©January 2002 by Bob Peale
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Author's Note:
This story was originally distributed as 6 chapters.
It may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author.
This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached, as long as no charge is made for it and it isn't changed in any way. If it is archived or displayed, it is done so with the understanding that the author will have unrestricted access to the archive or posting.
Please address all feedback, inquiries, marriage proposals, etc. to the author.
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Beverly rolled over and reached out sleepily to her husband's side of the bed. In that place between waking and sleeping she registered that it was empty…again. Groaning, she raised her head and looked at the clock: 11:23pm. It didn't even feel warm – he'd never come to bed. She listened for sounds of him somewhere in the house. Nothing – he'd worked another double shift.
Intellectually, she understood that Paul had to work this hard. It had been 8 months since Bev had been laid off, without so much as a "Thanks for your contribution". To fill the gap Paul had started picking up extra shifts at night, often doing work totally different than his normal job. He never complained about the increased burden, but Bev could see that it was starting to take its toll on him, both physically and mentally.
Unfortunately her intellect was at odds with her emotions. Ever since she'd lost her job, Bev felt broken, like it was something she'd done that had led to it. The truth was, the division had been dissolved; only the very senior people had found positions with the parent company. All of the low and mid level personnel were let go with one week's pay.
She'd turned to sex to get validation, trying to prove her worth by bringing her husband pleasure. Of course with his schedule and the economic gloom hanging over them, sex was the last thing on his mind. Initially, he at least participated halfheartedly, but over the last few months she was lucky if he even moved, choosing instead to just lay there and let her do what she wanted. A banana had more life.
What made it even worse was that, as her sex life with her husband deteriorated, Bev's sex drive increased a hundredfold. It got so bad that she was now masturbating 3 or 4 times a day to relieve the near constant pressure.
The Internet provided an outlet. At first her surfing centered on job searches and special interest websites. Over time, she stumbled onto the wonderful world of erotica, starting first with story sites and progressing to bulletin boards and chat rooms. From there she proceeded to chat programs (first text then video) where she could connect with plenty of other people with overactive libidos.
The beauty of the online erotic community was that men outnumbered women 5 to 1. She had her pick of men who wanted to be the object of her fantasies. At any one time she was carrying on 5 or 6 cyber affairs, moving on when someone no longer "did it" for her.
Every man was different; some were more attractive than she'd ever seen in real life, others had cocks that made her salivate just to watch, while others still were willing to perform all manner of sex act while she watched with rapt attention.
Of course, over time, she started to reciprocate, displaying herself on cam and bringing her self to orgasm for the viewing pleasure of others. On several occasions she'd watched a couple perform and that had been really hot, too. Playing online gradually consumed her - if a day went by without it, Bev felt physically ill.
The next morning there was at least evidence that Paul had been home. Pajamas were balled up on the floor next to the bed and the air smelled of soap and hot water. She dragged herself out of bed and got ready. For Christmas their parents had pooled their money and sprung to have the inside of the house painted, and the painters were supposed to show up today. Bev's ranch style house hadn't been painted since they'd bought it 7 years ago, and in truth it was starting to look a little run down. Maybe a new paint job was what they both needed to lift their spirits.
She'd just pulled on her panties when she heard a loud knock. It wasn't even 8:00am yet; it had to be the painters, but who the hell ever heard of a contractor coming early? She grabbed a housedress out of the closet and slipped it on over her head, running a hand repeatedly through her short blonde hair as she ran to the front door.
She yanked it open to find three earnest and sober looking men standing on her stoop. Two were definitely older – Bev guessed mid to late 40's - and one was probably nearer Bev's age, around 35. They wore the traditional painter's outfit: white t-shirt, white denim pants, work boots, and caps. They were all shorter than Bev, but at 5'11" she was used to towering over people.
"Mrs. Matthews?" one of the older men asked.
She nodded. He licked his lips nervously.
"Ma'am, we're from Cudgins Painters." He seemed to have trouble meeting her eyes. "I'm Ryan, and this is Chris," he said, gesturing to the other older man. "The other fellow there, that's Ryan, too. Most people just call him Junior – no relation."
He snickered at the inside joke, like he probably did every time he told it. Bev smiled politely and opened the door wider, stepping back to admit them. Ryan, the one who'd done all the talking, had the sides of his head shaved military-close, the stubble mostly black with a smattering of gray. His eyes were set far apart and continued to flit around nervously, like he was afraid he'd be caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing. He had a weak jaw that had never been rugged, and his body was the type that had seen its best days, but looked like it might be struggling to hold on to some semblance of shape and vigor despite the onset of middle age.
Chris was a different story. Shorter than the others, the sides of his head were clean-shaven, and Bev suspected that the rest of his head was the same. His face was square with so little visible hair that at first it looked like he didn't even have any eyebrows. Upon closer inspection Bev was able to discern faint white blonde wisps above deep set green eyes that were also jumping around frantically. His cheekbones were prominent and his nose slightly bent, like maybe he'd been on the losing end of his share of bar fights in his youth, although Bev couldn't see how. His body was compact but well muscled, his chest and abs firm and obviously developed even through his t-shirt. He stood with the easy grace of someone who was used to being athletic, and despite their obvious age difference Bev could not help noticing how attractive he was.
