Lisa sighed as she watched her husband Jack pull out of their driveway and speed off toward his "Boys Night Out", which was scheduled religiously every Tuesday night. She was sighing because Jack was average, her life was average and she did not know a way to change the course this "average" decline in her marriage.
Lisa was not going to be on the cover of Playboy anytime soon, as she was now 33 years old, but she kept herself fit with a gym membership, and her breasts were still pert and her ass still firm after 10 years of marriage. She was somewhat tall, at 5'10", with shoulder length brown hair, and she was as lithe and lean now as she was at 18. Jack, on the other hand, was letting himself go, watching too much TV and drinking too much beer. He was approaching 30 pounds overweight and there wasn't much spark left in the plugs. She had sex with Jack about twice a month, more out of a sense of duty than anything else. Sex was standard, and although Jack was a good husband, she dreamt of other men -REAL men who could satisfy her. She, of course, knew this was an unrealizable fantasy, as her strict Catholic upbringing would never allow her to actually cheat on him. But she did keep a diary, in which she detailed her imagined sexual exploits with strangers, friends and co-workers. She went to confession each month and told the priest of these desires and how she longed to be rid of them. No matter how much penance or guilt she incurred, however, she could not stop thinking about her average life, her average husband and her fantasy of changing all of it.
As Jack's car disappeared down the street, and as her sigh subsided, Lisa noticed, as usual, that her heart rate had increased. It felt like more blood was flowing to her head and nipples and she felt her body growing warm, thinking of the time she was about to spend with herself, the only person that had ever satisfied her in her life.
She took the stairs two at a time and reached the bedroom. She closed the door and drew a warm bath in the adjoining bathroom. After soaking for 20 minutes in the suds filled water, she rose and returned to the bedroom. Lisa reclined on the bed, but only after extracting her 7 inch pink, plastic dildo (which she had purchased at a novelty store a year earlier) from underneath her nightgown in the bedside table (where her diary was also kept - safe because Jack simply would never look there).
She felt her nipples stiffen as the air conditioning struck her bath-warmed skin, and she turned the vibrator on low speed. She had turned off all of the lights in the bedroom, and only the dim glow of a bulb in the walk-in closet illuminated her body as she began tracing circles with the tip of the vibrator around her hardening nipples. She heard the distant hum of the vibrator's motor as her mind slipped away to a place where she was dressed in leather, sitting on a bar in a motorcycle joint spreading her legs slightly as a rough, bearded biker ran his hand along the inside of her thigh. She matched the man's movements with the vibrator, caressing her inner thighs, feeling her wetness build, as she clenched her thighs around her hand, holding the vibrator near her pussy. She arched her back, feeling the vibrations purr through her body, her nipples stiff, her eyes closed, her mind in a far off place. She began panting lightly as she increased the speed of the plastic cock and ran it over the lips of her pussy, twisting her hips and opening her legs to allow full access as the biker's hand was now moving up closer to her pussy, his thumb nudging her clit.
