When Conor gave Ellen his credit card to go shopping, he expected her to buy more than just clothes.
“Buy something for us,” he instructed, letting his fingers trace the golden tendrils at the nape of her neck.
She loved it when he approached her from behind, anointing her flesh when she least expected touch. She couldn’t fold clothes or stand at the kitchen sink without receiving a tender reminder of possession. Every night, she was his to fondle and mold as a malleable plaything and in return she woke up each morning with the man of her dreams. Ellen had decided long ago she could never be with another man after Conor; in fact, he was the only man she had ever really wanted. After ten years of marriage, his slightest touch could melt her faster than butter on a griddle.
“I can’t keep my hands off you,” he’d often say as he cupped his wife’s bottom for the umpteenth time or reached under her blouse to caress her breasts.
El and her man experienced ups and downs the way all couples do, but they always managed to resolve their differences through touch. Ellen was a successful IT professional which meant most days she touched nothing more exciting than a keyboard. When she walked through the foyer of the spacious home she shared with her husband, every part of her body ached with a carnal urge to please the handsome man who had changed her life forever. All Conor had to do was reach for her wrist while his eyes pinned her with lust and she’d be wet, oh so wet and willing to do his bidding.
When he sent her shopping for accouterments that meant she was in for a special treat. He would tie her up and take her down that well-tread path of submission.
With C’s credit card burning a hole in her handbag, she pulled into the parking lot of her favorite shopping mall.
Before picking out a new restraint, El made a spontaneous decision to get her hair cut. Nothing dramatic, just a trim. She kept her tresses long because C wanted them that way. Not that he was the kind of guy who would ever criticize his partner’s physical appearance. Conor had proposed to El after they had spent an entire weekend talking on the phone, racking up long-distance charges.
“You know, we should just get married,” he reasoned. “We could be doing all this talking in person.”
No, El had kept her hair long because it was in her nature to please this perfect paragon of maleness. Besides, in bed when she got down on all fours so he could take her from behind, she loved the way her scalp tingled when he grabbed her hair by the fistful, reining her in for a kiss or two between the calibrated thrusts of his cock.
The hair salon accepted Walk-Ins. Within thirty minutes, she walked out with her newly cropped mane pulled back in a ponytail. She wasn’t vain but she did appreciate how sex with Conor kept her feeling ageless and lithe.
She took the escalator to the mezzanine where she found a shop with a prodigious display of scarves in the front window.
Standing just inside the door, El’s mouth watered at the image of her forearms crisscrossed and tethered to the headboard as Conor mounted her over and over again.
“Are you looking for a particular color? Something to go with a cocktail dress?” A trim, cheerful sales clerk was all too eager to help a well-heeled customer.
“Actually, I just need something soft and silky. Material that won’t chafe my wrists too much when hubby ties me up tonight.”
The clerk blinked in mild confusion before snapping to attention for a sale.
“Soft and silky! Well, follow me. I’m sure we have just the item you’re looking for.”
The bustling saleswoman led El to a round table with an impressive display of scarves arranged jauntily as if their owners had casually dropped them there.
El held an expansive length of eis wool to her chest but Candace, the knowledgeable purveyor of accessories said, “Oh, no, dear. Try the charmeuse.”
Rubbing the satin-finished silk against her skin, Ellen smiled. Yes, this was the one scarf that would do. She thanked Candace for her help – clearly the lady had a passion for customer service – and browsed through a number of stores.
As she rode the Down elevator, she twirled to catch a glimpse of an elegantly dressed, black-haired man who might have been Conor, but of course, was not. This was always happening. Ever since she met and fell in love with her husband, she couldn’t go more than a few hours without seeing someone who vaguely looked like him. It was as if her mind’s eye held an image of the perfect man and was now trained to be ever alert for the real thing.
El shook her head and started her car. She would go home and wait for the real thing to arrive.
Trouble was, Ellen was so horny, she didn’t know if she could wait for Conor before getting off. Maybe she’d masturbate just once, quickly. Conor came home from work early once and caught his wife masturbating. He told her it made him feel left out when she pleasured herself – couldn’t she just wait another hour for him to get home?
Since then, she tried desperately to control her onanistic impulses, to no avail. Quite frankly, she was one randy dame. The second time her husband caught her in the throes of self-satisfaction, she suggested a spanking might help. That’s when they started experimenting with role playing and submission scenarios. The sparks of their lovemaking flew higher and higher; eventually El forgot all about her little masturbatory fetish.
Come back one week from tonight to read Part Two of this sexy story.
Read Olivia’s other sexy stories published on Every Night Erotica, here.
Olivia London is the author of the story collections San Francisco Lovin’ and San Francisco Bliss: California Erotica, both published by Renaissance E Books and available from Amazon.com. Titles available frome Xcite Books include Lesbian Love 3, Healthy Addictions, Woman Friendly and the erotic paranormal story Soul Bumping. The author may be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.