Scratching An Itch

suitcase

“I’m done with it. Done.”
Peggy looked her mirrored image in the eyes and saw the doubt that enveloped her heart.
“No, Pegs, it’s been enough. You cannot go on like this.”
A frown formed above the two eyebrows in front of her. She avoided looking at the eyes. Irritation flashed through her. She was strong. She needed to do this. It would be her New Year’s resolution.

Peggy had lost count of how many men had fucked her during this year. Until the beginning of the year – New Year’s day to be precise – she was in a relationship that she thought would last forever. On the first day of the new year, the day after they had a lovely party with their friends, he told her he wanted out. He was in love with her best friend. He packed a suitcase and left. They never spoke again after that. Lawyers handled the divorce, which was over in less time than it took to plan their wedding. Peggy tried to hide her grief from the world by drinking and fucking. During the day she was the sales manager that had everything under control. At night she was roaming the bars and picking up random men, who she sent off into the night the moment they had satisfied her.

Peggy turned away from the mirror. It had to stop. She couldn’t go on like this. Quiet time is what she needed to work through her divorce, to get over the hurt he had caused her. If she didn’t do that, she would never be ready for a new relationship; would never be able to let anyone in. No matter how many men had been inside her this year, none of them had touched her emotionally. She wanted to get on with her life and the only way to do it was to make changes.

The next day, the morning of New Year’s day, Peggy had her plan in place. Celibacy was at the top of her list. Celibacy for at least three months. She wanted to reconnect with her friends. Reconnect with family. But most of all, she wanted to reconnect with herself.

Two weeks into the new year, Peggy was proud of herself. Not once had she been out to a bar. Not once had she yearned for a man to fuck her. She had only been out once to visit family and other than that she had been at her work or home. As proud as she was of herself, a restlessness had taken hold of her. It was Sunday afternoon and Peggy busied herself with the laundry to take her mind off the unrest inside. By the time the laundry was done, she made herself a quick dinner and then got into bed with a book.

Another week filled with meetings and hard work kept her mind occupied but by Friday night Peggy couldn’t deny it anymore: she needed an orgasm. Sitting on the couch, she thought of the men who fucked her. She couldn’t remember faces, but in her mind she saw an unnamed cock fucking her. Pushing deep inside her. Stretching her. Demanding her surrender until her body exploded in an orgasm. Peggy gasped as her clitoris stirred under her fingers, only now realizing she had slipped her hand in her pants. When was the last time she had touched herself? She slipped her finger down between her folds, touching her wetness, shivering with lust.

Peggy pushed her pants and knickers down to her ankles, bent her legs and pushed the soles of her feet together as she spread her legs parting her knees. Her cunt lips parted and revealed the dampness of her inner folds. Peggy looked at her pinkness. There was the itch. An itch she could scratch herself.

Ever so softly she ran her finger over her puffy cunt lips. Up and down and over to the other side. Up and down. She moved her finger to her entrance and slipped her finger inside. Inside her dark folds, into her wetness. Slowly she finger-fucked herself, adding a second finger somewhere during her thrusting. Her eyes were closed. Images of faceless men fucking her flashed through her. She even saw the moment her husband left, suitcase in his hand.

Peggy moved the two fingers to either side of her erect clitoris sighed with pleasure. Up and down she moved those fingers, barely touching her clitoris, but it was enough to harden her nipples. With her free hand she pushed her top and bra up so she could see her breasts.

One finger now circled her clitoris, sending delicious shivers down her spine. Her nipples hardened even more. She loved the sight of it, seeing her body reacting to her own touch. Even if she had wanted to stop now, it would not have been possible. Her finger had found a rhythm. Her body screamed for more. Begged for release. Peggy arched her back and tightened every muscle in her body as a strong orgasm washed through her. She fell back on the couch, eyes closed, breathing hard. Her lips curled into a smile.

“You might not be able to be completely celibate, Pegs, but you don’t need the men.”
And just for good measure she added: “For now.”

Source image

© Rebel’s Notes

Click the button to see who else is playing or to link your own post.

Wicked Wednesday

6 thoughts on “Scratching An Itch

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.