Carol Duncan sighed heavily as she carried the large load of dirty clothes from their bedroom to their apartment's downstairs laundry room. Art was away playing tennis somewhere again, the second day in a row, forcing her to spend yet another weekend alone. This wasn't the way she'd imagined it when they talked of how happy they'd be once they were married and living out on their own. These days it seemed as if all she was was a slave, not a beautiful young housewife. Maybe she should have listened to her mother's warning about getting married so young. At 18 she could barely vote, and wasn't even old enough to drink in her own state yet. What had happened to all the fun she and Art used to have? He hardly ever paid attention to her anymore, and they almost never went out these days. Art was too busy playing tennis, and when he was home he was too tired to do anything. And they'd been so happy in the beginning.
Sighing again, Carol remembered how exciting their honeymoon had been. Always a good girl, Carol had managed somehow to remain a virgin until their wedding night, and she was so happy she had. The honeymoon, especially that first night, was everything she'd dreamed it would be. She adored having guilt free sex with her loving husband. Art had taken his time with her, not forcing himself on her until she was ready. It had hurt, at first, when he'd broken through her virgin cherry, but after that, and for the remainder of the week, sex had been glorious... wonderful... incredibly exciting.
And then the honeymoon ended. Art went back to work, traveling frequently, away from home for two or three days at a time while Carol was left with little more to do than watch TV soap operas or read romance novels, her favorites. Now that she'd experienced the real joys of sex, it was hard to go without it. Their lovemaking had awakened something deep inside her, and now that she knew how much fun "fucking" was, she wanted it all the time. With Art gone so much she'd even taken lately to resuming masturbating, something that made her feel immensely guilty afterward, as though she were cheating on Art somehow. But she just couldn't help it. Could she? And lately she kept getting these terribly naughty urges, especially when she masturbated, to do nasty things for excitement.
Like right now. The sudden wave of horniness that overtook Carol shocked her. She had reached the dimly lit laundry room, and was emptying out their dirty clothes when one of Art's soiled jock straps fell into her hands. Carol studied it, then, looking around to make sure no one else was there watching her, slowly brought the smelly jock up to her nose. She inhaled, deeply, letting the strong, acrid scent of Art's ball sweat jolt her senses. Suddenly her pussy was wet, very wet, and she had an intense desire to masturbate right there in the laundry room. Somehow, she managed to fight off the sensation, but when Art got home she was going to attack him. They hadn't fucked all weekend long, and she just HAD to have it soon or she'd go crazy.
"Hi babe, what's for dinner?" Art asked, breezing into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge. God he was handsome, his tall, lean athletic body glowing with a coating of sweat over his dark, even tan. She loved him so much, yet it seemed as though he hardly noticed her any more.
"Art, do you still think I'm pretty?" Carol asked, brushing back the locks of her long, curly blond hair from her face. She knew she didn't have breasts as big as Art liked, but she did have a great body, with lush thighs, great legs, and a terrific, tight ass to go with her sexy bedroom eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips. She also knew a lot of other men noticed her, even if Art didn't these days. Sometimes when she went out to read by the apartment complex pool she felt men staring at her, and although it made her feel guilty, she did have to admit it turned her on. Sometimes, in fact, it turned her on so much she would "accidentally" give the men a glimpse of her young, naked breasts by leaning down under the pretense of picking up her suntan lotion or something. causing her bikini top to fall away from her tits and expose them. Lately Carol found herself doing things like that quite often, and it bothered her enormously, but her urges to do things like that were so strong she couldn't resist them.
"Pretty?" Art asked, confused. "Well, sure, babe. Of course I do," he answered.
"Then why don't you pay more attention to me, sweetheart?" Carol purred, sliding up next to her husband, feeling the heat from his sweaty body.
"Geez, Carol, I do. All the time. Didn't I just buy you that nice flower vase you were asking for?" Art said, sounding hurt.
"Well yes, baby, you did, but I'm talking about... well... you know... sex," Carol said, the strong masculine scent from Art's body turning her on. She felt her pussy growing damp, and her nipples suddenly seemed to be made of steel. Although she had smallish breasts, barely filling her 34B cup bra, she did have nice large nipples, something Art had always said he loved.
"Oh baby, hey, look, you know I love you, but geez, Carol, we had to go three sets, with tie breakers in all three before we finally won. I'm just too fucking tired to fuck today, babe," Art grinned.
"Oh Art, please. I wish you wouldn't use that kind of language in front of me. You know I don't like it," Carol scowled.
"What, fuck? Well shit, Carol, I thought that's what you were talking about. Wasn't it?" Art asked, confused again.
"YES, Art, it is what I was talking about, but you don't have to be so crude about it. Oh never mind," Carol said, turning her back on him, walking over to the counter where she was preparing dinner.
"Geez, what's gotten into you lately," Art mumbled, leaving to take his shower.
"Not much," Carol whispered to herself. "Not much at all."
It was the next morning, a blue Monday, and Art had left for another three day business trip, trying as best he could to earn a living for them as an industrial products salesman. He earned a good living for his age, 22, but still, Carol missed him desperately when he was away.
"Might as well go sit by the pool again," she groused, pulling on her pink bikini, then grabbing her book bag containing her latest romance novel, sun tan oil, sun glasses and towel. It was a beautiful day, and she noticed that the pool was a little more crowded today than usual, especially for a Monday morning.
Selecting a chaise lounge chair near the deep end of the pool, away from the kiddies, Carol laid out her towel across the chair, then proceeded to put sun screen on her arms, legs, and stomach. As she rubbed the warm oil into her body, Carol felt the urge to reach down inside her bikini bottom and touch herself. Of course, she couldn't, but the urge was strong, and she knew she was going to have to masturbate when she went back inside. Perhaps because she was daydreaming about what it was going to feel like when she touched herself, his voice was doubly startling to her when it interrupted her thoughts.
"Need some help with that?" the man asked. Carol jumped, and he laughed, apologizing for scaring her.
"I... I didn't hear you sit down," Carol blushed, embarrassed. He was much older than she or Art, perhaps in his mid-forties, but still quite handsome, with a well toned body, rugged good looks, and friendly smile.