Family Affairs Ch. 02byD.C. Roi©
While Matt was sitting in his photo lab, enjoying his fantasies about her, Mary Forrester was in her bedroom, getting ready for bed. When they got home, Ricky gave her a "good night" kiss and went to his bedroom, exhausted from the game. Her husband, Tom, was away on another of the long sales trips he'd been taking more and more of during the last few years.
Mary pulled her sweater over her head and laid it on a chair, then she sat down and slipped her boots off. That done, she shrugged out of her snug jeans. She stood, wearing just a plain white bra and high-cut bikini panties, gazing at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the closet door.
"I guess I don't look too bad for an old married lady," she mused while she ran her hands lightly over her body which really was in good shape. She worked very hard to keep in good shape. She reached behind herself to unhook her bra. The movement raised her full breasts delightfully.
Mary took the bra off and examined the breasts she'd exposed. They were large and the tips were covered with large, dark circles, which surrounded equally large nipples. They sagged a bit, but not too much. She hefted one breast, then the other, noting with satisfaction.
"You can barely see the stretch marks on them," she told herself. She'd nursed her son and hadn't ever been sorry she'd done that. She felt that was one of the reasons she and Ricky had always been closer. Next she peeled off the bikinis and examined her belly critically. As on her breasts, there were a few visible stretch marks on her abdomen, but they were faint. Her pubic hair, black and tightly curled, formed a lush triangular cover for her groin.
She slapped one thigh, then the other, noting with satisfaction that the smacks produced little jiggle. Her legs were strong and well-shaped, the result of long walks she took almost daily.
"But..." she thought, "if I look as good as I think I do, why am I here, alone?"
She gave it more thought. Her husband had been taking more and more business trips for the past year and was now to the point where he was gone at least two weeks out of every month. When she commented on how much he was gone, he angrily protested that the trips were an absolutely necessary part of his job.
But even when Tom was home, their relationship was strained. Their love-making, which had once been passionate and frequent, had declined to the point that when they did occasionally have sex, it seemed as if Tom was performing perfunctory act with little passion. Sometimes it seemed to Mary that her husband only made love to her because he felt he had to do his duty, not because he wanted her. She couldn't remember the last time their love-making had been really satisfying.
Mary sighed and opened the bedroom closet. Hanging in it were several nightgowns, a few of them sheer, lacy expensive items she'd gotten when she was first married. The rest were sensible, flannel ones. Those were the ones she'd been wearing lately.
A few years back, she was excited when Tom suggested that they get a king-sized bed. She thought it would give them lots of room to play and make their love-life better. And it seemed to, at first.
But, that initial resurgence of their love-life passed all too quickly and lately the huge bed had turned into a vast, lonely area in which Tom could pull away and hide from her. Most nights, he was so far over on his side and she might as well be in bed alone.
Impulsively, Mary selected one of the sexy, silken negligees and slipped it on. She shuddered with delight as the sensuous material slid down over her body, caressing her, clinging to her ample curves. She touched herself through the silken material and felt tingles of delight spreading through her.
"Oh, God!" Mary thought as she hugged herself. "I need to be made love to. Really made love to! I...I wish Tom would make love to me like he used to."
She walked to the bed, turned back the covers, slid in, and pulled them up over her, then she turned out the light. Lying alone in the darkness, she was acutely aware of the need gnawing at her insides, smoldering deep down in her body like a banked fire.
Her mind drifted. She remembered Ricky's comments about the cheerleader - Dianna, or something, her name was. That could have been her in high school. She never believed she was pretty, and her parents didn't have a lot of money like families of kids who belonged to the "in" crowd did. Without meaning to, she fell victim to the only assets she felt she had, her body and face. In the long run, it did her no good. A lot of guys took her out, but none of them ever went steady with her. She sat home, alone, the night of the prom, crying.
She studied hard though, and, somehow, managed to get into the local branch of the state college system, and there she met Tom. With him, things seemed different. He courted her, pursued her, and when at last they made love, it was fantastic. No man she'd ever been with had been interested in her satisfaction, just their own.
Back then, Tom was different. When they first met, he was a masterful lover who spent hours caressing her and touching her, giving her experiences she never knew existed. When he'd taken her the first time, she exploded with more wonderful feelings than she believed were possible.
She and Tom married at the end of her freshman year and Ricky came along six months later. Tom's parents helped them at first, until Tom got a start in business. Their life together was good in those early years, with Tom becoming more and more successful and Mary reveling in being a mother to their son.
Her reveries about the love-making she and her husband once shared only fanned the embers of need glowing deep in Mary's body. Without realizing she was doing it, she began to stroke and caress her breasts, and her body responded. Soon she was writhing and twisting as her hands moved over her flesh.
"Ohh!" Mary thought, "Has it come to this? Is this what my life is going to be like from now on? Am I condemned to lie alone in my king-sized bed, pleasuring myself?"
She didn't stop. It felt far too good, and she needed release badly, even if she had to give it to herself. She worked the hem of her nightgown up and her hands stole to the lush black forest between her spectacular thighs.
Soft groans escaped from her lips as her fingers explored the dampening flesh of her vagina. She touched her clitoris and groaned out loud, her hips thrust upward, and her back arched. One hand rapidly stroked the erect bud of her clit, giving her the thrills she needed so badly, while the other went to her breasts, squeezing them, pulling on the huge, turgid nipples.
"Yes! Yes!" she groaned, her muscles tensing, back arched, and then it happened; sweet, wonderful release swept over her, filling her with joy.
At last, spent, she relaxed on the bed. She felt less tense, but as nice as pleasuring herself had been, it wasn't the same as having a man who wanted her make love to her. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. At last, she fell asleep.