Alanah returned to a dark home, and the knee length leather boots were unzipped and tossed casually away to the other side of the hallway the moment the door clattered shut behind her. She yawned, and tiredly unravelled her ponytail to let her silky orange hair bounce down and shimmy behind her slender figure. Her purse was placed with the same carelessness as her footwear; it was one of those nights. If she had the energy, she would have loved nothing more than to pour a bottle of red into one of those comically large wine glasses she received on her wedding day.
She remembered from that moment that she was indeed a married woman. A soft groan exited her glossy lips and she made for her discarded purse. Through lipstick and other makeup apparel, and keys and cash, she took her gold band out and begrudgingly slipped it onto her matrimonial finger. Its weight made itself apparent to her the moment it settled on her hand. Her whole body lost her bubbly bounce when it weighed her down. It was why she always took it off when she was away from her "Loving Husband". Besides, it wasn't like directors and perverted photographers liked to see that she was in fact spoken for, despite the mixed messages she sent to all of them. 'Our customers would hate it, Alanah, better make sure everyone knows they have a chance with you.' Her agent would say, to the point where she would teasingly recite it to him before he could get it out.
She yawned again, wiping the sleepy water from the corner of her eye as she strutted up the stairs. She felt her navy dress ride up her silky legs as she took each step. It was at thighs length; the days of her mini-dresses and no undies had been long gone; what was the point if your man didn't appreciate the way the fabric would stretch over her ass? Now she felt the hem press against her thick thighs, but her ass probably still looked good. She reached behind and gave it a small squeeze, imagining a real man behind her drooling from the corners of his lips, jeans getting stiffer down one leg. Almost on instinct she slithered her tongue around her plump lips, and almost on instinct she was ready to take her Step-Brother's hands and make him grope her huge tits with his strong hands. Her body quivered at the thought.
'Fuck I need a break.' She mewed, now with a hurried walk she unclasped her jewellery. Gold bangles on her thin wrists were first, then the silver necklace with the heart shaped locket resting against her impressive cleavage. Her hoop earrings joined the rest of her gold and silver in the palms of her hands. On the other end of the upstairs corridor there were a number of rooms, still dark except a dim light coming from the wide open door at the far end of the stretch. Alanah ignored that for the moment, and turned to one of the shut doors a few paces from the top of the staircase.
Her wardrobe room smelt like her. Sweet, alluring perfume scents stuck to the countless pieces of clothes, wafting around the enclosed space like a typhoon of sex appeal. It didn't help her lust mood. Not at all. It just fuelled her erotic imagination even more. Those smells were what she would wear when she wanted to get laid; or to get a man who was already under her spell all excited and erratic that he would lose all sort of moral control of himself. Fuck my face Mr. Fuck Boy, mama wants to forget that her daddy ran away and gave her all sorts of issues. She saw the sight vividly. Cock draped over her face, her smile wide and dimples digging deep into her cheeks. Her element, hands running up that body that trembled with intimidation to her. She wanted to do what she wanted, and what she wanted was to feel like Mr. Fuck Boy's personal whore.
Dumping her jewellery into one of the many boxes made of marble and gold Alanah hooked her thumbs under the thin straps of her dress and peeled it down her perfect hourglass figure. Her tits bounced free, nipples sharp enough to cut through a dry steak. The men who's laps she would sit on would have loved to see them smother their faces as she stripped. A smirk formed, remembering how some stupid faces would react to seeing the things they dreamed about seeing the moment she met them. She rolled the dress down her toned tummy, it was starting to feel good against her skin, so much so that a dampness became apparent on her panties.
She dressed herself half-heartedly, leaving her black underwear to conceal her throbbing crotch and pulling a tight tank top over her chest. It did little to cover anything. Her nipples were pressing against the cotton, and the way it stretched over her left it almost transparent. Her toned body groaned; a lack of a dinner would do that. For a moment she thought of going back down to the kitchen; the thought of getting into a bed with someone who snatched all the sheets away began to convince her that something downstairs was calling to be eaten, and that wine was still chilled in the fridge. Her pussy throbbed in protest, she was going to bed right this second, and before that she was going to finger herself till that orgasm which had been building all day made her body writhe and her voice flutter with pleasure.
She left her wardrobe room, and made for the bedroom. It was grand, extravagant, almost spooky from all the empty space. It looked like a ritual chamber, where all sorts of sexual acts in the name of a god of lust would occur. A makeup desk for looking good for a man, or woman, if needs presented themselves, sat in front of a wide window, in which its curtains were drawn in to cover the moonlight from looking in at whatever she was going to do. Alanah sucked on her bottom lip, holding in a desperate moan of pleasure that the mere act of her thighs rubbing together would bring on. The thin red hairs on the back of her neck prickled, pretty gemstone-like eyes glowering with lusty frustration. The asshole had sprawled himself out across the king size, satin sheets wrapped around him like a cocoon, bald head peeking out. He did not snore, but he breathed like a boombox playing bass music; and it was toned to a nasal growl. Alanah rubbed her temples, strutting to the bed to roll him across to his side. He barely resonated to her touch, and moved easily despite how muscular and stocky of a man he was.
Crashing on the bed Alanah immediately spread her legs wide, one handing off the bed and the other jiggling with anticipation. One hand dipped into her panties, and a soft moan crawled forth from her pouty lips now her fingertips became sodden with her juices. Her toes curled into her feet, and a small release of pleasure caused her wide hips to move for themselves, rolling against her hand. Quickly she felt herself on the edge, her clit had been given just a few seconds of attention before her knees hooked up and pressed together. She had stopped, pulling her hand out and licking her nectar clean with drawn out licks and a small giggle. As she would have done if her Step-Brother sat naked on the opposite end of the bed, pumping his mass at her display. It took her a moment to realise that he wasn't there, and angrily she pouted her lips and allowed the impending orgasm to slither back into the cave.
