(Or How Ayesha Rediscovered Her Groove)
The warm morning light drifted through the partially drawn curtains, falling across the exposed thigh of Ayesha Khan as she lay in bed. As was typical she had woken before the alarm set by her dear husband, Yusuf Khan; this was the time she hated most of all, for in the early morning silence there was nothing to come between Ayesha and her thoughts.
How did she get here again?
She had never wanted to marry, and yet here she was. Forty-four years old. Married. Two kids and a devoted husband. Devoted to his work, at least. He definitely cared more for the vaginas of his patients than he did the vagina belonging to his wife.
Proof of that was announced by the sound of the alarm, loud enough to stir Yusuf to wake; for her husband was a heavy sleeper. Looking at her over his shoulder (he always seemed to roll away from her in his sleep), Yusuf smiled. "Morning, dear," he said. His voice was a distinctly higher pitch than hers, something that bothered Ayesha for reasons she could never pin down.
"Good morning," she said, faking a smile for his benefit.
With lumbering grace Yusuf rolled over onto her, and there was a brief moment when Ayesha felt the full weight of her husband - still growing with the years - press down on her, before Yusuf placed his hands beside her shoulders to support himself.
"You're very beautiful this morning," Yusuf said. Then he kissed her.
Kissing her husband should be a pleasurable experience, but with Yusuf it felt like two slugs pressing against her mouth. Attempting to kiss him back was futile; Yusuf just never seemed to react to stimuli. So she lay there and waited while he pressed his fat lips to hers, as he shifted his bulk to give his small dick access.
A lack of lubrication didn't seem to bother him, and Yusuf didn't last long enough for Ayesha to be discomforted. After a few minutes of grunting and slow thrusting Yusuf made an odd sound - Ayesha had long associated it with a farting pig - which announced to her that he had cum.
Ayesha didn't feel it. She never did.
Another kiss. "Have a good day, dear," Yusuf said, before rolling off and rising unsteadily to his feet. His small dick was already softening, retreating into itself above his tiny balls. Without any further interaction with his wife of some twenty-odd years, Yusuf Khan trundled into the ensuite bathroom to freshen up for another day at his gynecological practice.
Another whole day of giving other women more vaginal attention than he had just given to his own wife. Every morning before work, Yusuf fucked her for a few minutes. A relic, Ayesha once believed, of their attempts to conceive a third child, and he continued despite not having planted a baby in the belly of his wife for nineteen years. Ayesha had never bothered to go back on birth control: her husband's cum had obviously run out of what meager fertility had somehow created her kids.
Laying there, Ayesha listened to the sounds of her husband pottering around, helping himself to some breakfast downstairs - the only meal he ever made for himself.
By that point it had been a half hour since her husband had woke her with his normal morning demand of sex. As she lay there listening to her husband downstairs, Ayesha slowly moved her hand down her tight, flat stomach. A slight definition of some abs beginning to show through with all her hard work at the gym lately.
Any moment now...
No sooner had the front door slammed close, announcing Yusuf's departure from the house, did Ayesha's hand reach her vagina. With her husband gone Ayesha felt no shame in finishing what he hadn't even come close to starting with his clumsy efforts at sex.
Now, with her darling husband of some twenty years gone, Ayesha felt safe to explore herself. To revisit some memories of a time that felt so deep in the past that it almost felt like it happened to someone else.
But then it had been a different time, and a very different Ayesha than the loving mother of two incredible children, and wife to a successful husband, who now lay on the bed she shared with him; her hand slowly, tentatively, exploring her vagina.
It was time to think about some old flames. When she had been young, and full of adventure in love and sex - and holy shit! She had SO much sex! It was a secret part of her she had never told her husband in all their years of marriage.
As her fingers began their work she first thought of Gavin; a hot nineteen-year-old with a toned body, great abs, and a thick seven inch cock that had pleasured her for hours on the old sofa of her parent's last house. With her parents out for the evening - a rare occurrence for young, sexy nineteen-year-old Ayesha - she had carpe diem-ed and invited her then boyfriend around. Up to that point they had done only blowjobs round the back of the shops in their little London borough, but that night had given them a perfect opportunity to get more intimately acquainted.
And they did. Several times. Having seen how he had stayed hard each time she blew him off Ayesha knew Gavin had great stamina, but her then boyfriend truly displayed fantastic sexual endurance that evening; fucking her for four hours before they had to clean themselves (and the room! God, they had made a mess!) before her parents got back from visiting friends.
