Scratching An Itch

A man walking on the street rolling a suitcase with him to go with my story about Peggy deciding to stop taking men home to get over her husband leaving.

“I’m done with it. Done.”

Peggy looked her mirrored image in the eyes and saw the doubt enveloping her heart reflected in it.

“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 as 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 the past year. Until the beginning of that year — New Year’s Day to be precise — she was in a relationship she had thought would last forever.

On the first day of that 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 had never spoken again. Lawyers handled the divorce, which was over in less time than it took to plan their wedding.

Peggy had 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 was what she needed to work through her divorce, to mourn their failed marriage and get over the hurt he had caused her. If she didn’t do that now, she would never be ready for a new relationship; could let no one in again. No matter how many men had been inside her in the past 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, on the third day of the new year, 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’d been at 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, intending to read 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 had fucked her in the year before. 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 between her legs.

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 opened 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 had left, suitcase in his hand.

Peggy moved the two fingers to either side of her erect clitoris and 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 powerful orgasm washed through her. She fell back on the couch, eyes closed, breathing hard. Her lips curled into a smile.

“You might not be completely celibate, Pegs, but you don’t need the men.”

And just for good measure, she added: “For now.”

Note: This story was first posted in January 2018, and now edited.

© Rebel’s Notes
Image from Pixabay

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