She wasn't sure when it happened, but at some point, Avery knew that the passion had gone out. Maybe it was smothered out by weekends of being the "Team Mom", a cooler full of fruit snacks and Powerade loaded in the back of a 2017 Rav-4. Maybe it was the gradual slide from 2:00am late nights at dingy dive bars to "rewarding herself" with that glass of wine at 9:15, already in her yoga pants. Twelve years of marriage later, and she felt a whole lot less like the firecracker she had been in her youth.
She knew it wasn't that she had lost her physical appeal. Daily afternoons on the elliptical at Planet Fitness had kept her body fit, and she was very aware that multiple sets of eyes turned her direction when she bent down to get that last pack of frozen waffles from the bottom shelf in Kroger. But lately, it seemed like those were the only eyes that were on her.
There had been a time a few years ago where she thought she just wasn't doing enough. Maybe if she instigated things just a little more often, it would ignite the spark. One night before bed, she slipped into her closet, left behind her sweatpants and faded charity t-shirt, and strolled out wearing nothing but her stockings. She had taken extra care to trim her body hair down to just the little landing strip he had once mentioned that he loved. That first time, it worked like a charm. He nearly threw his phone across the room in a hurry to show she commanded his full attention.
She wanted to show him exactly what kind of wife she could be, as she knelt down on his side of the bed and took his hardening manhood into her mouth. Her tongue swept circles around his tip as her hand moved patiently up and down his shaft. She was determined and focused, never moving faster than she needed to, keeping him right where she wanted. Soon, his hands moved from her shoulders to the back of her head, fingers intertwining between the thick black curls that adorned her. His hips began to buck against her, and she held herself steady. "Fuck baby, you do that so good." He panted the words between shallow breaths, his climax building and building.
She pulled her head away, just for a moment. "Whatever you want to do to me, I'm yours, daddy. I just want to make you feel good." Before he could respond, her mouth was back in its place, her head now moving faster than his hands could even keep up with. She felt the muscles in his quads tighten, and his fingers now gripped her hair tightly, almost pulling. God, she missed that feeling. "Oh fuck baby, please don't stop, please don't stop". She moved one hand down between her legs, teasing her own clit as his praises fell out of his lips. Suddenly, his hands gripped the edge of the bed and she was tempted to pull her mouth away, to feel the reward splash against her skin.
Instead, she pushed her head further into his lap, letting him unload all his desire into her mouth and on her tongue. To be honest, she hated the taste of it. But she wanted to remind him how submissive she could be. She swallowed it without so much as a wince. As she looked up from her knees, her mascara smeared and hair askew, her husband drained and out of breath, she knew she had done it. This would remind him exactly what kind of woman he had married. This would surely wake him up.
They didn't have sex again for two weeks after that, and instead Avery masturbated in bed next to him each night after he fell asleep.
---
It was during one of those "together but so far apart" moments that the opportunity for a change presented itself.
Avery was awake in bed, her husband turned away and snoring, while one hand toyed lazily against her skin under the covers. She wasn't fully masturbating, but she certainly wasn't not masturbating either. A notification interrupted her scrolling through Bellesa, alerting her to the fact that @judethelegaleagle had liked one of her photos.
There was something familiar about the name, but more than anything she was curious about what photo had drawn their attention. Lately all she had posted was pictures of her kids doing virtual school and a Starbucks latte, nothing that would draw a stranger's eye.
Instead, clicking the notification, she found herself looking at a beach selfie from last April's family vacation to Key West. She remembered the trip well, if only for the feeling of constant disappointment.
The third night of their trip, her sister Nancy had taken the boys so that she and Derek could have a date night of their own. Avery wore a little black dress that clung to her body and stopped at mid thigh, and black stilettos with a painted red bottom. They weren't the most expensive, but they looked the part. Underneath, she wore a thin black matching set, capped with small gold studs along the underwire and waistband. She felt like a starlet, making her debut among the elite.
In the bathroom of La Cocinita that night, she stared at her reflection, and reveled in it. She had aged well, and turning 38 had done nothing to slow the libido that defined her wild-child twenties. This trip had been full of tension and stress, screaming kids and forgotten beach-chairs, but tonight was their chance to get back to the fun of it. Struck with an idea, she slipped off her underwear and snapped a quick photo, dangling them off her finger.
"I think I might leave them off..."
She attached the photo to a text message addressed to "Dear Husband", and squirmed in anticipation for his reply.
A too-long moment later, his reply blipped across the screen of her phone.
"Hot. The waitress asked if we wanted dessert, I ordered you flan."
They had sex that night, back in their hotel room, with the lights off. It was fine, but only just fine.
---
So now, edging herself slightly, she looked at her smile, her hands posed on her hips, and the one shoulder green bikini that she originally thought showed a bit too much.
She can see why a stranger might like it.
She clicked on the user name. Something about his face was familiar, but she couldn't place it either. Was he a guy from the gym? One of Derek's fraternity brothers, perhaps? As she scrolled through his photos, she found one captioned "Throwback to Burke High baseball!" The pieces clicked into place-- Jude McElroy. They graduated in the same year, he sat behind her in senior English and he slipped her an Advil when she came to school hungover once. Other than that, they really hadn't interacted much. There wasn't much overlap between the city councilman's son who played second base and the slightly goth Cuban girl who sang second alto. At least not in Omaha.
But tonight, she wanted to play.
"You're scrolling a bit too far in the past to be liking photos, you know."
Typing...
The words appeared and disappeared a few times before his response popped up.
"Sorry, I was trying to come up with a convincing excuse. I've got nothing. Should I just beg for forgiveness instead?"
"I'd really prefer you didn't beg. It's not a good look on you."
"Good, I don't beg well. Should we talk about things that are a good look on you, instead?"
"Oh, I know exactly what you think is a good look on me. Judging by recent history, something green and skimpy seems to be your choice."
"What can I say, you make it look good."
