Willpowers

She stared at herself in the full-length dressing mirror that stood in the corner of her and her husband's bedroom and, turning this way and that way, admired her plumping body, pleased, though rounding out in full curves of belly and ass and thighs, that she saw yet no dimpling of flesh. Nope. Pleasingly plump but still taut and firm.

True. The breasts were sagging a bit without support, but at 51, that was to be expected, and when she wore a bra, they stood nicely on her frame and even managed to bounce a bit if she walked briskly about her errands and chores.

She touched her nipples lightly and was not surprised at their quick reaction since they had always been sensitive, and their stiffening now ran a straight nerve to her core which had instantly dampened with the light tweaking.

She looked over at the bed at her snoring husband. A good man, a good father and husband, but he was pudging past 58 now and his enthusiasm and stamina had waned... as had his cock's ability endure enthusiastically.

Still. She was happy enough with a monthly romp though she wished it were daily... even hourly. She'd discovered a couple years ago that as her hot flashes had signaled the beginning change in her body, they had also brought with them the seemingly incessant need for sex, and so she had started grinding on any available surface whenever she got the chance... and no one was watching.

And if she was alone in the house, she would strip completely nude except for her ankle socks and rub her bare and delighted pussy until she screamed with relief all the while watching her fingers and hands working her lips and clit and talking dirty to herself, "Mmmmmmm. Fuck me! You fuck your pussy good!" Not really talking to or thinking of anyone in particular, just enjoying the body she had been gifted.

Now, she looked at her husband then back at herself, and she giggled quietly at the thought as there was a light knock at the door.

"Mom? Dad? Y'all up?" It was her son. Twenty-four and still living at home, but unlike many of her friends' sons, he at least held a steady job and was seldom home, and when he was, was quite willing to help out with whatever chores she or her husband required of him.

"Gimme a sec," she replied and quickly pulled on an oversized t-shirt, slid into the bed next to her husband, and pulled the covers up over her chest saying, "Come on in," after she had done so.

"Hey," her son, Will, said as he entered the room, "I'm not buggin' y'all am I?"

"Nope. Just put down my book and was gonna turn out the light," she said pointing to the paperback sitting on her nightstand. "What's up?"

"Not much. Just wanted to let you know me and Dave are leaving early in the morning. Going camping for a couple days."

"That sounds fun, hun. Where at?"

"Probably around Lake Fillmore. I'll call when we get there and let you know for sure where."

"K. Please do, Will. And be careful."

He leaned in and kissed her cheek and tousled her short, red hair.

"Still think it looked better long, mom," he told her.

She smiled. "Easier to care for this way," she replied.

"If you say so. Anyways. Good night. See y'all in a couple." And as he leaned in to kiss the top of her head, she couldn't help but notice the fine young man she'd helped to raise. Absolutely average in every way but beautiful to her. His dark brown hair and eyes and smirky lips just like his daddy used to have whenever he had looked at her. Even the little star-shaped scar on her boy's chin, a gift from a short-hopped baseball, was not so much a blemish as it was a remembrance of his youth and vitality, and as he left the room, the door softly clicking closed, she moved closer to her husband... and dreamed of his youth and once vital need.

She woke later than usual the next morning. Not having had to work for several years, she still tended to rise when her husband did just to share the morning with him as he prepared for work and she prepared her to-do list, but this morning she woke to his kiss good-bye and he was gone. He'd return about 6:00 in the evening, hungry and exhausted, and she would take pride in having a full meal ready for him - even though it would probably, as usual, just put him to sleep.

But for now, she stretched full in the bed and, hearing his truck start and then leave, began to kick the covers down to the foot of the bed, since washing them was on her agenda, but that could wait as she stretched some more, realizing as she did so that her movement and the fabric of her sleep shirt had teased her nipples hard.

She continued to wiggle and squirm allowing a ravenous want to fill her so that she unconsciously moved her ass toward the now crumpled sheets in such a way as to cause her sleep shirt to slide up past her hips and expose her pussy to the wafting air of the ceiling fan. It's breeze teased her wet lips and she began to massage them deeply allowing her thumbs to craze her clit until she slid herself off the end of the bed and thumped to her butt amid the pile of sheets and the comforter, leaned her back against the bed and raised her bent knees until her pointed toes just barely grazed the floor.

She stared at her shaved pussy as she began to fuck herself with the fingers of one hand while furiously rubbing her slippery clit with the fingers of the other, and as the orgasm built and her toes began a ballerina tapping on the floor, she groaned to herself, "Oh fuuuuuuuuuck my pussssssssy pleeassssse. Pleeeease fuck me fuck your pussy fuck fuck

FUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!" and then her hips were bucking and her legs locked and every muscle clenched as her pussy gave way to the gushing pleasure.

She came back to full consciousness just a minute later and smiled at the sight of herself in the floor, and as she stood up and gathered the sheets and the comforter in her arms and headed to the laundry room, she was already thinking of the vibrations of the washing machine and only faintly heard the soft rumble of a vehicle as it pulled away down the street.

She spent the morning alternately rotating laundry from basket to washer to dryer to drawer and running the vacuum which at one point she attached to a nipple to feel it's insistent unending suck. The sensation proved irresistible, and so she took it with her to the laundry room where she alternated between breasts as she pushed her naked pussy against the washer as it moved through its spin cycle, her juices rolling down her thighs into a small puddle at her feet. This, of course, was followed by a thorough wiping down of the machine and a long hot shower after which she dressed in a pair of jeans, another t-shirt and began to prepare a dinner of smothered pork chops, rice, green beans and some homemade rolls.

She didn't normally nap, but after a full day of work and play, she lay down on the couch and dozed until wakened by the slam of a door and her husband walking in.

"What a fucking day!" he shouted.

She sat up blinking away the sleep. "Hi, hun... you ok?"

"Yeah yeah," he replied as he took of his coat and laid it over the back of the couch and kissed the top of her head. "Just tired. What do I smell?"

"Just some pork chops warming in the oven," she said as she got up and moved into the kitchen as her husband followed.

"Do I smell bread too?" he asked.

"Yup. You know it," and she began to pull dinner out of the oven as he sat at the small table where they ate their meals.

She fixed two plates and set them on the table then grabbed some silverware and a couple of paper towels while he got up and put ice in glasses and filled them with the sweet tea that was always in the fridge. It was an easy, quiet dance of comfort and stability, and when they both sat down the quiet continued only broken by the sound of cutlery on plate and soft chewing.

Her husband finally broke the silence as he mopped the gravy with a buttered roll.

"Where's Will?"

"Oh. He's gone to the lake for a couple days with Dave..." she hesitated, "...so we've got the house to ourselves." She looked at him hopefully, but he simply cursed.

"Damn. I wanted him to follow me into work tomorrow. Gotta drop off the truck for servicing."

"I can do that if it would help," she offered.

"Thanks but I'll just get Tom to run me over when he gets in," he said as he stood and began clearing the table of the now finished meal and placed the dinnerware in the sink.

"That was delicious, babe. Thank you," and he kissed the top of her head again as he headed for the living room and his chair.

She got up, went to the sink, and quickly washed the dishes then covered the leftovers and placed them in the refrigerator, enough for another meal tomorrow night, so she at least wouldn't have to cook, she thought as she walked into the living room and past her husband, dragging an arm across his shoulders as she went by hoping he might turn and watch as she continued on to the stairs and up, but his gaze was fixed on the television as he clicked through the news channels.

She went on up to their bedroom and changed into another oversized sleep shirt, and leaving her panties and bra on the floor, went back down to the living room, pulled her clippers and file and polish from a drawer, and sat across from him, planting one foot up on the ottoman and began to pamper it.

She knew, if he looked, he'd be able to see her delicate and now faintly throbbing pussy. Whether or not he could tell that it glistened with heat and arousal would depend on how hard he looked. She lifted the foot and pulled it up to her face, feigning a curiosity in her little toe that gaped her lips open, and she knew her clit was swollen and plainly visible. She stole a hidden glance in his direction, saw him look her over then cough and turn his attention back to the tv.

She spent another hour painting her toenails and letting them dry, eventually forgetting she was trying to seduce her own husband when he stood and walked to her.

He took a moment to admire her toes, and her pussy warmed, again, when he kissed her head, again, and announced he was headed to the bed citing extreme exhaustion as his early excuse.

"I'll be right behind you," she told him as he headed up.

"No need to rush," he replied, "Unless you're up there now, I'll be out."

She took this for an invite and quickly put her things back in their drawer, turned off the tv and all the lights and was up to their bedroom just five minutes later to find him already undressed and turned away with his back facing her side of the bed.

She jumped in quickly making sure to pull her sleep shirt high up her stomach so that if he reached for her, he'd find her willing and accessible and as she settled in, letting one of her full legs rest against his, the simple touch of her flesh to his enough to cause her hand to drift between her thighs and begin to lightly stroke her clit, hoping to be discovered pleasuring herself, but in five more minutes he was snoring.

So, not only was she by now needing fucked, her nap assured that she would not herself be sleeping soon, so she got up and went to the bathroom leaving the door open so that if he roused, he would see his wife gloriously fingering herself.

But he never moved as she sat on the floor, back propped against the tub and for the third time that day fucked her pussy until her naked ass began to slip on the tiled floor she had made slick, and she ended up on her back knees bent wide as she could get them, muttering to herself, "God, please fuck your pussy hard. Harder. Own my fucking cunt oh fuck oh fuck fuuuuuuuck," as she came.

When she finished, her husband was still snoring hard, so she wiped up the floor with a hand towel, placed it in the hamper, and returned to the bed where she drifted to a light and fitful sleep.

She had no idea what time it was when she woke maybe a couple hours later, only that it was nowhere near daylight and something was wrong. Something had wakened her, and her skin was covered in a cold sweat as she stared at the red glow of the alarm clock on the dresser, hoping its faint light would illuminate the room as her eyes scanned looking for movement and her ears listened for the faintest sound, not daring to move, for some reason, as she did both. Her husband wasn't snoring, but she could hear his steady breathing as he lay just behind her and the steady drone and soft whups of the ceiling fan were the only noise to be detected. She was about to turn over and move closer to her husband for some comfort when she heard it. A rustle of fabric at the foot of the bed froze her solid, and her blood ran cold when she detected a slight motion there as well. A darker black moving in the reddish glow of the alarm clock, and she felt a hand touch her foot through the heavy comforter. That was enough to break the paralysis, and she screamed as the shape moved to her husband's side of the bed, and before he could become fully awake, the shape was above him.

"Don't move," the man, the intruder breathed low and heavily.

"What the fu..." her husband started to say trying to sit up, but was hit quickly across his face by a fist.

"Don't move," the man repeated, "and shut up."

Her husband lay groaning, and she could only sit trembling, clutching just a pillow for protection as the man cocked the gun he was carrying and tossed a roll of duct tape at her that hit the pillow and then rolled between her legs.

"Tape his wrists and ankles," he told her, again low and steady. "Do exactly as I say, and I'll be gone."

She looked to her husband who was still recovering from the abrupt awakening and the blow to his jaw. "Hun.." she began, but the man cut her off.

"No. Do as I say," and he lifted the gun and pointed it at her husband's head who nodded at her and held his hands together.

She fumbled trembling with the tape and began to wrap it around his wrists.

"Tighter," the man told her as she wound and wound layer after layer until a thick gray mass held her husband firm.

The man reached down to check her work and then grabbed the bedclothes and threw them off the end of the bed.

"Now. The same to his ankles," he said.

She was briefly conscious that she was wearing only the sleep shirt, but as the man pointed to her, then her husband's ankles and then, with the gun, back at her husband's head, she complied, thankful that the darkness was almost total and would conceal her.

Once she had her husband's ankles taped, the man checked her work again and motioned for the tape. She handed it to him and held her shaking hands together waiting to be bound, but he simply pulled a lengthy strip and tore it off slapping it firmly across her husband's mouth.

The man looked at her.

"Money. Jewels. Valuables," he whispered. "Get up and get them now."

She wasn't sure she could even walk as she put first one foot then the other on the floor and took another look at her husband whose eyes shone with the same fear she felt.

She began to walk, slowly groping toward the dresser, still struggling to see, but the man crossed behind her, took three steps toward the bathroom, flicked the light on, and closed the door halfway so that the room was slantly lit in lonely shadows.

Even though she could see better now, she didn't look directly at him. She knew he wore a ski mask and dark pants and shirt, but she wouldn't risk looking too long not wanting to anger him.

"Get it all," he said as she paused, eyes adjusting to the light, but she reached the dresser quickly now and pulled open the top drawer where she kept a small jewelry box which she pulled out and placed on top.

"Empty it," he said, pointing at the drawer, so she pulled it out of its cavity and turned it over letting her bras and panties fall in a pile around her feet.

"Next one," and she continued through each one and as she pulled each drawer out and dumped its contents, her t-shirt moved against her nipples, and they hardened and hardened more with each movement, despite her fear, until she reached for the bottom drawer.

She squatted down, realizing that the t-shirt now barely covered her ass, and her pussy felt the exposure and began to throb, knowing only that the nipples had been rubbed... and so now it must be time.

She stood with the last drawer, spilled it's contents then held it in front of her chest not wanting her now fully firm nipples to be seen aroused and she stood shivering, ashamed at her bodies betrayal.

The man moved slowly in front of her.

"Put the drawer down," he said, so she complied and then stood again.

"There's more in the closet," she croaked as he stared at her breasts and she his chest hitch in a deep breath held.

Then he motioned her in that direction and stood at the closet door watching both her and her immobile husband as she pulled her husbands wallet from the little stand where he laid both it and his keys every night and handed it over.

The man took it and, looking over her shoulder, pointed at the upper shelving.

"Get the boxes," he said.

She hesitated. "They're just shoes," she replied, but he took a step closer to her and she turned her face down and away.

"Show me," he growled.

She turned and stood tip-toes to reach the first box, knowing as she did so that nothing was stopping his eyes and again she felt the fabric in a continuous rasp across her nipples and now her pussy throbbed as she grabbed the box as quickly as possible, opened the lid and showed him.

"See? Shoes," she all but begged, hoping the humiliation would soon end, but he said, "Show all," in a husky voice,and she knew he was not interested in the boxes.

She pulled down as many as she could reach, and each time the t-shirt went up with her arms and her bare pussy felt the breeze and moistened more until, to her shock, she could feel it as a drip slid down the inside of her thigh.

The last box was not so quickly gotten as it was just out of reach and left her exposed much longer than she wanted, but then she felt him move behind her as, still on tip toes and arms extended, he joined his free hand to her efforts, and as she brought the box and her arms down, her ass felt him hard against her.

They stood like that for only a moment. Just long enough for her to think, "God no," then he moved out of the closet and motioned her back toward the bed where her husband still lay, the fitted sheet still uncovered.

The man pointed at the bed, and she sat back down on it and tried to move toward her husband, but the man grabbed an ankle and pulled it toward himself as he placed the gun next to her book on the side table.

"Please..." she said as he helped her scoot her back against the headboard, "No..." she tried to continue, and she crossed her smooth legs in denial, but he firmly grabbed behind a knee and pulled up and out as she heard her husband begin a weak whimpering.

"Please don't..." she tried again once he'd raised both knees, and she was fully open and she realized she wasn't putting her legs back down, whether giving up or allowing, she couldn't tell, but she left her legs bent and spread as she looked over at her husband who had turned his head away, and she felt herself let her legs spread a little more.

"Lift your arms," the man whispered, now in her ear, and she did so and then leaned forward as he pulled the sleep shirt over her head so that nothing covered her.

His mouth moved again to her ear.

"You're wet," he whispered, and she nodded as she felt his finger tips brush along the back of her thigh.

"Say it," he said and now the fingers were on the inside of her thigh.

She hesitated then softly, "I'm wet." And her pussy melted at the truth of it and asked her to say more.

"Now. Say, 'My fucking pussy is wet.'" and his fingers lightly traced her pussy's lips.

"My fucking pussy is wet," she said quickly and softly, and it was absolutely dripping, and she felt her hips begin to move, hungry for the touch he was so far just teasing.