Holly was devastated. She came home sick and caught her husband in bed with another woman. Her marriage wasn't the happiest but she struggled hard to make it work, even gave up things she loved to keep it together. Seeing him in bed fucking that woman, no, someone half his age, that was the final insult. She didn't say anything. She packed a bag, slammed the door as she left and drove to the nearest motel. Next morning, between sobs, she called an attorney.
Holly is a good person who tried to make her marriage work. Bob was a jerk who could have cared less. All he thought about was himself and beer, buddies and sports on the television. For twenty years, Holly suffered in silence. Their sex life died soon after their vows were spoken in that cavernous church so long ago. She cried as she watched her child bearing years pass, alone in her room knitting scarves for her nieces and nephews. Bob could have cared less as he opened another beer and wondered which game he was watching.
Perhaps catching him fucking her was the best thing that happened to Holly. She was forty and still pretty, a little overweight but manageable. She had a career so money wasn't a problem. She would walk away from this disaster and begin again, a new life, a fresh start. But that was the problem. All her old friends were gone, chased away by her lout of a husband, but she was anxious to start living again. She hired a good attorney. He kept the house but she got just about everything else, including the Subaru. Life was beginning anew.
Holly moved into an apartment near the university, on the top floor of a high rise, safe and secure. It was a spacious four room affair with a wonderful view of downtown Baltimore and she took the furniture she needed to fill her new space. She left Bob with very little. It took forever rearranging everything and still she wasn't satisfied. Everything had to be perfect. She was starting anew and she didn't want to make the same mistakes she did twenty years ago. She craved to be happy, to be loved, to be wanted.. She began to love her new life and hoped her luck would change. She was ready and willing to feel free again, to choose new friends and perhaps a new lover, to feel the hands of another on her body, to lean her head back and moan into a long orgasm. Her fingers did wonders but that was not what she wanted. She wanted loving hands, tender caresses and a cock buried deep inside her pussy.
The problem was, Holly didn't know where to begin. She hated the bar scene. She loved to drink wine, but to sit in a bar and be subjected to a dozen men like Bob was more than she wanted to deal with. She wanted more than that. She wanted to be loved and to love back, to ram her hips hard on a thrusting cock, hands squeezing her breasts, her nipples begging to be teased, pummeled, caressed. Each night she would dream of such an encounter, of some loving man who had been hurt or disillusioned, willing to begin again and please her, to make her feel wanted again, to make her cum in delight, to put her past behind a glorious future. She sighed. Masturbating began to depress her. Each time she came, she thought of Bob and all the useless Bobs in the world. Sighs turned into tears and Holly sensed she had reached the end of her short lived sex life.
One morning, Holly got a call from mom. Her dad had a very bad accident and she rushed home. Her parents lived Cumberland, a three hour drive, and she went straight to the hospital after leaving the interstate. Finding mom, she found out he was on the operating table. The prognosis was good and she stayed all afternoon and into the evening until she was sure dad was going to pull through. The hospital staff made arrangements for her mom to stay with him that evening, to be there when he awoke from the anesthesia, then Holly, when visiting hours were over, drove back to her childhood home for much needed rest.
Holly needed a drink. No, she needed a couple of glasses of wine to release the tension that wrecked her senses and aching body. Her parents didn't drink so there would be nothing waiting at the house and Cumberland was so different from when she grew up. She had no idea where to stop until she found a small bar on the edge of town with a lighted neon Rolling Rock sign on it's last legs. She figured one place was as good as any other, parked the car and walked inside.
