The thump of her feet against the rubber belt repeated in Rachel's ears as she ran on the treadmill. Sweat beaded on her forehead and dripped down her back, causing her baggy t-shirt to stick to her skin, around the straps of her sports bra.
She wasn't going particularly fast, but it had been so long since she'd properly worked out that breaking a sweat was easy. Her legs were aching and her breath was ragged, but it felt
good
to be properly active again.
After Christmas was over, she'd resolved to shift some extra weight and decided that enrolling at the hotel's gym was her best bet. It was easy enough to stay for an extra hour after she finished working, and her mother in law didn't mind having the kids for just a bit longer. The facilities were good, and there was a good variety of equipment, even if it was a small space.
Just as
he'd
said.
It had been over two months since her tryst with the man from the hotel bar. She hadn't seen him since, and never got his name or his number. She didn't even know what to call him.
Rachel remembered him, though. Every intricate detail, from the blade of his jaw to the tips of his eyelashes.
Thinking of him brought back a memory of his voice; heavy with lust as he pleasured her.
"I love fucking hot mums. I love turning them into my little sluts."
Rachel imagined the rough feeling of his tongue on her sex and his eyes, glazed with desire, as he took her. The rub of her gym leggings against her, as she ran, started to draw her attention to the heat inside and she felt herself start to grow wet at the memory.
She didn't know when (or even how) she would see him again, but Rachel knew that whenever it was, it couldn't come soon enough.
She needed him.
Needed the rough curling of his fingers and the nip of his teeth. Needed the intoxicating scent of his aftershave. Needed the itch and bristle of his beard on her thighs as he ate her pussy. Needed the delicious way his cock pumped inside her that made her squirt all over him.
Rachel had tried to replicate the effects when she was on her own in the shower, but nothing she did filled her in the same way or reached the same places. Thinking of their affair as she masturbated was enough to send her into convulsions, but the quality of the orgasm just wasn't the same.
Over Christmas, Stephen had tried his best (for what that was worth) when she had indulged him with sex. But, even though he was roughly the same size and shape, he just didn't manage to scratch the itch. Now that she knew what was possible, she resented him even more for not finding those places in her.
She tried to lead him, telling him what felt good and how she wanted it, but he ignored her. Stephen did what felt good to Stephen and, as per usual, the encounter ended with her unfulfilled.
Her frustration was compounded by how little he helped out over the holiday. Rachel wrapped the presents; Rachel got up with the kids when they woke up early; Rachel cooked, and entertained the kids while Stephen socialized and drank with family. On Boxing Day he'd been so drunk that he had passed out on the sofa at 6pm, leaving her to tidy up and bustle her family out of the door, before putting the kids to bed.
New Year's was a wash as well.
She had bought and set up the fireworks in their garden, and thought to look up a clip of the previous year's television broadcast to play to the kids early (so they could "see the new year" but still get to bed at a reasonable time). Meanwhile, Stephen only lit the fireworks and took all of the
"Wow, thank you daddy!"
s while she just sat back.
Rachel paused her run and stood, breathing heavily, on the border of the treadmill while the bed continued to whirl under her spread legs.
She reminded herself that it hadn't been all bad.
Christmas with her kids was always a complete joy -- even more so now that they were both old enough to at least interact with everything, even if the toddler didn't fully understand. Spending time with family was lovely. Stephen, for all his bedroom faults and laziness, was actually really good with the kids. They'd played board games with their oldest after the toddler had gone to bed, and laughed when she got things wrong. The three of them cuddled on the sofa and watched the new Wallace and Gromit film, before sending her off to bed. Stephen had given Rachel the Ted Baker Pink Blush Body Soufflé, which always left her skin so smooth and smelling delicious.
But then he'd practically begged for sex, leaving Rachel completely turned off and dispassionate. And then there was that one comment...
Rachel had been rushed off her feet all morning on New Year's Day: tidying up from the night before; getting the kids up, fed and dressed, while he slept in. She hadn't even had time to have her own breakfast. There was a tin of Quality Street, mostly empty, on the kitchen counter. Deciding that she was still on holiday, and better to have one herself than let the kids consume more sugar, she unwrapped a Strawberry Cream and popped it into her mouth.
Stephen had come downstairs and seen her eating it.
"Really? Chocolate for breakfast?" Stephen said, with a smirk.
Rachel saw the judgement and knew that, even though he hadn't said any more, he was indicating her figure. She felt ashamed and her ears had turned red in embarrassment.
After the embarrassment, however, came the anger. Who was he to tell her what she could and couldn't eat? She was already self-conscious enough about her body, to the point she didn't even like to be naked in front of him. She didn't need him to tell her that she was heavier than she used to be. She knew that.
Then Rachel remembered the man from the bar.
"This is what a real woman looks like,"
he'd said.
"You're gorgeous. You're made to be fucked."
The memory stirred something in her and she'd excused herself to go to the toilet. Once upstairs, and separated from the kids and Stephen by two baby gates, Rachel locked herself in the bathroom and started to masturbate to the memory of her affair.
Rachel thought about how roughly he'd treated her; how he'd spanked her and pulled her hair and pushed his thumb deep into her ass while he fucked her.
She stuffed two fingers into her pussy and sawed them desperately in and out, while rubbing her clit. Before she came, while she was still on the brink, she pulled her fingers out and forced one up her butt, while still attacking her clit. As she did, she'd felt dirty and naughty, and the feeling tipped her over the edge.
Pushing the memory of her fingers to the back of her mind, Rachel jumped down into the treadmill and continued to run.
That's enough of that,
she thought.
