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But what was his name? What was his name? Her husband’s name? A suppressed pain. Fear. There is something careless about this kind of forgetting, something unpardonable, a great guilt. Her husband, her master. His face has the quality of a blurred photograph, yet she remembers his rough hands. His rough, calloused hands on her soft breast. She shudders. Feeling foolish she starts through the alphabet, trying to associate a name with each letter: Albert, Benjamin, Charles, Donald… It feels as if every last cell of her brain was driven into illness. Her lack of memory fills her with silent dread. Not my mind, Dear god not my mind! She tries to compose herself. Ernest, Frank… Letter by letter she continues to analyze the sounds and impressions. What is this? Dear god. Dear Jesus, sweet Jesus. George, Harold… She begins to suspect the answer is beyond her reach. She sends out fingers of desire, need, thought- tries to project them into her past, pull out something stable. The images. “One day maybe you give me a show also?”, she said in a low voice.My penis twitched under my towel as she said this, surprising me again. My friend also squeezed my hand gently, conveying that she also found this offhand suggestion something of a turn-on. This weekend was definitely getting weird.I decided to steer the subject back to safer ground.“So anyway, other than the bathroom issues, I think that even the ribbon wasn’t a particularly big problem. We just did everything we would normally do, except for the fact that we were naked when we did it.”We sat in silence for a bit, sipping on our wine.Eventually, the flatmate spoke again.“You should continue your ‘anytheeng’”, she said. “It has no been full 24 hours yet.”I laughed.“Well, circumstances kinda didn’t play along with our plan and we wound up here with you instead!”“So?”, the flatmate responded. “Is still not full time.”I froze again, presuming I had misunderstood what she was suggesting. My friend also froze.The flatmate.
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Who'd whisper in my ear, 'Let's eat later.', and drag me to the nearest couch or bed. I was a healthy, young woman who'd always enjoyed a healthy, active sex drive. Not having the guy in my bed satisfying me was driving me up the wall! For a time my fingers and vibrators of different sizes kept me happy. But only to a point. By the time my stepson was into his second month of junior year I was horny as hell and masturbation just wasn't cutting it any more! Hubby was getting satisfaction from a succession of new, ever changing temporary office help. A cheap, plastic toy in my pussy just didn't compete with having a man on top of me. I began thinking about having my own affair but I had a very good reason to keep my pussy to myself. If I was caught cheating, there went any chance of a nice divorce settlement in my favor. Flushed right down the crapper. I still hadn't made up my mind about what to do. Have an affair or go for the divorce and run with the money I'd get. Then one.

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