Chapter 3: Sexual Hurting

Given her lifelong promiscuity, Danielle finds that she is already bored without Blake around to satisfy her.

After a long, arduous day of slouching in a cubicle and tending to the status of other people's insurance, Danielle finally makes her way home from work. She resides in an apartment near downtown New Orleans, a mere twenty-minute walk from the office building where she and Blake work. It's a two-bedroom, two-bath apartment she's owned ever since she first moved into town, and she's never found a reason to move out of it, even after Blake moved in with her and they eventually got hitched.

She breathes out a sigh of relief as soon as she shuts the door behind her, continuing to pant as she sets her things down and enters the master bedroom to change out of her work clothes. For some reason, Danielle has been feeling a lot more anguished ever since Blake left to serve the country; it's almost as though his presence has this magical effect of lifting her spirits and enhancing her resolve, because whenever he's here, she never feels this way after work.

If anything, she'd be much more ecstatic. Hardly a day goes by in which she and Blake go without seeing each other. The two have the exact same job and work in the exact same building and floor, with their cubicles located at opposite sides of the aisle, allowing them to frequently look over at each other and maybe trade a sultry look or two, regardless of whether they're in the middle of work or lunch. After their shared nine-to-five shift, they usually leave work around the same time and hurry home, barely able to keep their hands off each other during the brisk stroll.

There's a microscopic span of time between the moment they lock themselves in and the moment they start making out. Usually, they make their way to the bedroom with a trail of clothes in their wake, peppered with the occasional piece of jewelry. Sometimes, Danielle will prepare dinner first and suck Blake off under the table as he eats, followed by him returning the favor while she consumes her portion. Regardless of what transpires, Danielle usually keeps her spectacles on during the sex, because Blake claims they make her look even more attractive. In fact, if it weren't for Blake, she would simply ditch the glasses in favor of contacts at all times.

But today, as has been the case for a while now, this is not how things go. Whenever Danielle goes to work, there is no Blake to exchange smiles with across the aisle, captivating her with a view of his slender physique, slicked back black hair and gray eyes. He's not there to walk to and from work with her, have meaningful discussions with, or worst of all, make love to.

That's probably what Danielle misses the most out of every single trait that Blake has. She still strongly remembers bringing him out of his shell and robbing him of his virginity several years ago, showing him the difference between f*****g and making love, all the while being utterly amazed at how perfectly he fits inside her, his excellent recovery time, and how fast of a learner he is in the bedroom. By now, she has all of his moans and grunts memorized and sometimes impersonates them during the rare times when she's forced to use a d***o instead of the real Blake.

At this point, in the midst of all her fantasizing, Danielle has managed to sit on the king-sized canopy bed and strip down to her sheer lace bra and thong. A tube top and some taupe yoga pants are laying out for her, but she ignores them as she dwells on the past. And yet all that dwelling seems to do is make things worse.

"God, what is wrong with me?" Danielle mutters to herself. "Why am I just letting myself sink into a slump? Blake's being strong out there for the sake of the whole country, so I need to be strong for his sake too."

Following yet another sigh, she looks over at the neatly folded clothes on the bed next to her, before her eyes drop to the pile of work clothes on the ground. And right at the bottom of her line of sight, she happens to notice that her left hand has made its way into her underwear. Must be a side-effect of all those sexual thoughts. Removing her slightly wetted hand immediately causes a small reduction of pleasure. Danielle sighs, knowing this is her only option.

After briefly sucking on her fingers, her eyes roll back in pleasure as she quietly moans at the taste. A taste so liberating that she finds herself laying down on her back, now digging both hands into her underwear and repeating the process over and over again. She keeps doing this for a spell, and then she sits back up, slightly out of breath. Hurriedly getting up, she rummages through one of the drawers on her dresser and pulls out her collection of three d****s, each made of a different color and material.

The bright red rubber one in the middle is the one she uses the most, as it was a Christmas present from Blake, and was even modeled after him. She thinks back to Christmas Day, merely a couple years after they tied the knot, and the half-shaken, half-sultry look on her husband's face as he presented it to her, with a golden ribbon tied around its shaft.

Without hesitating any longer, Danielle lies back on the bed and spreads her legs out, before jackhammering the d***o into her core, her moans quickly filling the apartment as a whole and possibly alerting the neighbors, though not that she gives two s***s about that.

Ah well. I guess this will have to do for now, she thinks to herself.