by Mags Hayward
Francine stared at the ceiling. Spreading her arms, she steadied herself as the mattress beneath her dipped rhythmically. She turned her head, the dark clouds scudding past a crack in the curtains catching her eye. Rain speckled the window, tapping lightly, the fat water droplets clinging to the glass before racing downward.
Glass cleaner, she thought, looking at the trails, and toilet paper, we're almost out. Oh, and sugar. Mustn't forget. She shifted her gaze back to the ceiling. I quite fancy some muesli too, that nice stuff with the fruity bits. I could call in at the shop tomorrow – ugh!
She winced as the weight on top of her increased and wrinkled her nose at the stench of sweat invading her nostrils. And deodorant, she thought as the rhythmic dipping went on… and on… Catching herself yawning, she quickly turned the sound into a breathy sigh.
"Oh baby, yes. I know you love this."
Really? The monotonous, metronomic undulating continued and Francine rolled her eyes. Oh, Ralph…
He never seemed to notice her lack of enthusiasm. Stifling another yawn, she studied the display of photographs hanging on the wall – a haphazardly arranged, non-chronological, all-smiles history of her twenty-three-year marriage.
Twenty-three years? She flinched as Ralph grunted in her ear.
"Oh baby, are you close?"
Close to what? Falling asleep? Taking his question as her cue, Francine moaned and snaked her hips a little. "Yes… yes." Oh dear, did that sound convincing?
"Oh baby, me too."
Yes, it obviously did. Francine flexed her pelvic floor muscles and made some suitably 'orgasmic' moans which prompted Ralph to clutch her arse in his pudgy hands. Almost over… A few more thrusts and he stiffened, groaned, and shot his load. Job done. She waited patiently for him to finish then roughly pushed him off her. Yuck! He's so sweaty.
Francine wasn't fond of Ralph's bodily secretions. She could tolerate him perfectly well when showered, deodorised, and dressed but his post-sex sweaty sheen turned her stomach. It wasn't that she hated sweat per se – a sweaty, passionate man was quite a turn-on. But not Ralph. A sweaty Ralph was deeply unpleasant.
She stared at his shiny back and shook her head. Oh, Ralph… She'd married him for love and he was good to her, but she didn't find him attractive. Hadn't for years.
"Shower," he said, rolling to the edge of the bed.
Good idea. "You first," said Francine brightly.
The bed bounced alarmingly as Ralph stood and Francine watched him waddle toward the bathroom. She lay still while he fumbled with his dressing gown, trying to put it on – quite why he needed it, she couldn't fathom.
Ralph blew a kiss. "Love you, babe. Was that okay?"
"Yes, of course," she said, sweetly.
Lies. Ralph was crap in bed. Always had been. He'd been a disappointment when they first met, but Francine loved him and thought the sex would improve. She sighed. Twenty-three years later he was still giving her the same ten-minute missionary fuck at a steady, dull pace. No experimentation, no variety. He'd resisted all efforts to spice up their love life to the point that Francine had given up. It was easy enough to fake enjoyment and far less hassle than trying to coach him.
Dressing gown eventually on, Ralph trudged to the bathroom. The light clicked on. The fan whirred into life. Water thundered into the shower tray.
Finally… Rolling over, Francine reached beneath the bed and extracted a brown padded envelope from among the heaps of Ralph's clutter. Sitting upright, she opened it, taking out a plain white cardboard tube that rattled when she shook it. She picked the already loose tape from the end and tipped out the contents.
"Hello again," she whispered.
She studied the object in her palm. A new acquisition, delivered that day, she'd had a quick look when she got home from work but Ralph's appearance had prevented proper inspection. Ralph… She listened, her gaze on the doorway. Hearing nothing unusual, she returned her attention to the item in her hand.
Metallic silver, Francine's plastic 'toy' was lightweight and considerably smaller than her other vibrators. It was powered, she quickly discovered, by a single AA battery which made her question it's potential effectiveness, but as a 'freebie' from her favourite internet adult store – a 'thank you' for being a faithful customer – it wasn't at all bad.
She eagerly turned it on. Ooh… it buzzed gently in her hand. Not too loud, not too vigorous. Francine closed her fingers around it and smiled. She wasn't without her sexual needs. In fact, she was horny as hell most of the time and the idea of pleasuring herself with this free gift, secretly, while her feckless husband was in the shower, made her wetter than Niagara Falls.
Sliding under the duvet, she parted her thighs. She touched her clit with the tip of the vibrator. Mmm… the new toy felt surprisingly good. The vibrations tickled her pussy creating lovely tingles. She ran the tapered tip along her slit, pausing over her entrance. Heat began to build; a needy warmth, completely absent during sex with Ralph, and her juices were flowing – first time that day. The tip of the vibrator slipped smoothly inside her. Excited, she pushed it deeper.
"Oh my," she murmured, "that is good."
She relaxed and angled the vibrator so it pressed on her clit. Nice. Her pussy pulsed from the mechanical waves stimulating her. Very nice.
Closing her eyes, Francine filled her mind with sexy images. Men, lots of men. Red-headed men. Lanky red-headed men with messy hair and glasses. And no clothes… maybe just a shirt. Definitely no trousers or boxers.
She wriggled her bottom and slid the vibrator deeper. Realigning, she eased it in and out, fucking her hole with the slender, vibrating tube. Her head lolled to one side and a moan drifted from her lips. She drew her knees up then let them fall open. Growing tremors made her restless and she shifted position.
"Ooh… now then…"
Scrunching up her face, she concentrated on the images, hoping they'd enhance the strength of her orgasm. Clever red-headed men who actually understand the person specifications on The Guardian job ads – geeks. She moaned again. Louder. Geeks with huge cocks who want to fuck me, fill me, do all sorts of nasty, dirty—
Ralph coughed and something fell, hitting the shower tray with a thud. Francine froze. The vibrator buzzed busily in her pussy but, eyes wide, she stared at the doorway. She listened – heard cursing, the squeak of feet on wet plastic, the continuous drumming of water. Still showering. Francine exhaled but, alerted to the taunting tick of time, she knew she had to be quick.
Retracting the vibrator, she pressed it against her clitoris. The sexy images were gone and wouldn't return, so the mechanical vibrations must work their magic alone. Francine eased the vibrator in and out, in and out.
Ooh… She arched her back as her pussy muscles contracted, squeezing tight. Her sex throbbed, an orgasm imminent. Any moment… yes… close…
"What the..."
The vibrator sputtered and slowed. The power weakened rapidly, the blissful vibrations reducing to nothing.
"No! It can't…" Balanced on the brink of climax, Francine shook the vibrator, desperate for it to kick start. "Oh, come on… Please!"
It was no good. The battery was flat, dead as a dodo. She slapped a hand to her forehead. A thank you gift? Excess stock that's been lying around for years, more like. She puffed out her cheeks and held the vibrator aloft. Sticky goo glistened on the plastic. And it was working so well. She touched the warm secretions with a fingertip then popped the vibrator into her mouth. Mmm… She sucked and swallowed.
"One last try…"
Francine switched the vibrator off and on again, groaning when nothing happened. Reluctantly, she wiped the lifeless toy and hunted for its packaging. She slipped it back into the tube and was opening the padded bag when the shower stopped.
"Shit!"
Francine hurriedly shoved both box and bag under the bed. She sat up, plumped her pillows and struck a 'relaxed' pose. But she fidgeted, she couldn't help it. Her pussy pulsated, the teasing tingles continuing unabated. She longed for release.
"Shower's yours," called Ralph.
The shower, yes… she could finger herself in the shower until she climaxed. It wouldn't take long – she touched her sex – not long at all.
But the idea somehow didn't appeal; she'd masturbated in the shower countless times. No, she craved something different, more adventurous. Francine licked her lips tasting the residue of her salty secretions… I've not had a mouthful of cum for a while… Ralph?
Horny and frustrated, Francine eyed the doorway, waiting for Ralph to appear. When he did, she angled her body – back arched, breasts pushed out – and beckoned to him. He was clean after all, not sweaty, and a clean cock would feel good in her mouth no matter who it belonged to…
She fluttered her eyelashes. "Oh, Ralph…"
"What is it, love?" he asked, lumbering toward her.
Francine slid to the edge of the bed, gaze fixed on her husband, impish smile on her lips. As soon as he was within reach, she grabbed him and pulled him close. Flipping his dressing gown open, she stuffed his cock into her mouth. Ooh… it felt good: hot, soft, with a slight tang of shower gel. Francine sucked with all her might.
Ralph's cock hardened surprisingly quickly.
"Darling… oh…" He gasped. "This is… so…" His pudgy fingers twisted Francine's hair, and his belly rose and fell as he panted. "Oh my, I'm going… going to…"
Ralph tensed and uttered a strange, strangled whimper. His fingers dug into Francine's scalp and he coated her tongue with hot, sticky cum. Delighted by the taste, thrilled by her own spontaneity, Francine's body shook with spasms. She pressed her thighs together and cried out, the cock slipping from her mouth. Cum dripped down her chin and plopped onto her boobs.
Ralph gaped. "Well, that… erm… " Wiping his brow, he stared at his wife as if she were a stranger. "Your turn for the shower?"
"I probably should but…" Francine touched her breasts, rubbing Ralph's secretions into her flesh. She licked the tip of a sticky finger. "It seems a shame, don't you think?"
She watched Ralph's jaw fall open. How satisfying. Grinning from ear to ear, she slid off the bed and trotted towards the shower. Enough. She was done. She'd sleep well that night and so would Ralph. And maybe, once he's asleep, I can put a new battery into—
"Damn!" she said aloud. "Batteries. I don't have any spare."
Adding them to her mental shopping list, Francine closed the bathroom door and switched on the shower. Batteries… Yes, she'd try her new toy again as soon as she'd bought some. Stepping under the torrent, she squirted shower gel onto her cum-caked skin. She smiled… then sighed. She did love Ralph – well, like him, at least – and it didn't really matter if he improved in bed, not now she'd discovered online 'toy' shops.
She soaped between her thighs.
Hmm, what shall I buy next?
About Mags Hayward:
Originally from North Wales, Mags Hayward lives in the UK Midlands with her family. Theatre Administrator by day, she writes contemporary romance and erotic romance. www.magshayward.wordpress.com
