Tina's Routine

Tina felt her life moving into a routine. She didn't understand if she liked it, or hated it. It was simply, routine. There was a numbness that came with routine, a bland series of days strung together and adding up to her life.

She didn't hate it, because there is a comfort in routine. Her life had been anything but comfort, and to have it now, that safety and stability was good for her. She could live like this, she could survive.

But then, she still had that urge. It was an urge she thought every woman felt, the need for anything but safety and comfort.

In truth, she didn't know what she wanted. She had money, not a lot, but enough to live her own way. Her husband worked for a marketing firm, and he did his 9 to 5, bringing home an adequate paycheck. He was a good man, a decent man, and he loved her. He didn't cheat on her.

At least, she didn't think he did.

How could he? He didn't even like sex.

Sex had become, like everything else, routine. On Wednesday she did the laundry, and she knew she would have sex because it was laundry day. The same day the sheets got tossed, she got tossed as well. Whether she was in the mood or not, Wednesday had become their routine.

She thought of that, as she placed the hamper down next to their washer. It was a brand new washer, bright blue. They had got it last March. It barely hummed when it worked. It was very nice. She smiled, throwing in old jeans, worn shirts, panties and towels into it. She measured out the amount of soap, and started up the machine.

Routine.

Some days she just wanted to tear her clothes off, and run outside naked. Today was one of those days. She just thought of what she had to do, start dinner, welcome her husband, change the laundry, make the bed, watch their show for the night, read her book, make love, go to sleep. This entire list of things to do today, and sex was pushed in there like it was nothing else.

What if she did go around the house naked? The shades were drawn, no one would see her. No one would know. How naughty would that be? And if someone came to the door, if they caught a glimpse of her as she tried to put on her robe? A young man with visions of lust in his eye, asking for her signature on some delivery he had for her? An invite in for coffee?

She felt her body react, heat coming from her deepest core, and her simple cotton panties dampen at such thoughts. She would never do it, but what an active imagination. The delivery man; it was enough to drive a bored housewife wild with lust.

Instead of getting naked and hoping for a package, she prepared dinner. At five thirty, almost as if on a timer, her husband Tom arrived home. She kissed him on the cheek, as he took off his shoes and put down his briefcase.

Their conversation was light, fluffy, boring. The office was the same as usual, his assistant got the coffee wrong again, she was one step closer to being fired. Tina nodded her head, as she changed the laundry. Routine as well.

They ate dinner in a modified silence. The television blared from the other room, jokes told to a live studio audience. Tom remarked how good dinner was. Tina nodded, telling him she'd used a new recipe. Of course she hadn't, but it didn't matter. Tom only nodded and ate some more.

She hated him for it.

She didn't hate her husband, but she simply hated his reaction to everything. He seemed happy about routine. He seemed content. He liked his food, his job, his sex every Wednesday with the wife. Normal sex, they didn't even switch positions.

They didn't even have foreplay.

Tina thought about that, when they first fell in love. Weekends together. She remembered the first time he went down on her. Tom had kissed his way passed her breasts, down her stomach. She guided him with her hands, rustling in his hair. Moans escaped her lips whenever he touched something.

His tongue had come out, and just found every spot of pleasure on her body. He would suck her clit into his mouth, make her thrash against his face. He dove deep into her pussy. He held his breath, pushed down deep, his nose purposely bumping into her clit and driving her wild, his tongue pushing in deeper, pressing against her walls, back and forth. She would cry out, scream his name, hoping, wishing, praying the neighbors would hear.

Then he came up for air, gasping against her juices thick on his lips. He would lick them off, slowly, deliberately as she looked down at him. She thought that last part turned her on most of all, his look of absolute pleasure as he licked his lips from her juices.

Tina's panties grew wet for the second time that day. She felt herself blushing, those thoughts running through her. When was the last time she let her imagination run wild like that?

"What is it?" Tom asked, licking the gravy from his lips. She shook her head, nothing was wrong. She couldn't remember the last time he licked his lips with her juice on it. Years?

Perhaps.

He did like the gravy.

She cleaned the dishes as he went to go look for something decent on television. Tina found herself lost in the suds and soap of the night. She didn't want to watch anything on television. She just wanted to break her routine. Something. Anything.

What made her feel this way? Tina felt unsure. She didn't understand. She hadn't felt this way yesterday, certainly her imagination had not run along these naughty lines before. What had happened today that made it so special?

Perhaps it was that dull ache of routine. She felt so numb, she just could not handle it anymore. She desired something more, something different.

Instead of watching television, she went into the bedroom to read. It was not a romance novel, although Tina wished it was. It was one of those thrillers, a serial killer was loose somewhere in America, and only this down on his luck detective could stop him.

She read the passage about the brutal slaying. The girl had been tied up and gagged, raped before she was murdered. Tina began to wonder about that rape. The man came into her house, unsuspecting. He tied her up. What would it be like to be tied up? The thought of restraints on her wrists.

Her thighs shifted slightly at such a thought, and once more she felt those cotton panties catching moisture of her sex. If her hands were tied up? She closed her eyes, setting the book aside, and slowly put her arms up over her head.

He came on rough, his hands thick and calloused. They tore at her clothing. She screamed, eyes tearing up, her flesh being pawed and mauled by this man, this stranger. She cried out as he found her nipples, already hard. He had a low gravelly voice, accusing her, telling her she liked this, she wanted this.

She shook her head no, but her panties grew wet, her thighs parted just so for him, as he slipped his fingers down between her legs. She wanted to move her arms, struggled against the thick rope binding her. It was useless, he could use her body, be as brutal as she wanted.

"Fuck me," She whispered, the words hung deep between soft lips, "Oh God, fuck me."

"What did you say?"

Tina gasped, coming out of her fantasy. Tom stepped into the room, removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. She felt her cheeks bruise a deep crimson. She closed her legs, looking down at the deep wet spot on her panties. She would have to wash these tomorrow.

She almost felt happy for that. A break in her routine.

Tom slipped into bed beside her. Tina felt that brush of his arm and fell down comfortably next to him. He turned off the lights. They did not make love with the lights on. She wished they could, once, just so she could see his body and her own. She always wanted to look down at her body, watch it as he fucked her. How would it look? So sexy she imagined, being thrown back and forth as his cock slipped inside of her. Her imagination could not describe that in the detail she wanted.

He kissed her. His kisses were light. She responded, her body melting against his touch. Somehow she ached for this. Something about today had felt so odd, so weird, and sex seemed the only cure. She would be fucked, she would orgasm and then everything would be just fine.

He took off his boxers. Her hands sought out his cock beneath the blankets. Already it was hard. Her husband had a beautiful cock, thick and long. She stroked it to its peak, loving the feeling of him beside her, grunting, moaning his delight at her simple touch.

It did not excite her though. She enjoyed it, yes, but she did not feel the tingle between her legs as she had earlier. She felt no wet panties, no juices flowing between her, that heated core rising within her, needing and wanting release.

He got up on his knees. Tina quickly took off her panties, throwing them in the corner as he lined himself up with her. He did not have the blanket around him, and she caught some sight of his body. He already had a layer of sweat on him, and as her legs wrapped around him, urging him into her, he also had a look of lust she delighted in.

It did not excite her though.

His cock found her entrance. She felt the head, its rough ungentle poking as it pushed inside. She could feel residual juice from before, making her sex damp, clingy, but it hurt as he tried to push inside. She could feel it, their skin pressing into each other, clinging, refusing to let him push deeper.

"What... what's wrong?" He asked, only the head inside. Tina felt it, that heat between her legs, his own cock, thick, pulsing, invading her. She loved his cock inside of her.

Again though, she did not find herself excited. She had many good feelings about him, about sex, but not lustful, passionate feelings. She could not understand. It was as if during the day all of her lust and passion had been run out by her imagination.

"I'm... I'm not wet. I'm not ready yet."

He looked down at her. That feeling of inadequacy ran through her. She did not understand. She wanted to be wet for him, she wanted him to fuck her, but her pussy would not get wet.

"Well.... Touch yourself."

She blinked at those words.

"What?"

"Touch yourself. Make yourself wet."

Tina felt his cock sliding out of her body. She bit her lower lip, unsure. Why did she feel so awkward now? Her legs were spread wide, eager to accommodate him, but he had left her. She wanted to be wet, but she was not. She wanted to ask him to touch her, to go down on her like before.

But his words, how distant they were, how cold. It was as if he were asking for more gravy on his mashed potatoes, and not sex from his wife. She felt lost in the routine, hopeless.

Her fingers ran down the length of her body, pressing up against her clit. She closed her eyes once more, flicking the hardened nub. She could feel the stimulation at once. Her body responded, that little clit loved to be played with, toyed. Just touch it enough, and her body would respond to just about anyone.

Touch yourself. Those words, cold and distant, entered her mind. This stranger over her, powering over her, holding her down. She felt a cry escape her lips. Why was it so exciting now? Before it wasn't exciting, it was embarrassing. She felt embarrassed, inadequate. She loved those feelings. He humiliated her for not being ready.

She felt her juices flowing now. Flowing just for his cock. He didn't care about fucking her, it just became routine for him. He would just assume not fuck her. Why did she like that?

Tom lined up to her once again, and she cried aloud as he entered her. Her eyes were closed once more, this man over her, towering. She wanted him to grab her hands, pull them up over her head, refuse her to touch herself.

"Oh God... yes," Tina said, pushing her hands up over her head, just like before.

"You dirty little whore, you like touching yourself? You love being a slut for me, don't you?" He pounded her, deep. His cock ran the full length inside of her. She cried out at such harsh words. He held her hands above her head, forcing them up, his grip tight around her wrists. Oh God, yes, if he didn't hold her back she would just touch herself, make herself cum, cry out on his cock.

Who was he? Some mysterious man, some mysterious cock throbbing inside of her, pressing deep.

She bucked against those hard thrusts. When was the last time she did anything more than lie there? Oh no, she wanted to prove to him what a slut she was. She wanted to push his cock into her, shower him with her cum. Her pussy leaked now, flowing free, wetting the sheets beneath them. That hadn't happened in years.

"I'm going to cum."

Tom said it, his mind lost in his own thoughts, and his own lusts at the moment, fucking his wife and cumming inside of her. Tina translated it in her fantasy though. It was this mysterious man, and he was saying it to her on purpose, vindictive.

He told her this because he was only using her to get off. She screamed out her own pleasure at that. Yes, she wanted to be used just like that. She wished for this stranger to get off on her body, leave her throbbing and shivering and crying for more. This man who didn't care about her needs, whether or not she came. He only cared for his own needs.

She would take care of him, she would pull his precious seed deep within her body.

Such precious seed.

She did cum. Her body thrashed against the bed, her legs wrapped tightly around her husband. Her hands were up above her head, grabbing onto the headboard, pushing her little pussy down deep onto his cock. Her inner walls grabbed him, gripped him, clung to him as he came inside of her. She called out what little frustration she had, sighing, moaning, falling in a heap against the wet sheets now.

Her toes hard curled up, her body some tight rubbed band that had just snapped. She delighted in the shivers that ran through her, as she fell back down to earth. She only concentrated on her breath, coming in and out of her. Her fingers reached and felt along the sheets, curling back and forth. Her back arched, relaxing as she collapsed.

She was covered in sweat, panting, breathing. Oh God, she had never felt anything like that before. She had never cum so hard, her body on pins and needles. She didn't think she could talk, words would get fuzzled and confused inside her own brain.

"That was different," Tom said, lying down next to her. She nodded her head, smiling, laughing at what happened. Had it ever been so good, so intense? No, not in a long time. Maybe even never.

"Did you..." She spoke carefully, "Like it?"

Tom kissed her forehead, "It was fine. Different, but fine."

Tina didn't know if fine was the right word. He said it the same way he spoke of her dinner, a different taste but the same meal. She nodded her head, smiling blankly. Tom already rolled over, ready for sleep.

Tina was not done yet. She closed her eyes once more.

He said nothing to her, only looked at her ravaged body, the cum leaking from her red and swollen pussy lips. He did not care about her, did not love her. He had used her for her body, and she thanked him because of it.

The seed, pouring from her. She did not know if it carried disease, if it would bear her a child, and she did not care. She only cared for him, how he forced her, how he held her, how he would be back whenever he wanted to fuck her, and she would always take him to bed, always please him with her body.

Tina fell asleep in that comfort, lying in her own juices, knowing for the first time in a long time, she had broken her routine.