Ignore the text.

You dismiss the message and lock your phone, finishing off the rest of your dinner and then washing up the dishes. You head upstairs to the bedroom, where you find Rebecca sitting up in your bed, reading a book. The image of Gemma's dripping pussy still fresh in your mind, you sit on the edge of the bed next to your wife. Rebecca had always been incredibly attractive - and still was. The two of you never had children, so her body still retained much of the seductive physique she possessed in her younger days. You place your hand on her leg and begin to stroke up and down, your fingers straying to the insides of her thigh.

"Sorry honey, I just had a shower," she complains, not even bothering to look up from her book. "Besides, it's getting late. I'm just not in the mood. Why don’t we just wait until date night in a few days?"

“Alright,” you surrender bitterly. "I'm gonna head down to the office to do some work."

"Okay sweetie," says Rebecca, "Don't stay up too late."

You leave her in the bedroom and head down the stairs to your home office, taking a seat in the high-backed leather chair behind the desk. You sigh in resignation. In your younger days, Rebecca had a decent sexual appetite, albeit with somewhat vanilla tastes. Missionary was always the position of choice, although that seemed to be the only way she could climax, and as a considerate partner, you happily obliged. But when you both hit your 40s, her sex drive all but dried up, with paint-by-the-numbers intercourse once a week following your pre-organized 'date night'.

You pull out your phone from your pocket, reach down to your rock-hard cock, and begin masturbating furiously, flicking through photo after photo of Gemma's nudes.

You grunt hard as you cum all over the carpet underneath your desk. You close your eyes and lean back into your chair for a few minutes, relaxing in the afterglow of your climax, before getting up to fetch some paper towels from the kitchen to clean up.