Bernadette sat at the desk in her small bedroom, trying to focus on her work. Exams for her MA in English Literature were rapidly approaching, and she had a lot to do, if she didn't want to mess up her grades on the final stretch.
Anticipating the heat of the day, she had thrown on a light summer dress. Nothing underneath. The sun was strong already, and every additional layer of clothing would only add to her discomfort later on.
She had the house to herself this weekend. Her parents had gone away, and she had set her alarm early to get in as much time with her books as possible.
When she made the decision to go back to college two years ago, moving back in with her parents seemed sensible. No rent, the fridge was always full, and being away from the distractions of the city made studying a lot easier.
To be fair, she had only few regrets.
The biggest one concerned her sex life, which, for the past two years had been virtually non-existent. Having sex in her parents' house just wasn't an option.
Not that she was seeing anyone, anyways. Her last "steady" boyfriend had been Matt Whittaker, during her Senior year in High School, an eternity ago. She had broken up with him just before she went away to college that summer.
Living on her own, she had discovered hookups and one night stands as her favorite way of satisfying her needs. In the almost ten years of living alone, she had been a very active member of the local clubbing and party scene, which provided her with ample opportunity for quick, uncomplicated, no strings attached sex.
Back then, she went out every Friday night, sometimes Saturdays, too. Not so much for dancing or drinking. That came as a bonus. She went out for sex.
The hunt excited her, the adventure, the prowl. She was quite good at getting what she wanted: a hard cock in her pussy, and no need to look after the man that was attached to it for any time longer than necessary. She couldn't remember when she had last gone home after a night out without being fucked.
She even developed a little ritual to get ready for her adventures.
She would start preparing in the afternoon, by selecting the correct outfit. It took some time to carefully choose what she would wear to attract the perfect guy. Usually, she pictured the horny hunk who would to have his way with her later that night. She liked well-built men. Muscles excited her.
Thinking about what her chosen one would do with her would usually get her a little bit wet, and sometimes, if the itch in her cunt got too much, she used her fingers to give her temporary relief.
Once she had her outfit sorted, it was time to shower and shave. She liked to keep her body as hairless as possible. Armpits, legs, pussy - she kept them as smooth as they were on the day she was born. She even shaved her forearms. She had fairly dark body hair, and found the dark fluff on her arms irritating.
Most days, she was hot, horny and ready to be fucked, before she even arrived at the club. Once she had found her man, and made sure he wanted exactly what she wanted, she would let him take over. He'd pick the time, the place, he'd pick the pace. All she had to do was stoke his fire. Keep him horny. Wait.
She liked it instant, hard and fast. No frills. On many occasions, she ended up getting fucked in the club toilet or in the backseat of a car. Once or twice, they hadn't even made it to the car, and she had been done bent over the hood, in plain sight of everyone who cared to watch. She had come especially hard on these occasions.
After moving in with her parents, she tried going out once or twice, but it hadn't been the same. The small town didn't provide the anonymity of the city, and there really wasn't anywhere to go, not counting the sleazy bars at the Interstate ramp. In Bernadette's book they most certainly didn't count.
She'd been there once, and decided she would rather use her fingers forever, than allowing herself to be touched by one of the filthy, drunken low-lifes with absolutely no respect for anything, not even for themselves, that seemed to live there.
As a result, in the last two years, she had gotten laid exactly four times.
The first time was at the opening of the new car dealership in town, shortly after she had moved back home. Her parents had made her go, the owner was an old family friend. The event was boring and she was horny, so she played her usual game with the owner's 19-year old son, and they ended up fucking in the staff bathroom. It took her a while to make it clear to the poor boy that she wasn't interested in seeing him again, but he eventually got the message.
The second time was with a lecturer who had given a talk in the local library. The topic had interested her, and they ended up having a very good discussion afterwards. They got a few drinks at a bar, and she went back to his hotel room for the night.
The third time, a guy walked into the ladies' restroom in the mall by accident. She had seized the opportunity, and they had a quickie in one of the cubicles.
The last time she got fucked, was at last year's college graduation ceremony, when she seduced one of the lecturers, and they ended up spending the night in a nearby motel. That was nine months ago, the longest she had ever gone without a hard cock in her cunt.
Going without sex for this long left her constantly horny. A while ago, she even tried to come on to Mr. Mansfield, the owner of the local hardware shop. He was 72, and happily married. Luckily, they were able to laugh it off.
---
Sitting at her desk, Bernadette was starting to feel uncomfortable. The morning sun was quite strong already, and in the last hour or so, her skin had become slightly damp and a little sticky, especially between her thighs, under her arms and underneath her boobs, where skin was touching skin.
She decided to turn the air con on for a while.
The cool air provided some relief, however, it didn't really help her focus. Her nipples got hard in the cool breeze, and rubbed against the thin fabric of her dress with every move.
The noise of a lawnmower outside her window didn't exactly help, either. Who the hell was mowing their lawn at 8 o'clock in the morning?
She looked up from her desk, out of her bedroom window, which overlooked her neighbor's garden, and felt her heart pick up its pace. Seeing him push the mower across the green grass made her instantly forget about Nathaniel Hawthorne's literary techniques, and the essay she was meant to write about them.
About four weeks ago, this hot, muscular, tanned, mid-50's guy, who was mowing his lawn in nothing but his shorts this morning, had moved in next door.
She had seen him get out of his SUV that day. For a split second, their eyes had met, and she had felt a familiar twinge in the pit of her stomach, one she hadn't felt in a very long time. From that moment, she was obsessed with fucking him.
She watched him a lot from the vantage point behind her desk. He seemed to work from home, and, much to her delight, he spent most of his afternoons in his garden.