You stir, your head feels as though it being squeezed with has elephants running around inside. That isn't the least of your pain. Your ankles and wrists are sore, not agonising pain more delicate, as though they are grazed. Worse are your legs and your insides and throat are almost burning.
Quizzing yourself you start to remember. All those men, all that cum. How many times, the ecstacy. You feel proud inside, you actually did something for you. Then the guilt hits, you start to wonder what people would think if they knew. What if your husband found out?
Then your brain kicks into overdrive. Puzzlement, where are you, what time is it, where are your clothes?
"Morning", I greet you from the shadows. "Its not surprising you slept so well after all that activity. I can tell you enjoyed yourself. You must be very satisfied. You have the day to yourself, wash, sleep, relax. Your husband will be back later this evening, make sure your ready." As I walk out the door the questions tumble to the front of your mind but never make it out of you mouth. "Don't worry, I have the video", I proclaim as I leave.
Your mind races. You press rewind in your memory, you can't remember cameras, or can you. You bury your head in your hands, panicing and drift off again.
"Thump, thump, thump!", you wake startled. The front door is being pounded. You quickly try and get up. Your sore, very sore. Walking you feel as though you bits of sand between your legs. Grabbing the sheet from the bed you make your way downstairs and make your way to the door. Opening it you recognise the brown uniform.
"Morning, delivery for ...."
Hurriedly you sign and try to snatch the parcel and get inside. You didn't wrap the sheet very well and you can feel the cool morning air gathering goose bumps on your shoulders and backside.
The face in front of you looks familiar but you can't quite place it.
"Hard night?", he asks. You mumble something and hurry back inside. Flashing your derrière to the whole tree lined street. A wolf whistle proclaims your glory as you close the door. You look at the package, the return address seems to be a company name, SiR. You don't recognise it.
Thirst has taken over from the soreness in your throat as you shuffle into the kitchen, letting the sheet drop from your grip you catch a glimpse of yourself in the hall mirror. Your hair is every where but where it should be, matted and dishevelled. Your hands and wrists are red. Your breasts are swollen and nipples erect, now bright red rather than their usual colour. You look closely at your skin, you suddenly realise what the dried streaks are. You struggle to the shower and start washing all the remains of last night from you skin. The passion and ecstasy has gone. You feel guilty for a moment but fight it away. You wanted last night, you did. You wonder if your just trying to convince yourself as the guilt slowly starts to creep in again.
You start to feel more awake as the water runs through your hair, working its magic as the dark strands once again cover your shoulders and upper breasts. No longer wrapped up tightly in the fancy style you had done for last night. You start to wonder about how you got home, where your dress had gone, the cost of it, it was worth it. As you wash the men from your skin you remember moments. The size of the endowed. The number stood around admiring, masturbating, adoring you in wave after wave of their juices.
Last night's feelings return deep in your body. You feel your heart start to race, the tingling returns to your groin. Your soapy hands stop their cleansing and start to massage. Gently building on the arousing memories firing through your mind. You run your hands down your neck tracing the lines over your breasts to your nipples. A gentle intake of breath, you hold it as you remember all those hands moving over you. The intensity increases. You can feel your lips swelling. The temptations grow, tenderly you rub your, stomach, moving lower over your hips to your inner thigh. Goose bumps add to the tingling on your skin. The warm water running over your skin adds to the excitement. Your amazed, almost scared, at how horny you feel.
lacie_james-4_070.jpg You stop yourself for a moment. What about your husband. Forgetting him you continue to allow your memory of last night to invade your mind. He soreness in your throat reminds you how deeply you accepted them, every one of them, so many you cannot count. The pounding in your ears spurs your memory. You start to squeeze your breasts, your nipples are sore but that heightens your arousal. You cannot stop yourself, one, two, three fingers are buried as deeply in you as you can manage. You slump to the floor allowing the water to pulse on you as you rapidly work yourself closer and closer.
The phone rings, jarring you out of the sensual moment, suddenly the thought of your husband slams into your mind. Cursing, you grab a towel, wrapping it round you and shuffle to the bedroom.
You manage to pick it up just before it goes to voice mail.
"What was in the package?", I ask, "Remember your secret is safe". Before you have chance to answer the phone's dead.
Frustration almost anger wells up inside, you were so close. That's not the only thing that angers you, its the fact that you feel out of control. The slightest thing starts a sexual surge in you. You can never remember feeling like this ever. In your mid thirties and now hornier than a teenager. You wonder if this is what people mean about women in their prime. You realise something powerful has been awakened last night and you afraid you cannot control it.
You rustle through your hair with the towel and wrap it around you. It barely covers your bum cheeks and from the front you are nearly indecent. Usually you would dress fully before leaving the bathroom. Somehow you just don't care. Finding it easier to move but still painful, you enjoy the feeling of air between you legs as you descend the stairs, the clearly exposing yourself with every step. You find the package in front of the mirror, dented on one corner. Like a little girl at Christmas you hurriedly scratch open the paper. A note falls to the floor as you hold the plain brown box in your hands.
You wonder what to open first, you pick up the note and make your way to the kitchen. Placing the box on the counter you perch on one of the bar stools, legs apart. You wonder how one night can change you. Normally you would be so prim and proper worrying about someone finding you in such state.
"How are you this morning my dear? I do hope you are not too sore. I found a little camomile helps with the redness on your wrists and ankles. If your very sore down below, bathe in some lavender oil. No doubt your mind is every where at the moment, I remember mine was. It looks like you had a really good time and I'm very impressed at how much you got through. I think you are number one and will be for some time. Make sure you act as your husband expects when he returns. Enjoy the gifts and make sure you hide it well.
One last thing, you should destroy this note, we want to protect our little secret don't we.
Puzzled you turn your attention to the box.