Authors: Sadie Grey
by Sadie Grey
Copyright 2014 SADIE GREY
All Rights Reserved
All of the hot, sexy, and naughty characters in this story are entirely fictional, NOT related by blood, and are consenting adults over the age of nineteen.
Sex makes people crazy, and a lack of sex makes people even crazier.
I hadn’t had sex in over a year, which was especially sad since I’d been married for the previous five years.
To be fair, two of those years of marriage were happy ones. The other three were pretty rocky. Not in a big a dramatic way, but in the boring “I’ve stopped caring” kind of way.
My husband Terry and I fell into a rut. Every day seemed to blend together like we were sleepwalking. We got up, we went to work, we got home, we went to sleep. Just like that over and over without any changes.
I could have lived with that boring life if it wasn’t for the fact that my sex life was dead in the water.
When we’d first met, my husband and I fucked like rabbits. Every time we were alone together, we’d be naked and sweaty as soon as physically possible. It was part of the reason why I fell in love with him. The man had magic fingers. They knew all the secret spots on my body that made me squirm, and they knew all the spots inside me that revved me up until my body was on fire with lust.
Then one day about a year ago the magic was gone. He just stopped touching me. He stopped kissing me. And he definitely stopped fucking me. I figured it was just a phase. That he was stressed from his job as a lawyer or that he just needed a little space.
Then he started getting home late. He’d be cold and distant and he would immediately take a shower before doing anything else. As much as I didn’t think he was that kind of guy, I began to suspect that he was having an affair.
So one night, while he was asleep, I checked his email. I knew it was a breach of trust, and I felt like a shitty person for doing it, but I had reached the end of my rope with our relationship. I had to know if he was cheating on me.
What I found made me feel sick.
I scanned through his inbox and I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. Just work emails and spam. I checked his trash folder and there wasn’t anything incriminating in there either. I almost gave up, feeling silly for being so paranoid. But just to be sure, I checked his sent folder. That’s when I hit the mother lode.
There were a shitload of emails addressed to his secretary, Michelle. They were full of filthy descriptions of the sordid things he was going to do to her. He talked about tying her up and fucking her on his desk. He talked about fucking her in the ass. He talked about all sorts of things I’d never even thought of doing.
I was so mad at him.
Even his affair was boring and cliche. Fucking his secretary? Ugh. She wasn’t even pretty. I mean, not that it would have made it better, but at least I could somehow understand the allure of cheating if he was trading up. But she was a giant step down, in my opinion.
It was downright offensive.
The emails spanned several months. I read through them for hours, reading and rereading the back and forth conversations of the illicit lovers. The earlier emails started tame and sweet, but as time went on, they got bolder and more descriptive.
They described what they had done to each other and what they planned to do to each other in the future. It was insane, and despite the anger I was feeling, it was totally fucking hot.
I found myself getting turned on. It started as a tingling clench in my belly and ended up as a burning need inside me that had me squirming in my chair. My lonely, neglected pussy needed attention.
Even though a part of my brain knew it was wrong to pleasure myself to the thought of my husband seducing another woman, some dark part of my brain without morals had taken over. And that part of my brain was making me horny as hell. I needed release, and I needed it badly, no matter how wrong it seemed.
Or maybe that was what turned me on. How wrong it was. Whatever the case, I couldn’t hold back any longer.
I pulled my pajama shorts off, along with my panties. My hand slid down my body until it nestled between my legs.
I ran my finger along my aching slit, parting my lips ever so slightly to slick my finger with moisture. I stroked myself with my fingertips, shivering at the sensation. A soft moan escaped my lips.
I worried that Terry might hear me, but ultimately, I didn’t care. Maybe if he saw me, he’d remember that I was a woman with needs and a sex drive. Maybe he’d forget about his fucking secretary.
I leaned back into the chair and pushed my middle finger inside myself. My pussy was burning hot with need. I stroked my insides with a steady, pleasing rhythm.
I slicked my thumb and toyed with my clit while my finger pumped inside me. It was a poor substitute for a big throbbing cock, but at that moment, it was hitting the spot. Literally.
With my free hand, I massaged my breast through my thin t-shirt. I grasped my hardened nipple between my thumb and forefinger and rolled it around. I gritted my teeth to hold back a moan, but it did little to stifle the sound. The sounds of my pleasure cut through the silence of the house.
My eyes were closed and I found myself imagining my husband with his secretary. It was simultaneously infuriating and arousing. I had never felt a more conflicting mixture of emotions. Still, it was an intoxicating cocktail that drove my arousal to insane heights.
My pussy was so drenched that my finger made slick wet noises as it worked inside me. My skin was flushed and sweaty and a steady breathless moan sounded from my throat.
I heard a quiet rustling behind me, barely audible over my moans of pleasure. I spun around in the office chair, and there, standing at the door to the study was my husband, Terry.
His dark eyes glimmered in the darkness. They danced from my bare pussy to the hand on my breast. It seemed like he was breathing heavily.
Was he actually turned on? Was this what it took to get him to pay attention to me instead of his goddamn secretary?
I locked my eyes with his and increased the intensity of my fingering. I wanted it to be his hands that were touching me. I wanted his mouth on mine. I wanted him to lift me from the chair, slam me against the wall, and fuck me into oblivion.
Sure, I was pissed at him for being unfaithful, but I still loved him and I still wanted him. I knew we could make this marriage work if we could just rekindle that spark of passion between us.
My eyes silently beckoned him to join me. My moaning was an invitation. My fingers were a giant sign pointing the way to my horny pussy.
He blinked and looked down, away from the sexy show I was putting on for him. Then he turned and walked away.
My heart froze in my chest. Then I felt it break into a million little pieces. My arousal was gone. All I had left was my anger.
Tears stung my eyes, and indecision gripped me.
Should I go after him and make him touch me? I thought about it but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He had made his choice, and it wasn’t me.
Then maybe, I thought, I should go confront him. Maybe it was time to fight it out. I decided against that, too. The thought of fighting with him just made me feel tired. I had no interest in that. Not anymore.
There was nothing left to salvage.
I just needed to get out. To get away from him and our cold bed and all these traitorous emails. I stormed into the bedroom where Terry lay in bed, pretending not to see me.
I ignored him too and went into the walk-in closet, shutting its door behind me. The best thing I could do was go out and get a drink. I grabbed a pair of jeans that lay crumpled on the floor.
Then a sliver of glimmering fabric caught my eye. I dropped the homely jeans and pulled aside a swath of hanging clothes to reveal the shiny dress.
It was a crimson knee length dress. I hadn’t worn it in years, but it had been one of my favorite going out dresses. It was almost guaranteed to catch the attention of every man in the room.
It was my “look at me” dress, my seductive dress, my “fuck me” dress. With a wild grin, I pulled it down off the hanger.
A dirty rock and roll song blasted through the speakers in the dusty little bar on the wrong side of the tracks. Living in Las Vegas, I could have gone to a million different places to drink, but I didn’t feel like glitz and glamour tonight.
I’d chosen this place because I was tired of playing it safe. I was tired of eating and drinking at the same five restaurants near the house. I was tired of super sweet cocktails that were basically milk shakes with a little bit of alcohol.
I wanted dirty. I wanted dangerous. I wanted to feel like I was alive again.
As I had hoped, my sexy little dress still fit me, although it felt unfamiliar clinging to my body. That was okay. Unfamiliar was good. Different was good.
My comfortable clothes from my comfortable life had been replaced by this dress that clung to my curves in all the right ways. My boring underwear had been left crumpled in my closet. I was wearing a slinky little thong instead.
I felt sexy, and the patrons of this dusty little place seemed to agree with me.
All eyes were on me as I walked into the bar. A group of bikers sitting around the pool table watched me walk by like lions watching a gazelle. I could almost see the drool on their lips.
A few blue collar types that were slouched around a table nudged each other and sat up straighter when they saw me. Even the drunkest of the drunks stared at me with bleary eyes. They might be seeing two of me but I think they liked both of us.
I sidled up to the bar and ordered a bourbon from the muscular bartender with a gleaming shaved head. He grunted in assent and poured me a double.
I slammed the drink back, trying to still the anger twisting in my guts. The sharp sting of alcohol burned down my throat and warmed my stomach. I felt an almost instant rush to my head. My hand reached out to clutch the bar to keep the world from falling out from under me.
A firm hand gripped my shoulder and steadied me.
“Easy there,” a gruff voice said.
I shook the hand off my shoulder. “I’m fine, thank you very much.”
I turned to look at the annoying asshole beside me and saw a hulking beast of a man. A sexy smile beamed at me between sharp, stubbled cheeks, and burning blue eyes stared at me and into my soul. He wore a battered looking leather vest with all kinds of patches on it.
“You’re definitely fine,” he said, looking up and down my body.
The line was cheesy and I wanted to roll my eyes, but after everything that had happened that night, it felt good to get a compliment from a sexy man like this, even if it wasn’t a very clever compliment.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I responded.
He nodded his head. “You want another drink?”