Holiday Kink by Eve Langlais Page A

never broke up or dated anyone else. We went to the same college together—well he did. I dropped out after two years to pop out the requisite boy and girl who were both grown now and off to college. I guess we could be classed as empty nesters now in our forties. Middle-aged and I’d finally hit my midlife crisis, well at least when it came to sex.
    Funny, but our lack of spice in the bedroom hadn’t bothered me when I was a teen or a young mother. My dissatisfaction had only started a few years ago when the children no longer needed me, and I’d discovered I had too much free time on my hands. Around that time my libido woke up and declared, “I’m horny.” Our standard once a week suddenly wasn’t enough. Actually, even though I orgasmed, the whole act left me dissatisfied and yearning for something more.
    I did what any woman does when she wants more attention but is too chicken to ask for it outright. I flaunted myself in new lingerie, which heightened my arousal even as he barely seemed to notice. When he did, off to bed we went for our predictable ten minutes. Some kissing, some fondling then the hump and bump, followed by a roll over and snore. It was a good thing I didn’t need much stimulation to come, but my orgasms felt forced and unsatisfying. And too often, looking at him afterward as the semen rolled down my leg, I held in a scream. There has to be more to it than this?
    I raised the threshold and went shopping again, wearing big, concealing sunglasses. It wouldn’t do for my gardening club to see me even as the idea of getting caught excited me. Public sex was also one of my newfound fantasies, with my husband of course. That was a really far-fetched dream given he still locked our bedroom door, even though there was no one left at home to walk in on us. I picked up even naughtier erotic wear from the sex shop. Funny how items we consider taboo can stimulate. The first time I wore crotchless panties and skimpy lace tops with holes cut out for the nipples to protrude, I blushed and creamed myself. I will admit, that particular get-up piqued Andrew’s interest. He fell on me passionately at first, but all too quickly he slowed things down and finished with his usual grunt. Argh, why couldn’t he have stayed out of control and rough?
    I think that was when I decided the problem must lie with me. Andrew seemed quite happy with our sex life, so if I wasn’t, there had to be something wrong with me. Like any modern woman I turned to the Internet for help.
    The wonders I’d discovered. I’d never really paid attention to porn before. I considered it smutty and for men only. How wrong I was. I became a secret porn addict, browsing sex sites and using a credit card I prepaid in my name only to purchase memberships. By the light of my laptop screen, I masturbated in my chair. But after a while, the novelty wore off and I realized I was still dissatisfied.
    Until the day I discovered spanking on a fetish site—oh, god the orgasm I’d achieved watching the spankee’s ass turning red. I thought something was wrong with me until an Internet search revealed if I was freak I was in plentiful company.
    With my pussy slick and in a constant state of arousal, I explored the beautiful online world of pain and pleasure. The more I saw, the more I craved it like a crackwhore. I couldn’t believe it. I would have never imagined in a million years that the idea of being spanked and bound would titillate me so. Of course, having no opportunity to try it I couldn’t test my newfound fantasy, and never would I dare mention it to Andrew. God only knew what he’d think knowing his wife was a pervert. Maybe he’d punish me—I should be so lucky. Fearful of telling or not, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I even started writing about it. My latest work was an ode to Christmas and kink. I hid my erotic ramblings in my notebook for my family would surely disown me if they knew. But oh, how I craved to enter that