Radical PI
Sport Co

Hell's Scorn

Lying in the bathtub she relsihed the feel of the warm water. She allowed the heat to envelope her body as her hands traced and touched the places where he had caressed and kissed her. Her left hand slid down the side of her face and neck before settling on her left breast; she gently squeezed the nipple while remembering the way he had licked and sofly bit the flesh. She remembered how he seemed to be totally engrossed in her essence as he suckled at her breast while his right hand massaged and kneaded the other. She felt her pussy start to tingle as she reflected on his right hand as it traveled downward to her pelvic region; she allowed her hand to retrace his path. She released a small gasp as her fingers brushed up against her swollen clit; she played with the hair surrounding it as she allowed herself a moment to enjoy the anticipation. Her other hand arrived between her legs and slowly took up the task of tracing the part of her labia that his tongue had explored; she briefly remembered his first efforts to insert himself inside of her. She softly allowed her middle finger to enter the slick, slippery entrance of her canal; just the tip of her finger as she remembered his tongue roaming the same route.
An abrupt knock on the bathroom door snapped her from her fantasy. "Mommy, I need to use it." It was her youngest. "Mommy's in the bath, sweetie, use the downstairs bathroom."
"But when will you be done, Mommy? Angel is being mean and won't play with me."
"Tell her I said to play nice. And make sure you wash your hands after you use the toilet."
"Okay...but I have something to show you."
A classic gambit of little people everywhere. "Okay, honey, I'll be out in a few minutes." She heard her footsteps retreat down the hallway; hopefully her blissful peace and solitude could return. While distractions were an everday occurence in her life, she was starting to reclaim some of her "me-time;" everyone else around the homestead seemed to get a decent amount of alone time, so why was it so wrong for her to have some too? She leaped back to her fantasy as she resumed caressing her inner-thigh.
She used her thumb and middle finger to gently pinch her clitoris; she imagined that it was his lips sofly holding the flesh in place. She used her index finger to rub and massage the swollen nerve endings; she imagined that it was his tongue expertly licking her towards orgasm. As she squeezed harder and rubbed faster, her climax was beginning to build. She eased back and decided to tease herself a little bit longer; she would take a page from his playbook. Another knock on the door and this one caused her to slightly jump. "You all right in there, hun?" It was her husband. "I'm just soaking away some of this stress, boo. I'll be out in a minute."
"Just checkin'. I'm about to run over to Jay's. I shouldn't be too late. Call me if you need anything. The girls are watching some movie, so they might be waiting on you for bedtime. Just a heads up."
"Okay. Be careful out there and don't be too late. You have a big day tomorrow."
"Sure. Love you."
"Love you, too." And she did; love him. She loved him in the way that you loved someone that you had known for your entire life; and past lives. She loved him the way that you loved someone who had taken your virginity; and one of the only people to ever have access to that part of her. But love has its limits. While they built a life together and shared the fruits of their passion, she had observed how he had slowly started to move away from her. At first it was simple comments that seemed to undermine her confidence; where he used to be uplifting and supportive, he started to take jabs at her accomplishments. She reflected on the time that she had earned an important license that could help them on their path to financial well-being. After coming home from taking her final exam and passing, he made a comment pertaining to the legitamacy of the entire program. Questioning whether it was even difficult; wondering if the professors were actual professors. Nothing major, but enough to slightly hurt her feelings and make her doubt her own accomplishment.
She was back in the moment as she slowly slid two fingers into her vagina. The bath water created a problem, but the pressure created by her fingers felt incredible as she continued to play with her clit. Her orgasm felt distant as the interuptions did what interuptions usually do; but the sensation was quickly returning, a million horses were stampeding towards the finish line. Inching closer to climax, her toes began to curl and her left leg began to spasm; the water splashed lightly against the sides of the tub. She pinched her clit hard and decided to take a bit longer in order to enjoy the ride; her orgasm was lurking directly below the surface.
She went back to a time when she would have felt guilty about having an affair; that was something that other people did. Other couples. She remembered a time when she fully believed that she was the only one that could satisfy her husband; why wouldn't she, he had distinctly told her so. But then she learned about disillusionment. As his remarks became increasingly sharp and often with the intent of harm, she began to notice the way he looked at her. The way he touched her. She felt childlike in her thinking, but she remembered it feeling as if some sort of magic had been detracted from their relationship. She often caught a look of, the best way she could describe it, disdain. Not overtly, but subtly; almost as an afterthought. Like the mere sight of her caused him to retreat; draw away. Was it pitty? disgust? hate? She didn't think she could bear hate...hopefully it wasn't hate. But it was there; a look that she had never seen before, and that was only the beginning.
In the days and weeks that followed, he became more and more distant. Worked longer hours; stayed out with the boys to later and later times, and generally didn't seem to have time for his duties at home. When he was at home, she noticed small changes in his dialect and lexicon. Where did he pick up that expression? she wondered. When did he start contracting those words? she mused. When did he start to perceive it that way? she contemplated. But not to fret, life was about growth and change; afterall, wasn't change the one true constant? It had to be, and so it was, she watched him grow.
As she added more hot water to the bath, she could hear the television playing down the hallway. She knew her girls were watching their evening shows; winding down from the day, and anticipating her exit from the steamy bathroom. She knew she had a decent amount of time relax, as she knew they were not ready to go to bed. The classic out of sight, out of mind approach. She adjusted her bath pillow and resumed her activities; softly touching the places where he had touched. As she thought of his tongue sliding around her navel, she drifted off to the day that she surprised her husband at work with an impromptu lunch date. In its conception, the idea had seemed on the level; a surprise visit, who could object? But on reflection, she thought about some of the clueless looks on his coworkers' faces. Like something was out of place, but no one could quite put it into words; an anomaly. Was she the anomaly? The thing in the situation that was out of place? Only on retrospection did she make this observation.
She remembered how he had left her in the waiting room of the shop while he went to talk to his boss. She remembered picking up a magazine from the table and perusing its contents. Then another. On her third magazine, she noticed the mailing address that was affixed to the label on the front of the tabloid. She checked the entire table and came to the conclusion that all the magazines were addressed to the same person. A woman. While there was nothing spectacular about that fact, she nevertheless took note. Maybe it was the owner's wife. Possibly someone else's wife. The possibilities were seemingly endless. Yet; she took note, and proceeded to take a picture of one of the covers. Information that could come in handy one day. She never considered herself the jealous type...or the type that would go snooping for trouble, but here she was. Chasing a gut feeling that she hoped was nothing more than that. She gently tickled her clit in order to keep herself present; her orgasm was still dancing beneath the surface.
She drifted to the thought of how she used to catch her husband lost in thought; apparently frolicking in a distant realm. Wholly lost in his reverie. When asked, it was always, "nothing, just thinking." Every goddamn time. She was smart enough to know that none of these things, in the moment, were of any issue; not a red flag. She wasn't that insecure that she always felt the victim, but with the knowledge that she would come into, she could now see the events for what they were. Hindsight and twenty-twenty and all that. She heard their family dog bark down the hall...to be continued

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