Web Analytics
Girls Just Want To Have Fun - Day 1 Ch 2
User Rating: / 0

Thursday - Chapter 2
©Virginia Alison, ©Keith David, ©Tiffany St David, ©Lucy Dee Blake

Download full article in PDF

I get home from Lu’s, feeling saddened and depressed because I know I should have stayed longer with her. I could see the flare of desire in her eyes when we kissed, and I wanted to take it further, much, much further, but once again, I allowed thoughts of Tom to intrude and spoil what could have been a lovely, tender moment with my best friend.
My body came alive and aware under the probing of her tongue - even now, as I still sit in my car I can feel the throbbing wetness between my legs, my clit aching for her touch. I’ve known for years that Lucy has wanted me in her bed, but apart from a little kissing and touching, I’ve never allowed myself to cross that line…I’m not attracted to other women, necessarily, but there’s always been a spark with Lu…

I climb out of the car and enter our small house. Once, long ago, when Tom was at the height of his career, we lived in a much larger place with a pool, but had to downsize as our money dwindled. I do not mind - the house is cute and cosy - but it still rankles Tom, even after all this time. I think he feels that he has let me down, even though his injury was not his doing....I want so badly to mend what is left of this shattered dream and my thoughts turn again to tomorrow...and the stranger I will be meeting, who promises to make that happen.

Another day wrangling with people who are “just looking” for cars and I wonder to myself for the millionth time, ‘Is this really what my life as become?’ I used to have it all - million-dollar salary, everyone recognised my face at parties, plenty of friends…and now it was the day-to-day grind schlepping cars for a boss who yells and people who want all their shit for nothing. This realization leads me to the same question to which I always know the answer: ‘Where can I find a drink?’

O’Malley’s is my usual haunt and the regular crowd is already there when I arrive. Davey has my seat saved at the bar, a shot of whiskey and beer waiting for me. With a hearty pat on the back, I thank Davey for knowing exactly what I need as I pound the shot down in a flash. There will be some good football on this weekend and we pick up our usual banter about our teams while deciding where we will watch the game and get drunk this weekend.

It is this time in the bar, with the people, that I can forget about what shit my life has become. The music is loud, the same old guys and gals shuffle about, and it is like the football family I lost years ago. Going home is painful many days. I love Tiffany to death, but seeing our tiny box house when I pull in the driveway curls my stomach. Despite her reassuring smiles, I know deep down she really hates me. I promised her so much and now I am an embarrassment. The house, the car, the yard, and even Tiffany herself are constant reminders in my mind of how much I have failed to live up to my own expectations.

I don’t talk about this with Davey, except maybe when I am really drunk  and crying over my beer so to speak, but I think my marriage will likely be the final thing I let fail. I just cannot seem to find it in myself to give her what she needs and she just feels cold to me now. She hates me and I know she is just going through the motions. Hell, she probably has someone on the side anyway, so maybe I should cultivate another relationship.

Despite ample opportunities at bars and parties, girls hanging all over me, even strippers coming on to me, I have never cheated on Tiffany. I guess despite what hell I have turned my life into, the one shred I have left is the vow I made to her. However, I feel that slowly and surely slipping away, like everything else that was good in my life.

My cell phone tickles as it vibrates in my pocket. Retrieving it, I look down to see who is calling. Tiffany. The same story plays out each night and I cringe as I answer it. I explain for the millionth time I am just chatting with Davey and I will be home shortly, but turning to say goodbye to Davey there is another beer waiting for me at the bar. How can I refuse - looks like I will be late again.

In the meantime, I decide to make Tom’s favourite dinner - grilled pork chops with baked potatoes - and I hum happily, as I get everything ready, make sure the house is spotless, and splurge on a bath with some expensive crystals, the scent of which, he loves. At 6 o’clock, I am dressed in a lace nightgown, Tom’s favourite expensive French perfume dabbed behind my ears and between my thighs, and dinner is ready and waiting for my husband to come home. By 6:30, he still has not arrived and I call the dealership - no reply. With dread in my heart, I dial his cell phone. He finally answers, and by the loud cacophony of noise in my ear, I realize with a sinking heart that he is at O’Malley’s, the Irish pub down the road from work.

By 8 o'clock, I have tossed the ruined dinner out and eaten a yogurt, which is all my knotted stomach can stand. I am sitting on the couch staring at the blank TV screen when I hear his key in the front door. From the sound of it, he is drunk - again. He weaves into the living room and stares at me, bleary-eyed with booze.

“So where’s my dinner then?”

I arrive home a little later than planned and very hungry. Tiffany is waiting for me on the couch, arms and legs crossed and I see the hatred in her eyes again. With my dinner in the trash, I have clearly let her down in some way and I decide I should try to make it up to her. I fire off a compliment at how sexy she looks. In all honesty, she does look sexy as hell nearly all the time, but especially in her lace nightgown.

“You’re late, it got ruined, I threw it out,” I reply coldly. He just stands and looks at me, then appears to notice what I am wearing. He licks his lips. I realize I should have changed out of the nightgown.

“Oh really?” he says, inching closer. “Then you will just have to give me dessert!”

He is on me before I can draw a breath, his hands pawing at me, grabbing at the neckline of my nightgown and ripping it away from my breasts. I bat at his hands.

“Tom, go to bed, you’re drunk!” I exclaim. He does not reply, his mouth already on my nipple, sucking it into his mouth. In spite of myself, desire spikes through my body at his touch and I feel myself becoming aroused. I push him off me and try to make the bedroom to change but he grabs me by the arm, his other hand already undoing his belt.

“Uh uh, Tiff,” he says, “Not so fast.” He pulls out his huge cock; already half erect, and forces me to my knees in front of him, gripping my hair tightly in his fists as he pushes his hips towards my face. I resign myself to the inevitability and to tell the truth, the sight of his cock, thick, long, and beautifully shaped, has always turned me on. I take his rigid flesh into my mouth and begin to suck, my tongue flicking against the sensitive underside, thinking that maybe I can just get him off this way so that he can go to bed and sleep it off, but he is not that drunk that he doesn’t have other ideas. He pulls his cock out of my mouth with a wet pop and spins me around, bending me roughly over the couch. I feel the head of his cock probing at the entrance to my pussy and as he shoves it into me without even touching me down there, I am grateful that I am already a little wet. Even so, it hurts me.

It is over quickly. After a few hard thrusts, I feel his cock swell inside my pussy and he starts cumming. He spills so much inside me that I can feel it running down my thighs. Panting, he pulls out of me, trying to kiss me. I shy away from the stench of the whiskey on his breath. He looks at me.

Withdrawing from her now gushing hole, I grab the edge of her nightgown, wipe the mess from my cock, and draw her into me for a passionate kiss.

“Well now, that wasn’t bad, Tiff, if only you would move more when I’m fucking you I’d enjoy it more. I hope you liked your little present. I am heading back to O’Malley’s for some dinner, I guess, while you clean up. Maybe when I come back we can do it again, if you’re not too exhausted from the first round…RAR!”

Feeling a bit better about things now that I have had a good release, finally, I head back down to the bar to see if Davey and the crew are still around. Unfortunately, when I return the bar is almost empty, so I grab my usual chair, order a burger and bar fries, and sit alone while the west coast baseball game plays on the TV overhead.

Now I am really looking forward to meeting that therapist tomorrow. Whatever she has to tell me, cannot be worse than what has just taken place. The irony of it all is that I still love my husband desperately, even if things have cooled between us. I go take a shower, and under the warm water, I play with my pussy and my clit, frantically rubbing at my tender flesh, finally feeling myself cum, crying now, because for some reason the fantasy that played through my head as I was masturbating contained both Tom and Lucy....at the same time. I don’t know why! I feel so confused and I’m ready to find some answers.....I sit on the couch with the lights off, sipping a glass of wine, waiting for my husband to come home...

As I replace the handset in its cradle, the conversation sparks a few memories from a few years ago. ‘Society wedding of the year, Mr Tom Alexander weds college sweetheart’ - the papers were full of the enormous ‘do’ in Hawaii. OK Magazine even got in on the merry-go-round, especially when there were rumours of a small dalliance by Tom with one of the bridesmaids. I also remember something about his career taking a nosedive, ‘time for a little investigation,’ I think to myself.

A little time on Google and a few phone calls later, I have all the relevant information that I need. ‘Just a few more jobs to do today and I can go for a long bath,’ I sigh and busy myself with the remaining paper work.

Five hours later and I am soaking in the scent-filled bathroom, bubbles up to my chin and candles flickering in the dimming autumn light of day. A bottle of wine sitting is on the stand and a half-filled glass is in my hand. Closing my eyes, I run through the information about Tom and his little wife, Tiffany. The latest pictures I could find were from a couple of years ago, but at that time, he still had all the makings of a ‘Hugo Boss’ model. I smile to myself as my free hand slides gently across my skin beneath the water. Down over my breast, following the curve of my stomach past my belly button and resting on my soft mound, which was already tingling as preparations, took place in my mind.

Ideas flooded my head as my fingers slid between my soft lips hotting up now without any help from the steaming water. Taking another sip of wine then replacing the glass on the stand next to the bottle, I take a little time for myself. I gently swirl my fingers over my soft folds, revelling in the sensual waves that flow into my body with each stroke. The heat from the water and the remnants of work are making me sleepy as I slip my finger inside my hot moist sheath. I gasp a little and bite my bottom lip as my muscles contract and I welcome the sweet diversion.

My mind wanders back to Lucy’s phone call earlier in the day, and then flits to the thought of her offer, a photo shoot, now that could be interesting. I was very fond of Lucy; she was a delightful creature. Young Tiffany, now she was another matter. It looks like she is in dire need of some help. I am sure the plans I have in mind to teach her husband a lesson, will be perfect for a happy ending.

“ Damn,” I mutter under my breath as I hear the phone go, ‘Ignore it, it can wait,’ I think, but it just keeps ringing. Suddenly it stops and I breathe a sigh of relief, until it starts again. ‘No peace for the wicked’, shaking my head, I get out of the bath, throw a towelling robe around me, and pad into the hall to answer it.

The information I need. John, my investigator has come up trumps again; time to put the plan into action. I go and pull the plug in the bath, grab the glass and bottle and head for the bedroom to get dressed.