Combined with the perfect feel of her heat wrapping his cock, it was like holding up a mountain to not pound into her furiously . Not yet. Oh but he would. And she’d scream his name over and over, that much he knew.
God! My fingers swirled rapidly over my clit . L ov ed how dominant Jed was. Pound into me furiously…till I screamed his name…over and over…mmm, yes, yes, yes. My orgasm surged. I opened my legs as wide as I could and arched my back with the wonderful release, imagining a man who adored me , ramming into me while holding my legs back. Yes, yes. I shuddered through the avalanche of sweet pleasure for five whole seconds before t he familiar ache that always came with masturbating to a fantasy I could never have, ebbed i n. Not wanting to totally ruin the moment, I put my Kindle on the bedside table and turned on my side, taking deep breaths.
Flashes of my husband’s sweaty bod y on another woman’s obliterated the joy and rapture my little in your pathetic sad dreams fantasy had given. I b rought my knees up to stave the pain that now clenched the air right out of my chest . I strained under the pressure of it, wondering if I w ould ever not fantasize about that nightmare? Might as well be a fucking fantasy the way it plagued me . Fucking bastard. How could he do that to me ? Why did I stay? What was the point?
The kids.
My eyes ached with the gather of tears. It wasn’t the kid’s fault I had an unfaithful husband. I had grounds for divorce, but did I have grounds to make them suffer for my lousy choices? Not only that, where would I go? What would I do? With eight kids? No man would want me now. Well, six kids still at home. That was a lot to most. I was forty-two and used up. I didn’t just have baggage, I had an effin circus with baggage.
If only he was half the husband he was a father. Bastard. Or if only he’d beat me , then I’d have to leave. But no. He just treated me like…like nobody special, not somebody he desired or needed, or even wanted. I was the mother to his children, the housekeeper, the bookkeeper, the peacekeeper , the shit eating saint .
I burrowed down into my pillow. My children were worth it. Hell yes they were. Plus this was the right thing to do. There was always that comfort. I’d pretend for them. Pretend we were in love. John was good at pretending that around them. After all, he knew that was important for the kids to see. After all, he was a preacher, a godly man.
Snake.
Lord, help me not hate that man . You know I can’t do this hating him. And help me not kill him. Help me last till the kids are grown, then we’ll just happen to buy a camp and he’ll just happen to live there most of the time while I stay at home. And he wonders why I’m on the computer all the time. How dare he wonder .. . h ow dare he? If it weren’t for my online friends, where in the world would I be? In jail for murder, that’s where.
I thought about Steve , the new guy in their Facebook group. W hat a flatterer. You have the face of an angel. I opened my eyes for the mere sake of rolling them. Like I’d be stupid enough to just believe the dude actually meant a single word he said. He was probably inboxing every other woman in the group in every group on F acebook. What I wouldn’t give to just know that. Bust him.
He was fun, though. Funny too. Mr. Witty. Mr. Clever. Mr. make all the women want him. Profile pic all hot. Probably fat as a barn with titties bigger than mine . Well, that wouldn’t take much. Titties bigger than my ass , then . And an inverted penis. I giggled at the image in my head.
And Morgan ! He surely didn’t like the dude. It was kinda cute how much he inboxed me about being wary of him. If I didn’t know better, he seemed jealous. I smiled, happy with the idea that he might be. Morgan was such a damn sweetie. What I wouldn’t give to have a husband like that. So damn attentive and supportive. E ven supported my sad attempts at writing. Always
God! My fingers swirled rapidly over my clit . L ov ed how dominant Jed was. Pound into me furiously…till I screamed his name…over and over…mmm, yes, yes, yes. My orgasm surged. I opened my legs as wide as I could and arched my back with the wonderful release, imagining a man who adored me , ramming into me while holding my legs back. Yes, yes. I shuddered through the avalanche of sweet pleasure for five whole seconds before t he familiar ache that always came with masturbating to a fantasy I could never have, ebbed i n. Not wanting to totally ruin the moment, I put my Kindle on the bedside table and turned on my side, taking deep breaths.
Flashes of my husband’s sweaty bod y on another woman’s obliterated the joy and rapture my little in your pathetic sad dreams fantasy had given. I b rought my knees up to stave the pain that now clenched the air right out of my chest . I strained under the pressure of it, wondering if I w ould ever not fantasize about that nightmare? Might as well be a fucking fantasy the way it plagued me . Fucking bastard. How could he do that to me ? Why did I stay? What was the point?
The kids.
My eyes ached with the gather of tears. It wasn’t the kid’s fault I had an unfaithful husband. I had grounds for divorce, but did I have grounds to make them suffer for my lousy choices? Not only that, where would I go? What would I do? With eight kids? No man would want me now. Well, six kids still at home. That was a lot to most. I was forty-two and used up. I didn’t just have baggage, I had an effin circus with baggage.
If only he was half the husband he was a father. Bastard. Or if only he’d beat me , then I’d have to leave. But no. He just treated me like…like nobody special, not somebody he desired or needed, or even wanted. I was the mother to his children, the housekeeper, the bookkeeper, the peacekeeper , the shit eating saint .
I burrowed down into my pillow. My children were worth it. Hell yes they were. Plus this was the right thing to do. There was always that comfort. I’d pretend for them. Pretend we were in love. John was good at pretending that around them. After all, he knew that was important for the kids to see. After all, he was a preacher, a godly man.
Snake.
Lord, help me not hate that man . You know I can’t do this hating him. And help me not kill him. Help me last till the kids are grown, then we’ll just happen to buy a camp and he’ll just happen to live there most of the time while I stay at home. And he wonders why I’m on the computer all the time. How dare he wonder .. . h ow dare he? If it weren’t for my online friends, where in the world would I be? In jail for murder, that’s where.
I thought about Steve , the new guy in their Facebook group. W hat a flatterer. You have the face of an angel. I opened my eyes for the mere sake of rolling them. Like I’d be stupid enough to just believe the dude actually meant a single word he said. He was probably inboxing every other woman in the group in every group on F acebook. What I wouldn’t give to just know that. Bust him.
He was fun, though. Funny too. Mr. Witty. Mr. Clever. Mr. make all the women want him. Profile pic all hot. Probably fat as a barn with titties bigger than mine . Well, that wouldn’t take much. Titties bigger than my ass , then . And an inverted penis. I giggled at the image in my head.
And Morgan ! He surely didn’t like the dude. It was kinda cute how much he inboxed me about being wary of him. If I didn’t know better, he seemed jealous. I smiled, happy with the idea that he might be. Morgan was such a damn sweetie. What I wouldn’t give to have a husband like that. So damn attentive and supportive. E ven supported my sad attempts at writing. Always
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