The Frustration That Doesn’t Fade

Adriana got home a little after six-thirty, her cheeks still flushed and a sparkle in her eyes that Chris hadn’t seen in years. She told him a softened version: the place was beautiful, the girls very nice, the champagne expensive, lots of laughter… nothing more. She left out the photos. She left out the stories. She left out the fact that in her purse her phone was vibrating every two minutes with notifications from the group chat “The Four VIP Sluts .”

Chris smiled, hugged her, and told her he was really happy for her. She hugged him back… but her body was hot. Too hot. All day she had listened to how Lana had taken 20 cm down her throat, how Riley had received four loads in a row, how Abella had fucked a stranger. And her treacherous mind wouldn’t stop imagining it. Hard bodies. Thick cocks. Men who didn’t finish in ten seconds.

That night, for the first time in months, she was the one who took the initiative.

She slipped into bed naked under an oversized T-shirt. She pressed herself against Chris from behind, slid her hand straight into his pajama pants, and began to touch him. Her voice came out husky, almost ****:

“I need you, love… I really need you tonight.”

Chris was surprised. He turned toward her. He tried to respond with kisses, with caresses, but his head was full of doubts: Abella, the brunch, the laughter Adriana had brought home with her. His cock, usually decent, was slow to react. It stayed half-soft in her fingers. Adriana kept rubbing, kissing his neck, pressing her already wet pussy against his thigh.

Finally he got hard. A little. Unevenly. He entered her with difficulty. Adriana closed her eyes and tried to imagine something else: strong hands, a tattooed torso, a deep voice whispering dirty things to her. Chris started moving. Mechanical. Clumsy. Two minutes. Three. And then… a short grunt. He came. Ten seconds exactly. Adriana felt the faint warmth inside her and nothing more. Not even a proper spasm.

She lay still beneath him.

Chris panted against her neck.

“I… I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s just… work stress, I guess.”

Adriana cradled his head against her chest. She stroked his hair tenderly.

“It’s okay, love. Really. Don’t worry.”

But inside she was burning. A fire that wouldn’t go out. Her clitoris throbbed. Her pussy demanded more. Much more. She bit her lip until she almost drew blood to keep from crying out in frustration.

Chris fell asleep almost instantly, satisfied and guilty at the same time.

Adriana stared at the ceiling, her husband’s semen slowly dripping between her thighs, her mind filled with images she shouldn’t be having.

The next morning, Sunday, Chris got up early to go to the office (he had reports to get ahead on). He kissed her forehead before leaving.

“I love you. Rest today, okay?”

Adriana pretended to sleep until she heard the door close.

As soon as the elevator descended, she got up. Her pajamas flew to the floor. She lay back on the bed, the sheets still smelling of failed sex. She spread her legs and began touching herself urgently. Two fingers inside, her thumb on her clit, hard, fast. She closed her eyes and let the brunch images flood her mind: Lana’s thick 20-centimeter cock, Riley’s white spurts, Abella’s ass bouncing on top of the tattooed guy.

She masturbated like a madwoman. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen.

Nothing.

She was soaked, her pussy swollen and red, but the orgasm wouldn’t come. Every time she got close, the image of Chris finishing in ten seconds cut off her momentum. The frustration was so intense it made her chest ache.

With an angry groan, she grabbed the phone from the nightstand.

She opened the group chat “The Four VIP Sluts .”

Her fingers were trembling.

Adriana:

Girls… count me in. I’m in. But just to try one night, okay? No dirty stuff with anyone. I’m a married woman. I just want to… feel alive for a while. That’s all.

She hit send.

She stared at the screen, her heart racing.

The ticks turned blue instantly.

Abella was the first to reply:

Abella :

FUCK YESSSSS! Official welcome, slut! ❤

Relax, babe. No one’s going to touch you if you don’t want them to. But I promise when you see the options we’ve got… you’ll change your mind real quick.

Lana:

Oh, my little lamb… wait till you see the cocks we’re going to show you tonight. I’ll introduce you to the 23 cm one. Just to look, okay?

Riley:

We’re already alerting the regulars. “Guys, fresh meat tonight. Married, killer body, good-girl face.”

They’re going crazy. Get ready, Adri. Tonight you’re going to see what a real cock looks like.

Adriana dropped the phone as if it burned.

She lay there, naked, her fingers still between her legs and her heart pounding in her throat.

She knew perfectly well what she had just done.

She knew the girls weren’t going to respect her “no dirty stuff.”

And the worst part… a very dark and wet part of her no longer wanted them to respect it.

She closed her eyes.

And this time, when she started touching herself again—rougher now—the orgasm came in less than two minutes.

Screaming a name that wasn’t Chris’s.