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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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Another dull Saturday evening!
'I can't take much more of this', Lisa mutters to herself. Another weekend of boredom. Her husband Greg is upstairs watching football on the telly. She can hear the tv faintly as she sits in the silent sitting room. She pictures him up there, sprawled on the bed, beer resting on his gut, scratching his balls as another burp escapes him.
'What the fuck am I doing here?', she asks herself.
She swore to make an effort tonight. Her sexiest underwear on, tight black knee-length skirt, plunging red top. Looking in the mirror, she knew she looked great. Greg however, simply sucked up his dinner and disappeared up the stairs after a cursory peck on the cheek.
Standing in front of the mirror above the fireplace, Lisa runs her hands down her hips, over the soft fabric of her skirt.
'Maybe I should let someone else appreciate me', getting angrier as she considers how Greg pays such little attention to her now.
She unzips her skirt and lets it fall to her feet. Then, she slips her top off over her head, letting it drop to the floor beside her. Grabbing her wine glass from the mantelpiece, she runs her hand over her body again. Letting her fingers glide over her soft, velvet skin. She wasn't big headed, but she knew she still looked fantastic.
Her hand slides over her chest as she watches her reflection. Her bra perfectly smooth over her chest. The silk embroidery feeling so soft beneath her fingertips. She takes another sip of wine and lets her hand glide down her stomach. Her delicate fingers slip over her suspender belt. Parting her feet a little, she lets her hand drift over her freshly shaven pubic triangle.
She always felt so sexy when she didn't put any knickers on. Letting her fingers glide over her smooth skin, her hips swayed from side to side a little, as her gaze wandered over her stocking clad thighs. Her supple legs looking great.
'I still look good while Greg lies upstairs like a slab of lard, sweating like a dirty animal while he wastes his life in front of the tv. Well I have had enough. I don't deserve this, and he certainly doesn't deserve me.'
She rests her glass back down and strides over to the front door. Lifting her long leather coat off the hook, she wraps herself in it before grabbing the car keys. Not pausing to think, fearful she will talk herself out of it, she walks out the door into the crisp November air. The chill washes over her body, sending a shiver down her spine. With her heart pounding on her chest, she gets in the car and speeds off. Half naked under her coat, she doesn't know where she is going.
But one thing is for sure, wherever she ends up, she is not wasting any more time sitting around doing nothing all weekend, every weekend. It's time to get some fun, some real fucking life again.
T.B.C. |
lots more
