They were Really Just Bored

Neither of them was unhappy necessarily. They were just bored. Bored can be a lot more dangerous. In the past when one of them got fed up with the other they would say something. Communication wasn't easy for them but when push came to shove they would get up the courage to let it out. He had asked for a divorce once. On another occasion she had packed a bag and left for her mother's house. It happens over the course of 22 years. This was different though. At 48 she was not interested in starting over. She wasn't going to pack up and go home. He was 46 but his new job was exhausting and had him drained physically and mentally. Divorce wasn't even an option. He didn't have the time or the energy for that kind of nonsense.

Still, sex had become an afterthought for both of them. Mopping the kitchen floor was a higher priority.

She was at least still instigating it. Traditionally, all it had taken was to go to bed naked. That was what she preferred anyway. She didn't mind the extras and he was exceptional at going down on her but really, all she needed was a quick lay to get her through the week. She had to put more work into it now. She couldn't just climb into bed without her pajamas on. She had to roll over towards him. She had to touch him to even get him to pay attention to her. When she did pull him over on top of her he was disinterested and lately hadn't even been coming every time.

He just had no interest in a quickie. Maybe it was his age, maybe it was the stress, or maybe he just needed more than the same woman he had been fucking for twenty years laying on her back with her eyes closed.

The same Sunday night pushed both of them over the edge. She had tugged his cock half hard and rolled over. He had tried but he wasn't even hard enough to keep it in. When he rolled off of her she didn't like the idea that another man popped into her head but the thought was there. When he went back to watching the end of the Packers game he found himself thinking of the only packers fan he could think of, the frizzy haired blonde from the bar.

She didn't want to do it but maybe Phillip could stay hard enough to get the job done.

He didn't like that he was seriously contemplating another woman but necrophilia wasn't really his thing.

"One of the girls at work is leaving. They are having a happy hour Friday night. I have to go for a little while. Are you going to be mad if I miss Friday night happy hour at Mack's?" she asked him.

"Actually, USC plays on Friday for some reason. Brian and I were talking about getting together to watch the game."

She wasn't meeting the girls and Brian was out of town.

Tammy wore her black crisscross top to work on a Monday. She normally wore her "boob shirt" on Fridays for the all-sales meeting. Phillip would stare and then ask her to lunch. She went by his desk that morning. He was on the phone but waved at her to stay. When he got done with his call he asked if he had forgotten a lunch date and nodded towards her shirt or maybe the tits beneath it. She liked that he noticed.

"Actually," she said. "I wondered if you sales guys were doing happy hour on Friday night. I have the night free. I thought it would be fun to get out." She thought that was direct enough without being explicit. He said there was no Friday happy hour, it was the first week of the quarter, and most of the sales guys took the day off. He would be happy to buy her a drink if she wanted though. He suggested they might even get dinner. She said she wanted to check out the new fancy Mexican food place. He looked at her with intent. As she walked away from his desk she ran her fingers along his forearm.

She was rewarded with flirty texts the rest of the week.

Russ had no idea how to get a hold of Tammy's friend. Russ and Tammy typically spent Friday afternoons at the little sports bar by the house. There was a group of regulars they drank with. For years, the group had gathered around the tables outside. There was a fire pit for when it was cold and misters for when it was hot. Tuesday evening the bar was nearly deserted. He pulled up a stool and sat down. When the bartender came by he asked if he had left his credit card there. The bartender left to check. He had hoped someone from their little group would be there. Someone he could ask for Emma's phone number.

He was only there about fifteen minutes when she walked in. She was average height, and although she was a bit plump around the middle she had a flirtatious smile that lit up a room. She sat down right next to him. Her boys and their father were at Lacrosse practice at the park behind the alley. He bought her a beer.

They discussed the fact that he was only ever there on Fridays. She told him she was happy he was there. She said she never really got to talk to him like this and she placed her hand on his for a second. They talked about Friday. She and her husband were going to miss the gang. He said he and his wife weren't going to be around either.

"She's going out. I was looking for someone to go watch USC play Cal."

"I went to USC," she said.

"I know, so did I."

"Where are you planning to go? The boys are in San Diego this weekend for a tournament. I was planning a quiet night at home."

"I didn't really have much of a plan at all," he admitted, he was a little shocked by just how true his statement was.

"You said Tammy was busy?"

"Yeah."

"We shouldn't go anyplace too close." she said.

"No, probably not." He answered. He looked at her. She was smiling at him. She was smiling directly at him. He hadn't experienced a look like that in a long time.

"There's a Mexican place, a new one, over by the new house. It's almost walking distance really."

"Okay."

"Say seven?"

"We could meet earlier," he suggested.

"Hand me your phone."

She took his phone from him, typed in a number and a text message that read simply "hi." A second later her phone vibrated in her purse.

They talked around the situation for another beer. They slipped subtle complements in here and there. He said he liked how she did her eyes and asked if it was a lot of work maintaining her wild mess of hair. She asked where he worked out and gripped his bicep. He paid for the beers and offered to walk her out. She led him through the breezeway along the smoking area and then to the alley. At the opening in the block wall he stopped and she stopped with him, leaning up against the wall. He looked down the alleyway and then up at the breezeway. She just stood there grinning.

A quick kiss became more quickly. She sighed. He ran a hand over her immense breast. She gripped his ass. When she wandered through the hole in the wall to watch her boys practice she reminded him to text her.

Thursday night Russ and Tammy sat on opposite sides of the living room. He was in his chair, she was on the loveseat and the sofa divided them with twelve feet of privacy.

She was grinning at her phone. Phillip had asked if she was going to wear her black Friday shirt. She said she thought she might wear a dress instead. He said he would miss the shirt. She answered that if he liked the shirt, he was going to love the dress.

"Why?" Phillip asked her.

"It shows off even more and comes off even easier." Her heart raced when she hit send.

Russ, on the other side of the room, didn't spend nearly as much time on his phone as she did but he was staring at it now. He had gotten a topless selfie, the first he had ever received. Tammy had never even sent him one. He replied to Emma that her arm was in the way. She sent a follow up. They were huge, simply humongous.

"Hey," Russell said across the room to his wife. "You wanna go to bed?"

"It's not eight o'clock yet," she replied. She stared at her phone still. He stood up. He turned out the lights. He turned off the television. He wandered into the bedroom.

"Oh!" she said as he disappeared.

She closed the door of their bedroom behind her. She stripped off her T-shirt and headed for the bathroom.

He grabbed her by the waistband of her shorts as she walked by. He pulled her to him. She had such delicious breasts, perhaps not as large but they were so nicely round, her nipples so perfectly suited to his lips, he gripped one and wrapped his mouth around her.

She pulled his head to her. She had planned a lot of breast play for Friday night. Phillip had talked about them all week. As her husband suckled at first one and then the other she remembered all the young men all those years ago and their desperation to touch, fondle and suck at them. He ran his scruffy beard along her erect nipple and she felt the excitement far deeper in her body than she expected.

He ran his hands along his wife's long thin legs. Emma's legs were not nearly so long, nor so perfectly shaped. He moved his hand to her ass and gripped her where her ass met her thigh. He hungered for her. His cock swelled.

She felt a tug at the thin hairs on her ass. When was she going to shave? She needed to shave better than normal. What was normal really, she hadn't exactly been grooming very regularly. She felt his hand along her calve and he wasn't stroking stubble but regular hair, Jesus, it was going to take hours to get ready.

He ran his face over her belly. He tugged her gym shorts down her legs. He gripped her panties in his teeth and tugged playfully. Emma, he imagined, wore much larger panties but she had hinted that they were sexy.

Fuck, she thought. She should have bought new panties. Odds were she had some in the drawer with tags still on them. She would have to check. Men liked panties. They liked seeing women in panties. They liked removing panties.

Her husband removed her panties. She pushed him backwards on the bed and dropped to her knees.

As she placed his cock into her mouth he thought about just how long it had been. She had skipped his birthday this year, the one blowjob he could always count on. Their anniversary get-away hadn't gone as planned either with her time of the month starting the morning they got on the plane. They had a chaste weekend in San Francisco sight seeing like retired people. Her mouth was so wet. Her tongue was so soft. Don't come, he thought to himself. Save it.

She liked to hear him moan. When she got just the right place he would moan every time. She had actually forgotten about that. She needed to remember that for tomorrow. From the start, she had planned to suck Phillip off. She wasn't sure, even when she was coming on to him if she was going to be able to go all the way, but she was going to at least go down on him. Her single friends all talked about giving head as the new making out. It was expected and it was supposed to be fun. She supposed, as her husband writhed about on his back, that it kind of was fun, having such complete control over him.

"Stop," he mumbled. He wasn't going to be able to hold it for long.

"Do me!" she replied.

She took a position at the foot of the bed on all fours, her ass in the air.

He stood and moved in behind her.

It had been a favorite when they were dating. They didn't call it doggie they called it "wolf style."

Don't come, he chanted to himself.

"Fuck me, baby. Fuck me good," she muttered to him as he entered her.

He gathered up her long brown hair and pulled gently. He was practicing. Emma had mentioned it was a favorite.

God, his cock felt good. She had forgotten the feeling of being taken from behind. He went deeper. He fucked harder. God, he was hard tonight. "Fuck yeah," she groaned in encouragement. She had mentioned to Phillip she liked it from behind and he had mentioned how much he liked to watch her walk down the hallway in her jeans.

He had to let go of her hair to grip her hips. He needed to get a better hold of her. He needed to fuck her harder.

"Oh, fuck me harder. Go. Do it."

He didn't come. He wasn't even close. He was panting. He was actually sweating.

She did come. It had come on slowly but once the first one hit they just kept coming. It was almost as if she was hit with a miniorgasm every time he thrust into her.

"Come in my pussy. Fill up my cunt." she growled. She wasn't sure she had ever said the C word in front of her husband. Phillip used the C word to describe it. He had actually sent her a long text describing the difference between a pussy and a cunt. You eat a pussy - you fuck a cunt. She was enjoying having her cunt fucked.

He came so hard his knees went weak. He fucked it into her. His dick pulsed with every thrust pushing his cum deeper.

"Lie down!" she barked suddenly. "On the floor."

She didn't give his cock long enough to go soft. She rolled from the bed, straddled his hips and pressed him inside of her. She forced the fingers of her right hand between their hips and pressed firmly on her clitoris.

Precisely 45 seconds after taking their position on the floor the same thing happened in both of their heads. Their minds went blank. She no longer thought about the sales director with the salt and pepper hair and he no longer was contemplating the plump mom with the big tits. They were just fucking for the first time in a glorious mind-numbing romp on the floor of the bedroom they had shared for 12 years.

Old habits die hard. After taking a moment sitting on top of him to catch her breath she sprung to her dresser and pulled on shorts and an old T-shirt. He laid prone for a moment or two after but then got up with a moan and joined her in bed.

Her heartbreak came when she muttered, almost inaudibly, "I love you," to him and was rewarded with a pat on the arm. She forced her eyes closed and went back to trying to figure out when on a busy Friday she was going to find an hour for a bath.

His heartbreak came on more slowly. She had no clue he had created a secret challenge for her. Despite the vigor of their lovemaking he laid in bed pretending to watch the cop show that flickered in front of him thinking that even after all of that, the last woman he had kissed had been the somewhat insane blonde in the alleyway behind the dive bar. He was just waiting to see how long it took her to kiss him. He wondered if it would happen at all.

Neither of them slept very well. They had a lot on their minds.