Chapter 1
Laura shifted slightly in the bed, her tits jerking as the half-daze of approaching sleep crept over her. Jim was snuggled up against her back, one hand over her hip. She was vaguely aware of hearing the living room clock strike the hour of one in the morning. Blurred shapes flitted across her mind, recurring patterns, as if she were standing too close to a madly spinning carousel. Then they began to slow down, still blurred, but slower, fainter, gradually fading away from her.
The pressure on her hip changed. She felt Jim's fingertips slowly glide over her nylon-covered belly. His middle finger came to rest at the junction of her thighs and began to massage her clit through the slippery material of her gown. The pressing finger moved in a small circle. Sleep retreated as her body responded to its touch. That familiar warm feeling began to spread from that little nub of flesh that was hardening under the attention it was receiving. Sleep faded farther away as the glow moved up her body. It felt so good, easy and slow.
Wanting more, she rolled onto her back, pressing her side against the front of Jim's body. She felt his prick grind against her hip. She reached down and wrapped her fingers around the semihard cock as it stuck out from his pajamas. She felt, more than heard, his approving sigh at her ear. Automatically, her fingers began to milk the quickly stiffening length of his cock as she tried to concentrate on the vibrations that were still slowly building between her legs.
She opened her legs a little, hoping he wouldn't stop. The hand changed position, the finger slipping inside her moist cunt while the palm maintained the pressure on her clit. His hand cupped her, gently rocking, finger going in and out. The glow became warmer, almost to the hot stage. Soon now, she thought, soon.
She felt Jim's weight shift as he raised himself over her. Not yet! Wait! But she knew it would be like it had been so many times before. She felt the blunt head poking, searching for the entrance, and threw her legs open. She reached down and guided it home. It quickly slid all the way inside of her.
His mouth was at the base of her neck, arms under her shoulders as he began to move his hips. Laura wrapped her arms around his back and threw her hips up to meet his thrusts, working to keep up, willing herself to concentrate her entire being on her husband's long, hard prick as it moved back and forth in her. It was filling her tunnel, expanding the walls, withdrawing, filling, withdrawing. Her abdominal muscles ached with the effort.
Maybe she would make it this time. His movements became faster and shorter, and she knew it was not to be, not this night. She continued her movements and tightened her hold on his body as she felt the warm spurts of cum splashing deep inside of her. He strained against her, kissing and sucking her throat as the jets slowed and finally stopped.
His prick quickly went soft. Jim moved his weight off of her and laid beside her, one hand stroking the nearest tit. •That was sure good, baby," he whispered.
A strangling frustration made it almost impossible for her to speak. "No . . . No, it wasn't."
The nightstand light clicked on. "What? What's wrong?"
Laura raised one hand to shield her eyes from the light. "It's over too soon. You put it in before I'm ready, and come long before I'm even close to orgasm."
She could see the hurt look on his tanned face. She hated herself for having blurted it out, but she had not been able to hold it back any longer.
"I'm sorry, honey," he sighed. "But you know how busy I've been at the lab. Guess I've been preoccupied."
Laura reached out to brush the blond hair back from his forehead.
"Jim, our sex life has been like this ever since we got married. You don't seem to want to make love to me very often, and when you do, it's just too fast for me."
"You mean you've felt this way for three years?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you say something?"
"I don't know. At first I thought it was me, but as time went by I knew better."
She watched his face. The pain and confusion gave way to a broad smile.
"Look, sweetheart. Things have been going a lot better since George and Arthur came in as partners. We just got a big contract with the Air Force. After we get production rolling on it, why don't you and I take off to Acapulco for a couple of weeks and see if we can't do something about this problem? I love you and sure as hell don't want to lose you."
"Darling, there's no real danger of that. I love you too. Some time to ourselves might do us a lot of good."
She reached up, pulled his head down and kissed him, making her lips soft and pliable against his.
"Great! I'll make the reservations tomorrow, and in about two weeks we'll be off on our second honeymoon."
He reached back and switched the light off.
Laura moved into his arms. She loved the feel of his muscular body, his hardness against her softness. Maybe things would be better now. Since taking those men in as partners, Jim's business had picked up, and now it was one of the fastest growing electronics firms in Houston. Some time alone, with no pressures on him, just might help. Maybe then she wouldn't be trying to fall asleep with her stomach knotted up the way it was now, unfulfilled desire. Tomorrow, tomorrow. She drifted off into a fretful, restless sleep with Jim's arms wrapped around her.
She awoke the next morning to find that Jim had already left for work. She slid out of bed and glanced at the clock. He hadn't been gone very long. Not waking her was typical of him. Always considerate . . . well, almost always. Damn! She shouldn't think about it so much. Maybe a shower would help.
She padded into the bathroom, stripped her gown off over her head and stepped into the shower. She turned the water on full force, enjoying the needle-sharp spray beating against her body. She quickly soaped up and rinsed off. She did feel better. She stepped out of the stall and energetically toweled her body dry. Her image in the full-length mirror caught her eye, and she paused to look at herself.
Long, black hair pulled back into the bun she always wore, wet ringlets framing her oval face. Slightly arched brows above green eyes, straight but slightly pug nose, full lips, dimpled chin. Her 105 pounds were spread over a five-foot-five frame. Her tits had always seemed small to her, but they were round and firm, pointed by rosy pink nipples. Her gaze went down the white flatness of her abdomen, the narrow waist, slightly flared hips, the dark triangle of her cunt, white thighs, slim and well-tapered legs, then back to the patch of black hair that curled over the source of her frustration.
Again she felt it coming on, the resentment and gnawing need for completion. Almost unbidden, her hand crept across her stomach, the fingertips brushing through the wet hair. One finger began massaging her clit. She watched herself in the mirror as if that image was some other person, feeling the warmth spreading and building.
The finger moved faster, flicking the hard roundness to and fro, faster and faster. She leaned against the wall and bent her knees slightly, opening her legs. Faster! Her muscles ached from the strain, then she felt the convulsive movement inside her belly, the exploding waves of orgasm flooding through her, one after the other. She felt lightheaded and weak. She didn't know if her legs would hold her up. She shuddered once, twice, again, grateful for the release. If only Jim would do that for her. She roused herself, pushed away from the wall and quickly finished her preparations to face another day.
Later, Laura answered the insistent doorbell to find a policeman standing on the porch, hat in hand, a hard-eyed look set in his face.
"Mrs. Shea?"
A sudden fear gripped her throat. "Yes."
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your husband was killed in an auto accident this morning."
She sagged against the door. "No!"
"I'm sorry. Is there anyone I can call to come and be with you?"
Mind-buckling shock swept through her. "What? Oh. No, there's no one."
"Well, if you're sure. This card will tell you where the remains are, and who to contact."
She collapsed on the couch. "Will you let his office know, please?"
"Someone is already taking care of that, Mrs. Shea."
"Thank you," she murmured.
She sank into the cushions and stared at the brilliant sunlight streaming through the big bay window, hardly aware that the policeman had left. * * * A breeze, blowing through the window of the car, cooled Laura's face as she tried to keep pace with the traffic hurtling north on the highway out of Houston. She didn't know where she was going, and really didn't care.
Jim's partners had taken care of all the details of the funeral. They had been very helpful and attentive. One or the other had brought papers now and then for her signature. She had been grateful. Jim had always taken care of everything. She had never been the aggressive, independent type.
About three weeks after the funeral, they had asked her to meet them at the plant office. She could still see them sitting in the conference room when she had walked in. George was in his fifties, a large man, graying at the temples, smiling, extroverted, the salesman. Arthur was a smaller man, thin, quiet, the bookkeeper. Both were married and had children. George's oldest son was almost her own age. Good, solid, church-going citizens. They had been very polite and friendly when they lowered the boom on her. They had told her that the company insurance had been set up so that the business went to the surviving partners. She was left with no part of the company that her own husband had started. There was nothing she could do about it.
She had only what remained of the small life insurance policy. Determined to get away and build a new life, she had sold all that she owned. She had packed her clothes into her car and headed north. She had no destination, only a future.