I was so horny.
All I wanted to do was get hammered, the way I liked it, the way I'd planned it, by my husband, on the couch, and then head to bed. I'd been ovulating all day at work and obviously couldn't take care of things there.
I'd counted away the hours, and then the minutes to when I could leave. I'd considered excusing myself to the ladies room and bringing myself to a quick orgasm on my lunch break. I even kept a little bullet vibrator in my bag for just such an occasion. But, it wasn't so much the big O that I wanted. I wanted semen.
I even took off a little bit early just to make sure we'd have a solid bank of time to do it, and then do it again if I wanted to, before bed. My ovulations have just never been satisfied with anything but a rough fuck and a shot of cum. Sorry to be so crude, but in the retelling of this story, I need to convey my state at the time, because it's important to know.
If the reader is the judge of the events, I need to tell my side of the story.
This was back in my 20s. My husband and I had gotten married early and even though he wasn't entirely aware, my plan was to get pregnant nice and early, too. Sort of, tick all the boxes.
I got home before him, took a shower, and made sure I wore something a little revealing just to ensure he took appropriate notice.
Don't get me wrong. He's a good boy. I could have walked around in a potato sack and told him it was time to do me and he happily would. He didn't need much in the way of encouragement. He still doesn't.
But when you're ovulating you like to preen a little bit, right?
I usually wax simply because I prefer it, so out of the shower I inspected myself to ensure that there were no stray hairs that needed attention prior to my night of dedicated dicking. As I'd assumed, clean as a whistle. I checked my naked form in the mirror approvingly.
I've always been petite, but with a little more junk in the trunk than most, and a nice pair of ta-ta's up top. Perfect little nipples that harden up when tickled, licked, or kissed. I keep myself trim, and I get looks and whistles and I'm pleased with that level of attention.
Everyone likes getting attention, right? Especially for something as primal as how sexually appealing you are.
Before I put my slightly-more-revealing clothes on, I thought I'd add a kinky little treat for The Hubs. On a whim weeks before, I'd purchased some stick-on nipple covers in the shape of big black X's that said "Lick Me." on them.
Those would knock his socks off. On they went.
I also put on a black mesh, double-strap g-string. Thanks to the bounce in my booty, hubby loves it when I wear anything with multiple straps because it accentuates what I've got to grip onto.
I wanted my stud ready to breed.
So, there I was, sexed up and counting down the minutes to when my husband was due. He'd texted and was still about 20 minutes away. I cursed his commute, the length of which I never really had a problem with until now.
It was at that moment I get a message from my friend, Mandy.
Mandy is... fun... exciting... a bit wild... a bit out of control... I knew her in highschool. We fell apart. Kind of got back together. She got pregnant in her later teens by her highschool sweetheart, Jack, and got an Instant Family with twins. I had contact with Jack occasionally, but never really a relationship with him.
He'd gone from highschool sweetheart to broken up with, to back on, to off again, and so the story goes. Apparently, family life didn't overly suit either one of them, at least not together. They tried, but you kind of knew the next break up was around the corner, and at some point, likely a complete separation. Which was fine. Given that we weren't "couple friends" we wouldn't lose much if he dropped out of the picture. Mandy wasn't even really a mutual friend between my husband and me.
She was just Mandy, my friend.
Jack was cute enough. I wouldn't cross the globe for him, but he was a solid 7 out of 10. Not really my type. A bit taller than my husband, but also a bit lankier. Knowing what I knew about Mandy and her preferences, and what I'd heard about tall guys and their
big
hands, I kind of figured he was packing.
But, like with most girls [sorry to disappoint the male readers] whether or not we love you or respect you is far more important than how big your ding-dong is.
That case was proven with my message from Mandy:
Mandy // I've left Jack. For good. I have to. Last night was horrible. I'm coming over with the twins. I need you!
*Sigh.* Mandy... Fun. Exciting... Also has horrible timing, and is pretty self-centered. This night was not going to go as I planned.
My husband would get home in 20 minutes.
Mandy would get to my home in about 15, and she'd be trailing her two adorable [but at this point incredibly inconvenient] twins with her, and there was a whole afternoon ahead of us.
This girl just wasn't going to get the loving she'd wanted until bedtime. This was irritating, but doable. I'd lasted all day. I could last a little longer. I changed out of my sexier clothes, into some comfy ones and started getting supper for the five of us ready.
But I kept my nipple stickers and g-string on.
***
"He's such a fucking asshole! I am SO, over him... but I love him SO much. What am I going to do?? Where am I going to go? What have I done! I'm going to have to go live with my parents!"
It had been going on like this for a couple hours.
When Mandy arrived she sort of had it together, but it was an act. She'd been staying bright and upbeat for the twins.
After supper, the twins had baths and we got them put to sleep. Since then, Mandy and I had been at the kitchen table, with her releasing all the emotions she'd pent up all day. Hubby tried to hang in there, but without her being his friend too, he really didn't have much to contribute. Off he went to the TV room to watch some Netflix.
Netflix that I should have been "& Chilling" to!
I sighed internally as outwardly I attempted to console and "there there" Mandy, but I was distracted. She didn't care. As I said, she's a touch self-centered, and I'd seen her like this before. She just needed to very dramatically pour it all out, have a good cry, and then go to bed herself.
Whereupon, I could get hammered.
"I'm going to be soooo lonely," she sobbed. "When will I ever just be held by a man, again? Just held??"
More sobbing.
As further minutes passed into hours, I came to the realization that something might be truly different this time in the break-up. I mean, she wasn't stopping the outpouring of what appeared to be genuine grief.
By this time, I was no longer thinking of my hammering. I was just thinking about my cozy, comfortable bed, a quick orgasm and sleep. I still had work the next day. Hubby had the day off. He could last all night if he needed to.
Then, it hit me.
I needed to get him to "take over" the consoling. I could then go to bed, masturbate [because anything is better than nothing] and go to sleep.
He couldn't act as the faithful friend offering sympathy and care, of course. But, he could do something else.
He could distract her.
"Honey," I started, very kindly and softly, because by now she was weeping, "Honey, I think you need a cuddle."
"I know!!" She practically screamed this in her crying. Obviously, I'd struck a nerve.
"Here's what we're going to do. Come with me... C'mon..."
I got her up and led her by the hand toward the TV room. She'd become a dazed, whimpering mess, which I was grateful for. She was mostly quiet. Much as I wanted to pass her off to my husband, I didn't actually want to disrupt his evening. If she could just pipe down long enough to fall asleep, we'd all end up winners.
Except for my womb, but that's another story.
I brought Mandy to the entrance of the den and stood there, and he paused what he was watching.
"Babe," I started.
"Uh, yeah...?" He sounded befuddled.
"Mandy needs to be held." I was trying to make this quick and easy. I had a date with a vibrator.
"Held? What do you mean?"
Honestly... why he didn't simply understand what I wanted was frustrating, but I tried to be patient.
"She needs to be held in the safe arms of a strong man."
"Okay? What do I do?"
Finally, my guy was asking intelligent, helpful questions.
"Just lean up against the arm of the couch, let her sit in between your legs with her back to your chest, wrap your arms around her, and hold her. She'll just sit quietly and watch your show, or she might sleep. She's exhausted."
