Rebecca heard the creak of the front door opening as Steven entered the house. "Hey Honey," he chimed from the front hallway. "How was your day?" he asked absently as he hung his jacket on the coat rack.
"Fine, what about you?" Rebecca answered from the kitchen.
"Yep, same. All good," Rebecca heard him mumble from the other room. Hopefully he'll come in here before he sits down in front of the computer, she thought to herself. She had ordered some lingerie a few weeks ago, and she had found the package on the front porch when she got home from work today. She thought she'd surprise Steven when he got home. The idea of being nearly nude in her kitchen in broad daylight with the windows open was getting her more excited than she had anticipated. Maybe today Steven would show more than a passing interest in his wife.
Steven had never been very interested in sex, and for a long time that had been just fine with Rebecca. But lately, she was starting to feel his lack of interest a bit more keenly. When they were younger, they had been fairly compatible in the sex drive department. Rebecca wasn't exactly a virgin when they met, but her experience level had been fairly low. A couple boyfriends, a few one night stands, but nothing crazy. And she never really cared for it. She had brought herself to orgasm a few times when she was younger, but she'd never even gotten close with a partner, not even Steven. And that had always been perfectly adequate. Until recently.
At 35, Rebecca was starting to understand what all those romance novels were on about. She found herself getting flushed when she went to the gym, her eyes lingering on the nearby flexing muscles, her senses overwhelmed by the smells of sweat and masculinity. She would never even think of actually cheating on her husband, but she was starting to have all kinds of intrusive sexual thoughts, as if some new flame of desire had awakened deep within her. They do say women reach sexual maturity later than men. More and more nights, she'd wake up wet and aroused, hoping that Steven would notice her squirming beside him and become overwhelmed by the mere thought of his wife aching for him. But it really never happened like that.
To be fair, Steven certainly did want sex sometimes. Usually in the morning when Rebecca was still too sleepy to want much. He honestly seemed more interested in the idea of starting a family than the actual physical component of... starting a family. Rebecca was still a bit ambivalent about the whole kids thing, but she was open to trying, and had gone off birth control a few months ago. She took the sex where she could get it though, and tried to make the most of it when Steven was in the mood. But he really wasn't making it easy for her. His arousal seemed entirely unrelated to anything Rebecca did or said, and he almost never initiated anything outside of the bedroom. And even during sex, Rebecca was finding herself wanting more. She found Steven so sexy, and she wanted to feel him quaking under her, but he just seemed ambivalent. His orgasms were quick and weak, and he barely gave her any warning before they happened, and then everything was over. She wanted to hear him moan, wanted to see his eyes ravenous with desire.
So she was trying out something new today. Dressed only in a lacy black teddy with a matching thong, Rebecca waited for Steven to come into the kitchen and notice her. She could hear him make his way to the downstairs half bathroom. Dammit, she thought. She waited a few minutes until she heard the sound of the toilet flush, and then decided she was going to have to be a little more assertive.
"Do you want to come help me make the salad to go with the lasagna for tonight?" she called from the kitchen. Rebecca wasn't very good at being assertive.
"Sure, honey," Steven responded. "Is it urgent though? I need to send a couple emails before I forget."
Dejected, Rebecca called back, "No, not urgent. It's fine, go send your emails." She continued preparing dinner, feeling more and more silly in her outfit. She closed the shutters above the kitchen sink, knowing that it would be dark soon. Shouldn't let the neighbors see her odd choice of cooking attire. Ugh, I'm such an idiot, she thought to herself.
A few minutes later, Steven came into the kitchen holding his phone. Not glancing up, he said, "So, what do you need for that salad?"
More than a little miffed, Rebecca just stared at him as he continued to look down at his phone. Not hearing a response, Steven finally looked up at her. "What?" he said, confused at her unresponsiveness.
If he hadn't noticed already, Rebecca felt really stupid needing to point it out to him. She gestured down at her body, hoping to draw his attention to the lingerie, and maybe the hot 35-year old wearing it.
"Oh, is that new?" Steven asked. "Looks nice."
Defeated, Rebecca sighed. "Thank you. And yes, it's new," she responded quietly.
"Sorry, I was distracted by this stuff at work," Steven said, trying to cheer his wife up and not really sure what was wrong. "There was a problem with the latest shipment, and like five different clients have called to complain. I'm putting out fires right and left."
"It's okay," Rebecca said. "Just a caesar salad for tonight, I think. The lettuce and dressing are both in the fridge, and there's a bag of croutons in the cabinet."
Steven nodded and went to get out the salad bowl to put the salad together. Rebecca, hearing the oven beep, grabbed the lasagna and placed it on the stovetop. "I think I'm going to go put on some sweatpants," Rebecca said to Steven as she started to walk out of the kitchen.
"K," Steven said, staring down at his phone as he mindlessly tossed the lettuce with the caesar dressing.
Rebecca walked upstairs to the master bedroom to change out of her lingerie and into a regular loose-fitting white v-neck and fuzzy blue sweatpants. No bra, but she kept on the black lace thong, just in case. She shook her head. What did she think was going to happen? He's just going to go back to his computer after dinner. Maybe, just maybe, if he came to bed early enough, he might cop a feel or two and give her a nice swift missionary-position fuck. It didn't matter one bit if she was wearing a lacy black thong or not, so what was even the point? Whatever, she wasn't going to take them back off now that she had her sweats on.
Rebecca made her way back downstairs, finished setting the table, and enjoyed a nice quiet meal with her husband. They ate their lasagna in relative silence, punctuated every now and then with a comment about the meal or what happened at work today. When they were finished, Steven took the plates to the kitchen to rinse off, stuck them in the dishwasher, and went back through the dining room toward his office. On his way through, he paused, and gave Rebecca a soft kiss on her forehead. "Thanks for dinner, honey. It was delicious," he said.
Rebecca smiled up at him wistfully. "You're welcome, dear."
Steven smiled back and turned to walk down the hallway toward his office. "Might be a late night tonight. Don't wait up," he called over his shoulder. Rebecca's shoulders sagged in disappointment. "Okay," she responded. "Good luck with your work!"
Rebecca got up from the table and tidied the dining room up a bit, still feeling down about her complete failure to entice Steven into anything. She went back up to the master bedroom, grabbed her laptop from her desk, and plopped down onto the king sized bed. She spent a few minutes checking her own email and catching up with the latest posts on her social media, but she wasn't really able to focus on anything in particular.
She set the laptop off to the side and grabbed her current romance novel from the bedside table. If Steven wasn't interested, she could at least lose herself in a raunchy tale of torrid romance. She opened up the paperback to her bookmarked page and began to read. As her eyes passed over the pages, she felt herself getting worked up again, imagining herself in the place of the beautiful damsel being fervently pursued and won over by the charming, lustful rake. Her hands started to explore her body beneath her clothes. With her left hand she found one of her breasts, squeezing and releasing, rolling her fingers back and forth across her erect nipple. That sent a shock through her body, the sensitivity of her nipple translating the sensation to her aching clit. She let her hand glide down over her belly, one finger tracing beneath the waistband of her sweatpants. She could feel the outline of her lacy panties below her pants, and suddenly wanted desperately to be wearing only those.
Rebecca quickly pulled off her sweats and threw them to the side of the room near the laundry hamper. Her book set aside now, she used both hands to caress her entire torso. In unison, they traveled around her tits, grasping and releasing, then gliding up into her hair, down the sides of her neck, and along her side as she quaked beneath them.
But there was something missing. As much pleasure as she could give herself, she didn't want to be the one providing her pleasure. She wanted to be taken, like the women in her romance novels. She wanted to be wanted. Desperately and uncontrollably wanted.
Frustrated with the realization that she was not going to be getting the release she needed tonight, Rebecca opened her laptop again. Fervently, she opened up her search engine and typed "How to entice your husband" into the window. Articles from vapid online magazines. She tried again.
"Make a man overcome with desire" ...
"Husband seduction" ...
"How to make yourself irresistible to men" ...