© 2021, All rights reserved -- mimaster
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Ann groaned as she looked at the disheveled mop on top of her head. It hardly looked like it was a style anymore. It was longer than she could remember. And the soft gentle curls she'd had for so long were becoming hard to distinguish.
"God, I've got to do something about this mess," she said disgustedly at her reflection.
It had been forever since she'd gone in for a perm, finding the time required to have one done an elusive premise. It was something she never worried about when she was younger. She took such pride in her appearance it would have been criminal to miss her bi-monthly appointment for a perm, or the touch up and trim she'd have done in the month in between. She still cared about how she looked, but she also had an active toddler, and of late there always seemed to be something more pressing to do.
It didn't help that the structure of her hair had seemingly changed. Ever since she'd become pregnant with Owen, it was more difficult for her hair to actually hold a perm. They didn't last nearly as long. Becoming used to only having to get one every couple of months, it was difficult to adjust to having to get them more often. Not to mention the added expense. Instead, she learned to live with the curls becoming looser over a shorter timeframe, which meant having to do a lot more styling in the morning just to give herself something close to the look she wanted.
She leaned closer, running her fingers through the strands, trying to untangle some of the mess. Picking up her brush, she started working it through her tresses, getting out some of the knots. She winced, not being careful enough when she pulled, the brush becoming entangled for a brief moment. Massaging her scalp where the follicles had been irritated, she caught a glimpse of the smirk on her face.
The tug of the brush had reminded her of the events night before; the cause of the tangles in the first place. Neil had been pulling and twisting his hands in her long, silky mane, using her hair as reins to control her as he fucked her from behind. She found her pussy had begun to tingle, a sudden wetness between her legs from the wicked flashes going through her mind. Who would have ever thought she would get so turned on by having her hair pulled during sex?
She certainly didn't when she was younger. But she was a much different woman than the one that left California almost six years before. Still, she found it interesting that she'd run away to the west coast after high school to escape the oppressive confines of the small town she grew up in, wanting to be free; to be able to spread her wings and sow her wild oats. She spent ten years thinking she'd changed from the naïve little girl from Indiana, growing into a sexually mature young woman, full of self-confidence, thinking she had it all figured out.
It wasn't until fate brought her to a man from her hometown that she came to realize just how little she knew when it came to sexual pleasure. In just days, Neil taught her to no longer accept the notion of settling for limits, practically challenging her with the concept that she was capable of having multiple orgasms. She scoffed at the thought, only to be proven wrong the very first time he was allowed the chance to show her what a real man could do with her body.
She'd been learning lessons from him ever since.
It was hard to remember the first time he actually took hold of her long locks and used them as a way to control her. She was certain it was during one of their angrier lovemaking sessions. It was fucking, actually. And it was likely her ass. She was convinced he was taking her from behind, recalling how her head snapped back, her chest jutting out as he rammed deeper inside. But the exact moment was lost, amongst all the other times he'd used her in the most wonderful ways.
It was also hard to believe she'd been a California girl for so long, and never experienced that feeling while living there. But it was just like having more than one orgasm... or one at all, to be honest. While she didn't know it, her sexual experiences with men from the Golden State were limited, despite how sexually active she was.
She never bothered to keep track of just how many men she'd slept with in the decade of time spent in California, but she knew the actual total was well more than there were weeks in a year. There was a time in her life when she relished the idea of bedding someone new; an endless search for the perfect fuck. It was an unashamed pursuit. She recalled actually being proud at the time when she fucked four different men in a little over a week, none of which she saw before or after she slept with them. But that magical fuck she'd dreamed of proved more elusive than she imagined, her white whale always slipping away, leaving her to hump what she deemed as an endless supply of selfish lovers.
She didn't start out that way. It took time for her to become jaded by the attitudes of the men she'd hook up with, considering them a disposable commodity. During her first few years out west,
she
was the one being preyed upon; used and discarded as far as sex was concerned, sometimes cumming... most times not. But she learned, finding the confidence to turn the tables. She had the advantage, after all. She was stunningly attractive, incredibly stylish, unbelievably athletic, extremely intelligent, and most important, she had the pussy.
Going from hunted to huntress, she spent several years making up for the all the nights spent with a broken heart and wasted tears. She would bust her ass working all day, building a team, creating success in her store. And then after work, when she needed relief from the stress, she'd go on the prowl at night. She wasn't proud of the way she treated some of the men, but unlike those that had used her the first few years she lived there, she almost always made sure whomever she slept with had an orgasm. She just made absolutely certain that she had hers first.
She didn't think of herself as a slut, even though the number of one-night stands she'd had was frightening enough that she easily qualified by any definition. Instead, she chose to think of herself as a progressive woman, taking charge of her sexuality. It made her feel empowered.
That held true, until she fell in love with someone she shouldn't have. All of the confidence she'd built up went out the window after she met Ray. She'd been introduced to him at a party, the two connecting in a way she hadn't felt before. It was refreshing that he didn't succumb to her subtle advances, nor did he put the moves on her at first. He took his time, all the while being the aggressor. She fell back into the role of being chased, actually finding that she missed it.
She stopped her promiscuity almost immediately, deciding she should see where their relationship might take them. They began dating, and during their first six months together she couldn't have been happier. He wasn't selfish, always looking out for her needs, especially in bed. Ray seemed to be everything she was looking for, with the notable exception of being monogamous.
She didn't find out about his life-long girlfriend until they'd been dating almost a year. That was because she wasn't an issue at first. Ann thought she was simply a good friend. But like a bad dream, she was the type of woman that kept popping back into his life, never really letting go. And Ray was the type of man that couldn't totally break things off. He tried. Many times. He'd throw that boomerang, and many times it would disappear for ridiculous lengths of time. But that boomerang always...
she
always returned.
He knew she wasn't good for him. He knew she treated him like crap most of the time. But time apart made it easy for him to forget those traits. After all, she always proclaimed that he was the love of her life, the two knowing each other since grade school. He always fell for that logic, thinking of her as some kind of soulmate.
Ann was crushed at first when she realized they were beyond friendship, and their on again off again relationship has swung back into the on position. They'd become serious. But Ann did something unfathomable in response. Instead of calling him out, she decided to fight for his love, treating it like a competition. She spent over six months trying to win him, all the while knowing he was getting what he wanted from both women.
