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The television woke up fast. The screen, filled with thumbnails. Women. Mouths. Tits. Cunts split open. Lauren’s face went hot. She felt even more aroused standing there in the middle of her own living room like some sneaking teenager, except she was a married woman in a pink sundress her husband chose for her and the house smelled like lemon soap.

She sat down on the couch. She spread her legs.

The short pink sundress rode up immediately. With no panties, her pussy was right there, bare against the cushion, already wet enough that she felt it when she shifted. Just the way Todd preferred it. If he walked in right now he would have seen his wife’s cunt on display and assumed it was for him. It was not. Not this time.

She pressed play on the first video.

Two very attractive women filled the screen. One blonde, one dark-haired. They were already kissing, slow and hungry, hands in each other’s hair. Then they were rubbing their cunts together, grinding, slick sounds coming through the speakers too loud in the quiet house. Lauren watched, almost enchanted. She had told herself she would only put it on for a minute. Just to take the edge off. Just because her body would not shut up.

Her hand went between her legs.

She rubbed her own pussy while she watched. Two fingers, then three, splitting her lips, finding her clit the way she never quite did when Todd was the one touching her. On screen the women moaned into each other’s mouths. One of them had her thigh hooked over the other’s hip. Their tits pressed together. They looked into each other. That was what got her. Not just the sex. How into each other they seemed to be. No performance for a man off-camera. No checking to see if he was pleased. Just two women using each other like they had all afternoon and nothing to apologize for.

For the first time in months, Lauren felt true pleasure.

It came up from her cunt so fast it scared her. Her toes curled against the rug. Her other hand fisted in the couch cushion. The kind of pleasure that made her mind almost black out because of how overwhelmed she felt. She was panting. The sundress was bunched around her waist. Her massive tits rose and fell hard under the thin pink fabric, nipples stiff enough to show. She rubbed faster. The women on the screen scissored and the wet sound of it mixed with the wet sound of Lauren’s own fingers. She bit her lip so she would not moan too loud, as if the empty house cared.

It was then that it happened.

An image flashed in her mind.

A curvy woman with red hair, much like her own. Only instead of being long and luscious like Lauren’s, the woman had a buzz cut. Short. Almost shaved on the sides. The redhead was in the arms of a black-haired petite woman who was squeezing her large tit and smiling at her while they scissored. Bare mattress or maybe a cheap couch. The petite woman’s thigh was shiny. The redhead’s mouth was open. She looked wrecked in a way that defied words and yet she looked happy, satisfied.

Lauren’s stomach dropped.

She recognized the black-haired woman.

Amelie.

Amelie had been her best friend in college. Amelie had been her maid of honor. Amelie had stood next to her in a dress Todd had approved of and held the bouquet and smiled at the camera like everything was perfect at their wedding.

The thought of the wedding dragged another memory up with it, harder and sharper.

Her and Amelie in the broom closet.

Both of them done up for the wedding. Lauren in white, the skirt a crushing amount of fabric. Amelie in that deep green dress that made her look smaller and meaner and more beautiful than she had any right to look standing next to a bride. Something was strange. Lauren could sense both of their passion and their anguish in the dark, cramped smell of bleach and old coats. They were desperately kissing each other. Not a peck. Not a joke. Mouths open, Amelie’s hand under the wedding dress where no one’s hand was supposed to be an hour before the ceremony. Whispering about how much they loved each other. Amelie’s voice cracked on it. Lauren had said it back. She could still feel the shape of the words in her mouth if she let herself.

The memory was interrupted suddenly.

A door opened abruptly. Light filtered in, harsh, cutting the closet down the middle. Both women looked in that direction in panic. Makeup smeared. Mouths wet. Lauren’s veil was crooked.

Then it was gone. The memory vanished from her mind like it never existed.

Lauren opened her eyes.