Regardless, I never really put my foot down about it. Because really, what the hell was the point? If I tried to protest, or I refused to do his share of the things that needed to be done around the house, it would all just end up piling up around me. He could just as easily live in a puddle of his own filth without seeing a damn thing wrong with it, and it would be Emily and I who suffered for my own efforts at equalizing our marriage.
I honestly felt so, so trapped by the crummy life that I'd been building up for myself these past ten years... I just couldn't help it. That was honest to God how I felt. On the outside, I had most of the things that a person should value in life- a loving spouse, a beautiful child, a home, a well paying job... And like I said, I loved my family, to death. Rob, with all his annoyances, was still a pretty amazing man, handsome, strong in a number of ways, and I knew in his way he cared deeply about me. By and large, I was extremely lucky to have him.
But, I don't know... maybe our mistake was that we had married young. We'd only been nineteen, and then it had kind of been a rash decision. We'd thought we were as in love as two young people could ever be, and that it would last from then until the end of eternity, just like all dumb young lovers believe.
And honestly, we sort of had some social pressure leading us into marriage, too. We came from a small community, the kind that valued chastity before marriage, and I think both of us had kind of gotten fed up with sexual frustration by the time we came into one another's lives. Marriage was the one and only legitimate way that we could start having sex as far as we were concerned, and we just got so swept up in one another that it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.
He'd been with another girl or two before me in spite of the things the people around him tried to enforce on him. When the two of us started dating, though, I made it very clear that I wasn't that kind of girl, even though I might have secretly wanted to be, and after a while he ended up wanting me so badly that he ended up on one knee, and I, in my own eagerness for consummating with this sexy stud, accepted in a heartbeat.
He'd been the only man I'd ever known intimacy with. At first, it had been like a dream come true, as he explored my body and pleased me in ways that I'd only ever had the opportunity to imagine. As far as I could compare him to anyone else, too, he was an exquisitely skilled lover, touching me in ways that I didn't think a man could possibly know how to touch a woman, filling me with so much pleasure, and making me feel so very, very close to him, that I honestly really believed that whatever it was the two of us shared was going to last for the rest of our lives together.
And then Emily had been born, my beautiful little pride and joy. Both of us were thrilled, though me far more than Rob, and I guess to some extent I should have recognized some of the early signs of fracturing between the two of us right about that time.
A lot like marriage, I think Rob had stumbled into having a child with me out of a sense of obligation more than anything. It was just what was expected of him as far as he was concerned, and who was he to go against the grain? I think he'd only ever considered the prospect of a baby from a safe, sterile distance, but once he became confronted with the reality of dirty diapers and spit-up, early morning feedings and ear piercing screams at all hours of the night, things sort of sank in for him in a fashion that was just a little bit too real, and that took place entirely too late.
And so, the years had gone by, and this rift between the two of us just kept getting wider and wider and wider. So now, I was staying late at the office on my weeknights, dreading my once dreamed about domestic life, and trying to think of any damn way on earth that I could ease myself back home without my head positively bursting.
I knew damn well I couldn't stay in this place all night, sleeping under my damn desk for fear of going home and confronting my loved ones. It was well past time for me to get headed back in the direction of home.
At last, I opened my eyes and stretched, pushing my body forward and flexing my spine, moaning a little bit as I tried to wake myself up, and then sighing as I stood up to go and fetch my coat.
I stepped out into the night, letting the cold air nip my cheeks as I stared out into the parking lot, and watching the foggy clouds of my breath pool up before my eyes. I was the last one here, the only car in the lot, and something about that made me feel really down about things, or at least more so than I'd already been.
I sighed again, clicking the unlock button on my keys, and stepped down the stairs as the lights flashed on and the horn did its couple of abbreviated honks, indicating that the doors were now open.
I took off down the highway, happy at first to have the road largely to myself at this time of evening having waited out the rush hour traffic, but then loneliness setting in, forcing me to turn on the radio to maintain some illusion of human presence. I flipped through a few shitty songs in the vain hopes of finding one that was just a little bit less shitty, but then settling on an oldies station instead, knowing that was about the best I was going to find.
I only lived about twenty-five minutes away from the office, but for some reason the drive was beginning to feel as though it would span on for eternity tonight, and I began to let my mind wander wildly for any excuse to prolong my arrival back home.
God, I could use a drink...
Hey, that wasn't a bad excuse at all, I decided. Or, well... Maybe it was, actually. It wasn't so much an excuse as it was a distraction, although in my present state I thought I would probably welcome a distraction with arms as open as they would be for an excuse. I needed something, anything to get me through the remainder of the night, even if it was only something that would take the edge off.
Around fifteen minutes from home, I made a turn off and pulled into a bar a couple of miles down the road, the whole thing feeling a little bit alien to me since I'd never been that much of a drinker, much less a public one.
Still, though, I needed this so badly that I didn't care that much how out of character it was for me. I just needed some kind of distraction...
I made my way into the bar, ambling up to the counter and ordering a modest but effective drink from the bartender. I needed to keep my blood alcohol content low, I knew- I wasn't about to drive home drunk or anything. But maybe I could at least get myself started so that, whenever I did manage to crawl my way back to the house, I could finish the job up right with a few of my husband's beers from the fridge. Hell, at this point I didn't give a damn if I woke up hung over for work tomorrow. As fed up and frustrated as I may have just been about trying to get caught up with everything at the office, I was in such a mood that I didn't think it would matter all that much if I wound up calling in sick altogether in the morning, and just staying in bed naked beneath the covers all day. It would be even better if I could keep Emily and Rob out of the house in order to avoid them disturbing me the whole time, but I knew I had that damn parent teacher conference to go to at Emily's school in the evening, and that one fly pretty much effed up the whole ointment of my plan as far as I was concerned.
But, first things first, that drink.
I slowly brought it to my lips, tilting back the glass, and let the liquids come flooding in. And God the light sting of alcohol, warming up my system…. I'd been so long without a drop of anything in my system, and I inhaled deeply, savoring every last drop of the stuff as I slowly drained the glass, and at last set it back down on the countertop, to stare at the drained container, and the clinking ice cubes swirling around in the bottom of the cup.
I thought, or let my mind wander, rather, getting pretty lost in my unfocused stupor, to the point that I was more or less staring out into space. God, I didn't want to go home... God, how I didn't want to go home... God, what an awful person I was for thinking this...
And then, suddenly, the bartender sat another glass down in front of me.
I blinked at it in a daze, trying to figure out some explanation, as though it was some complicated problem that would take an immense degree of effort to so
lve. When I came up short, I brought my eyes up toward the bartender, silently asking for an explanation. Just as silently, then, he offered me one, extending an index finger, and pointing me in the direction of the other side of the bar.
There, staring at me, was a man, a staggeringly attractive one at that, with dark skin, black eyes, and a penetrating gaze. His luscious lips were brought up into a smirk of want, and I found myself momentarily entranced by him, unable to look away. God, he was sexy...
Almost reflexively, without wholly meaning to, I brought the hand with my wedding ring on it down into my lap, as though to conceal it from view.
I looked slightly to the side as I fantasized about all the wonderful places this one donated drink could lead.
I imagined kissing the man on the lips, in his bedroom, both of his naked, his black skin contrasting fiercely with my own bright flesh as he smothered me with his weight. I would be moaning, my body trembling as he pushed himself up inside me, so tight, the friction astounding, and him riding me hard until I began to scream at the top of my lungs with pleasure...
And then what?
Suddenly, the fantasy hit a snag, and I started thinking about all the things that could go wrong.
He cums inside me, or the condom breaks, and I end up with an STD or another man's baby.
My husband finds out, and the two of us end up divorced, and I'm a single mother, and the family implodes.
And Emily... Poor, poor Emily...
Christ... God damn it...
The one thing I wanted. The one thing that, for whatever reason, I thought would save me from the things I'd been dreading all evening- and I knew there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that I could make it happen for real. It was the type of ridiculous, absurd daydream that can only ever be just that- a dream.
I sighed, shuddered as I indulged myself with a last fleeting thought of letting the man cum in me, and picked up the drink, downing the whole thing curtly, in one gulp. Hopefully, he would take the hint of my feigned disinterest...
I paid the bartender for the one drink I'd purchased myself, then nodded sadly at my disappointed suitor, thanking him for the drink all the same, and trying to let him down as gently as I possibly could.
If my circumstances were any different, then hell yes... You bet your beautiful ass I would...
Then I made my way back to the car, took a deep, painful breath, and hit the road for home all over again.
Chapter 2
“Hon'? That you?”
Jesus Christ, Rob... I'd sat in the driveway for nearly ten minutes after pulling in, dreading the idea of walking inside and having to hear this clearly disinterested greeting of his. He said it to me every damn night, and there was just something I found so irritating about it, as unreasonable as it may have been of me. There was just this sort of inherent lack of concern to it. Like he didn't really care, he wasn't actually excited that I was home- he just wanted to make sure I wasn't a fucking burglar, and past that it didn't really matter all that much who the hell I was. He used to greet me at the door and kiss me on the lips the moment I walked inside, and some days even have dinner made for me by the time I got in. Now I was lucky if there were still cold leftovers from the weekend in the fridge for me.
And God, I was getting to be so bitter... That stop at the bar had made things even worse for me than they'd already been, seeing what I could have gone home with and comparing it to what I was now stepping into the house to find waiting for me in his sweat pants, staring at the football game on his beloved big screen TV.
“Hey hon, yeah it's me,” I replied, staying as cool and collected as I possibly could, hiding my irritation as impeccably as ever, just like I always did. I leaned in to kiss him, and he didn't tear his eyes away from the big screen for a second. My lips pecked on his cheek, and his didn't make it to me at all, simply kissing the air as though he intended the kiss to travel through the air and make it to me somehow.
Obviously, I was distracting him from the game, and I most surely didn't want to be a bother to him...
I tried, feebly, piping up, “How was your day?”
“Good,” he said automatically, not giving it an ounce more of thought, and then added, clearly wanting to get me out of the room as quickly as possible so he could focus on the game, “Emily's upstairs in bed.”
What the hell? I thought.
I looked up at the clock, and was startled to see it was pushing on 9:30 already. My dazed stalling at the office and my stop off for the drink must have taken a hell of a lot longer than I'd thought they had, and now Emily was likely asleep. It was actually sort of amazing that Rob had even taken the initiative to get her in bed by nine...
I crept up the stairs and poked my head into the room, not wanting to wake her up, but thinking I should at least check up on things if she was still in a conscious state.
“Sweetie? Are you still awake?”
“Mommy!” my daughter exclaimed, her silhouetted arms outstretched in the darkness, and I flipped on the light, making my way over to her.
I took her in my arms, and felt myself warm up just a little bit, as perfect a reminder as any as to why I hadn't gone through with the thing I'd so desperately craved back there at the bar.
Then, however, I made the mistake of asking, “How was your day?”
And in response, she instantly launched into the very sort of enthusiastic tirade I thought I'd been lucky enough to dodge the bullet of avoiding, detailing every little thing that had happened to her at school that day, and causing an unpleasant resurgence of my headache all the while.
God, I was a shitty parent...
I pretended to listen, and smiled and nodded, but nothing she told me really seemed to stick as the words hit my ears.
I was dreading that parent teacher conference tomorrow... I'd never met her teacher, Mr. Fellows, but the name seemed incredibly familiar for some reason. I had this instinctive feeling that I wouldn't really like him for some reason, and the more and more she kept on talking about her day, the more and more I thought about how awful the meeting would probably be.
I don't think she was really finished yet, but I was too out of it to keep listening by this point, and when she came to a break in her account, I interrupted, “That's great sweetie. I'm glad you had a nice day. Go to sleep now. I love you.”
I kissed her on the forehead, and she peeped, “Goodnight Mommy,” not seeming to think a thing in the world of my cutting her off like that. No harm, no foul, I thought.
I switched off the light, and headed back down the stairs, stopping for a moment to watch my husband watching TV, seemingly not even aware of my presence as I passed him. I sighed, and continued my way into the kitchen, opening the fridge and seeing what we had in the line of alcoholic beverages.
First, my eyes landed on the beer in the front of the fridge, but as I was reaching for it I caught the bottle of wine behind this, and that seemed far more appealing to me.
I pulled out the bottle and made my way up the stairs with the thing, not even bothering to pour its contents into glasses, but simply opening up and tipping it back, drinking and drinking and drinking until I could at last feel the first effects of tipsiness beginning to take over.
At last, I began to see a few stars before my eyes, and though I didn't get totally wasted from the stuff, I was at least buzzed enough now that I could feel just a little bit at ease.
And God, did I suddenly feel as horny as the devil...
I slipped out of my clothes, laughing just a little bit as I struggled with the straps of my bra, and I slid into the shower, sighing loudly and drunkenly as the warm water came splashing down around my naked body, soothing me and making me tremble with pleasure, feeling for the first time all day that I was alright and in control of myself and my situation.
God, I wanted cock so bad right now... I knew if I tried to disturb my husband right now, he would be more annoyed that I was making him miss the game than he would be aroused at the prospect
of sex, but I thought maybe it would be over soon enough that I could still get a little pounding in once his attention was a little less dedicated to the TV.
I would just have to find something to occupy myself with in the meantime...
I slowly brought my hand down, pushing my fingers between my legs, and began to play with the lips of my pussy. I pushed them around, stroking myself and giggling as I did so, and my own self love began to take on almost comical exaggeration. I started finger blasting myself so quick and so hard that it was almost ridiculous, and at the same time I pushed my tits together, squeezing tight on them, getting myself worked up as hell, but my fumbling grip doing very little in the line of genuinely pleasuring myself as I stroked and pushed and abused myself.
I guess after a while I sort of came, but it was heavily unsatisfied and the sensations were dulled by the alcohol in my system. I needed some real cock in me if I wanted to experience those kinds of sensory delights in genuine, and for a while I just stood there beneath the soothing water, letting my mind water- all the way back to the man at the bar.
Game of Throbs Complete Series (Books 1-3) Page 60
