She sighed anew as she stepped into the shower, enjoying the rush of the hot water washing over her. Yes, it had. Three years since David had left, and the blessings of regular sex had become forcibly apparent to her. Two years since they had been divorced for good. Over a year-and-a-half since her date with Bess Winthrop’s smutty brother, and their heated (and much too quick) union in a cheap motel room. And that had been more of a caving in than a bout of genuine passion. She had been desperate and drunk that night, and could barely remember what any of their sex had felt like. All she remembered was what an ass he’d been afterward: didn’t call her, had nothing to say when she accidentally bumped into him. Apparently he had gotten what he wanted and was off. Bess had been apologetic, but who the fuck cared about apologies?
That abortive affair had pretty much poisoned her against other possibilities. Melinda’s other dates (and there hadn’t been many) had all ended sexless. And why shouldn’t they, she thought. She’d rather do herself than let in men who didn’t care a damn about her. Still, a year-and-a-half. At least. It would be so nice, so very nice, to be sharing all this steamy wetness with a loving man. So lovely to reach down amid all this clinging heat to find his hard, dripping cock by her side, entreating entrance. So wonderful to feel him tugging gently at her too sensitive nipples, running his tongue around the aureoles . . .
Damn, she was doing it again! She couldn’t even take a shower without playing with herself! Again, she made herself leave her nipples alone, and tried to concentrate on what she was doing. She needed to get clean, get in bed, get to sleep — lots of work tomorrow, almost a full day of patients for Dr. Malone. She told herself repeatedly to focus, to get to bed and asleep as soon as possible, that it was late already. Of course, she knew it was no use: as soon as she hit the sheets, she’d be hungering for pleasure again.
In part, she thought as she dropped her robe and climbed between the sheets, all this frustration was due to her proximity to Joe Teicher. He was the new intern at the office, fresh from medical school: young, devilishly handsome in a kind of “boy band” way, and eternally flirtatious. Whether by accident or design, she and Joe had been working closely at the office lately; they’d even had lunch together the week before. All remained proper and respectable between them in the main — he was, after all, young enough to be her son. In fact he was exactly Denny’s age, she realized with a shock. The same age as her eldest child, and here she was every night, rubbing herself into a frenzy for him.
She couldn’t help it. Melinda found his young, fit body and easy charm to be terribly effective on her sexual organs. Just being around such an obvious and confident stud made her pulse rage sometimes, her knees weaken. Of course, she wouldn’t think of making a move on him, or of responding to a move from him (as if that would happen). His ego was already superabundant, and it made her wince to imagine what he would think of her, rubbing her pussy raw each night from wanting him.
Still, she thought, as she snapped off her light, her fantasies were her own affair, and he didn’t need to know. As she luxuriated in the cool, clean feel of fresh sheets, Melinda imagined the smiling young man with her now. No, not in the bed. That was too good for him. Just standing beside the bed, naked except for some very white, tight briefs. His muscley arms, his wide chest. That incredible smile, and a heated, hungry look in his eyes. He was watching her, and the front of his briefs was swelling.
May I join you? he would say, his voice a low rumble.
Do you want to join me, she’d reply, teasingly.
Very much.
Show me how much.
A flashing white grin, and he’d roll back the briefs. There he was, all of his hardness hanging in the air right next to her.
Mmm. You want to join me quite a bit, I think.
Yes, I do.
Not just yet, Joe. Why don’t you just watch me a while?
Oh yeah . . . Now that would be fun, she thought, giving her nipples a few solid, wrenching tugs in turn. Not letting him just climb on top of her like the selfish prick he was. Just letting him watch her, making him want her. Oh, she was so wet already. Christ, she was sopping. The whole idea was intoxicating: the young, virile, sexy man, forced to just watch her, getting harder and harder. Teasing him. Prolonging his torment. Utterly in control.
Her cheeks heated, her breathing growing quicker, Melinda eased her tits out of their flimsy confines beneath the sheets, allowing her grasping fingers to work their magic uninhibited. Yes, she had such big, lovely, smooth tits. So nice to squeeze and caress.
You’d love to squeeze them, wouldn’t you, Joe?
Damn right I would, Melinda.
I can tell you would. You can touch that if you want to, by the way.
I’d rather you touched it
Mmm, I bet you would. Oh well — suit yourself.
Yeah. She would rub her tits ever so lovingly, ever so seductively in front of his starving eyes. Eventually he would cave in, would grab his throbbing tool and start stroking it, never taking his eyes off of her. He would want her — she would make him want her.
Suddenly Melinda wanted to feel this fantasy — to feel it in every possible way. She thrust the top sheet away from her, felt the cool breath of the night air on her bare breasts. Her nipples, already rock hard, throbbed in appreciation. Joe would be looking at those nipples with his mouth watering, she thought. Smug little fucker.
Just what would he see, she wondered — if he were here, with her, right now. She reached over and twisted open the blinds of her bedside window, allowing the pale blue moonlight to bathe her body in its glow. Hmm, not bad. The moonlight was far more flattering than the harsh lightbulbs in the bathroom. Her spacious tits and upturned nipples, her thighs beyond, all looked creamy and warm in the blue glow.
Her fantasy spectator still very much in her head, Melinda found herself getting excited by the sight of her own body in the flattering light. The idea of tormenting the cocksure young stallion seemed much more believable to her now, as she pulled away the rest of the sheet, and sat up to remove her nightgown. There, she thought, as she lay flat again and surveyed herself. Now I look good enough to eat.
You look good enough to eat, baby.
You wish, Joe. You just hold your horses for a while.
Yes, very nice indeed. The pattern of the blinds on her dreamily lit body somehow de-emphasized her imperfections, lessened her flaws. Her waist didn’t look quite so thick to her, her legs were more slender. And her tits! They were sublime — a man would have to be queer not to want them desperately.
Melinda’s temperature was now going through the roof. Her pussy ached and throbbed — she rubbed at it through her panties as she squirmed and wriggled on the bed, enjoying the tempting jiggle of her breasts, savoring the reckless look she imagined in Joe’s eyes, his fingers’ quickening pace on his own swollen tool.
Oh God . . . Don’t stop, Melinda. Please.
Don’t stop what, dear?
Don’t stop . . . taking it off. Please, I want to see all of you.
Are you sure you can handle it?
Twisting at her left breast with one hand, she used the other to yank at her rapidly dampening panties, easing her butt off the bed slightly to get them off. Now. Yes, she was naked and lovely and desirable in the soft cool glow. Her hips swiveled invitingly against the sheet, her pussy was a dark, swelling mount between the creamy skin. Any man would want her. All men would want her.
Melinda closed her eyes and rubbed her open palm lightly against her crotch, never ceasing her attentions to her nipples with the other hand. She was silky, warm, wet to the slightest touch. She let one finger slide languorously along her cleft — that was Joe’s tongue, she was allowing him a taste — and waves and ripples of pleasure rocked through her. Suddenly her fantasy was splitting in two — she wanted poor Joe to just watch and want her, but she also wanted him in her, fucking her, making her cum. In her mind she made herself slow down. He was still there beside the bed, stroking his big cock. Yes, she had allowed him one taste but that was all for now. But her fingers quickened — she rapidly delved two of them deep into herself. She was ovening hot inside, and so wet that her fingers made wonderful squelching sounds each time she withdrew them.
For a long time, how long it was impossible to tell, Melinda squirmed and gyrated on the bed, her fingers working madly in and out and all around her drenched pussy. Sometimes Joe was still there, watching her frenzy with puppy dog eyes. Other times it was his fingers working her — his tongue lapping up her flowing juices. She just couldn’t make up her mind, and frankly, she didn’t care by now. It all felt so good. The cool air on her naked body, the bounce of her tits, the romantic moonlight, the dancing pressure of her (his!) fingers. Even the wet spot beneath her ass, growing wetter and wider by the minute. All so damn good.
There was one thing, however, that she could make up her mind about. It was time to be fucked.