for the little soft swell below her navel, it wasn't in bad shape.
"Hell, let the little secretary have three kids and see how her tummy looked afterwards," Laura said out loud.
She sighed and moved her hands back up to caress her breasts again. Damn, that felt good. How long had it been since he'd done that? Six months, maybe eight. Not since the new secretary had come to work at his office.
Laura unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse and slipped her right hand under the satiny cloth to caress her bare left breast directly. A soft whimpering moan escaped her lips as she pinched the hard bud where it was perched on the puffy cone of her areola.
Damn, she hadn't realized how horny she was until this very second. She had felt this subtle, almost itchy, feeling for nearly a month now and it suddenly dawned on her what it was - she was horny as hell.
That's easy enough to take care of
, she thought as her hands caressed their way down along her body. She avoided coming close to her sex and ended up with her hands flat on top of her upper thighs.
She lightly stroked her thighs through the thin material of her long skirt. She flexed her hips up and back, feeling the strap on her thong rubbing in the cleft of her ass and pulling tighter against her mound and sex.
A shiver ran up and down her spine as she slowly gathered the skirt up with her hands, feeling it slide slowly up her legs. As the hem passed her knees, she flexed her hips again, the back of the thong riding deeper into the cleft of her ass. The hem of the skirt caused a tickling sensation along the tops of her thighs as it slowly moved along.
Why weren't people made with four hands, she wondered, one set to caress her breasts, one hand for her clit, and one to tease and stroke her opening? It would feel so good. A little quiver ran up and down her body at the thought. With the skirt bunched up around her waist, she could feel the air conditioning on her hips and thighs and the dampness of her thong.
She shifted her thighs, clenching and unclenching, marveling at her own wetness. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly she could get so wet once she got started. Getting started, now that had been the problem, well, it wasn't a problem at the moment.
As she lay there, suddenly her mind asked, just what the hell she thought she was doing. Laura started to get up but quickly changed her mind. Why should she get up? Why shouldn't she lay here and�
Her mind shied away from the rest of the thought. She forced herself to think the word - masturbate. It was her body and she could do with it, as she wanted. After all, who was there to say different. Who was there to care?
Throughout her childhood and marriage, she had held on to the idea that sex was a special and wonderful thing shared by two special and wonderful people.
Well, that theory was sure shot to hell and back, wasn't it,