The Insatiable Nymph
This is one of six stories involving Char and her husband Andy Treadwell. The other stories will be published later. Some of the stories took place previously and some later.
Andy and Char Treadwell had only recently moved into their new house in a quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of town. It was in a new development. And this was a starter house, inexpensive enough for the recently wed Char and her husband Andy to afford.
They hoped to eventually be able to upgrade to a larger house after Andy became more established in his career and after they had children, but that was at least a couple of years away. First they both wanted to sow some wild oats and explore their many fantasies with each other before settling down.
That was the thing that Char and Andy shared their ravenous sexual appetites. The sparks flew the first time they went to bed together. There was seemingly nothing Char wouldn't do in bed, nor anything Andy wouldn't push her to do either.
During the first few weeks of their marriage they wore each other out. And the more they pushed each other, the more they each wanted. Char, in particular, couldn't seem to get enough attention. Her sexual needs were both insatiable and compulsive.
Now she found herself alone in a new town with no friends to talk to as her husband was away on his first extended business trip. At first she contented herself by masturbating to relieve her sexual needs.
But she missed the feel and warmth of flesh against flesh, the sound of their sighs, grunts and moans. She missed the sound of their frantic voices exhorting each other to go faster, harder, deeper. Char felt increasingly adrift, empty, unfulfilled.
Char stood at the kitchen sink doing the dishes after a quiet dinner alone again. Her slender fingers gripped the edge of the counter as she gazed out the window, thinking about her husband, missing him.
He had been gone on a business trip for over a week already and wouldn't be home for at least another two week and it left her disconsolate, miserable. She craved the touch of his hands and the feeling of fullness that came when he was inside her.
Char finished drying the dishes and put them away. But her mind never left her husband and the void that had been left by his absence. She headed toward the small living room and the TV, hoping there was something on the television that would distract her from her nagging, needy anxiety.
She stopped to look at herself in the mirror, hoping to improve her mood by reminding herself what a 'looker' she was, remembering how her husband liked to described her.
She was still in the floral dress she had worn to work that day, a soft floral pastel number that hugged her curvy figure. Floral girly dresses that showed a lot of cleavage were her preferred uniform.
The bottom of her dresses would swing back and forth gently as her hips swayed and as she shifted her weight to make them do so, aware of the attention it would draw to her.
Her long, wavy flaxen blonde hair cascaded down her back, catching the fading light in a way that made her look almost ethereal as she saw her reflection in the window in front of her, making her smile.
Was the dress too sexy, to provocative, too revealing, she wondered self-consciously. She had been feeling lonely for her husband as she dressed that morning.
Had it been inappropriate to wear this dress to work, one that showed so much more of her cleavage than usual, she wondered. Char's mind was a maelstrom of random thoughts fueled by her unyielding anxiety.
Her sparkling blue eyes, usually warm and inviting, were smoldering with anxiety. Char's thoughts turned to her situation at work. Her boss Jack's behavior was becoming more aggressive.
He was constantly saying things to her that were laced with sexual innuendos. His touching had become more frequent, bolder. He made her feel uncomfortable, but at the same time she found it exciting, wicked, naughty, delicious.
As she thought about her recent interactions with Jack, she questioned her own behavior, wondering if he might be misinterpreting her attempts to deal with his aggressive behavior tactfully, reading it as a sign of her approval.
She worried that he might mistake her attempts to maintain a cheerful disposition as flirting. Worse, she worried that he might think she was being a prick tease, a slut, leading him on.
She questioned herself again. Was she overreacting? Was the anxiety and frustration she was feeling a result of Jack's increasingly bold and aggressive behavior or just a manifestation of her own growing frustration at her new husband's long absence.
Andrew had been gone for over a week now, off on the longest business trip of their young marriage. Char missed him terribly. But not just for his companionship but for the way he made her feel ― safe, desired, complete and perhaps even more important ― filled. Without him, the house felt too quiet, too empty, just as she felt without him inside her.
Char's mind veered in another direction, remembering their pillow talk and their early sexual experiences together, her deep throating him the first time, letting him cum in her mouth and later, surrendering her ass to him for the very first time.
And then there was their first threesome, their ménage à trois with James. It had bridged the gap between pillow talk fantasies and an exciting new reality, shattering Char's conventional ideas about sex and marriage.
And then she reminisces about the subsequent pillow talk where they fantasized about new bold adventures, like more threesomes with another man or maybe even a woman, swapping with another couple and group sex, among other things, like swapping and swinging. Those conversations had fueled their desires and mutual fantasies, resulting in wild nights in bed together.
Char tried to reel herself in, to remain grounded. She'd tried to keep herself busy, but the loneliness gnawed at her, and her thoughts kept drifting to the last time they'd made love. It had been over a week since then, and her body was starting to ache with unfulfilled desire.
Since they had been married, she had never been able to go more than two days without having her husband's cock inside her. Char blushed at even thinking so vulgar a word.
The doorbell rang, shattering the silence and her reverie. Char frowned, glancing at the clock. It was nearly eight o'clock. Who could be visiting at this hour? She got up from the couch and made her way to the front door, her bare feet padding softly against the floor. Through the peephole, she saw a group of men standing on the porch.
Her heart sank as she recognized her boss, Jack, flanked by three other men she didn't recognize. She sensed that they were drunk from their glassy look in their eyes. Their laughter carried through the door, loud and boisterous, and Char's stomach twisted with unease.
She hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Char reminded herself once again that Jack had been acting strangely lately, making inappropriate comments and lingering too close during their one-on-one meetings.
She had tried to brush it off, telling herself she was overreacting, but now, seeing him on her doorstep with those leering men, she felt a chill run down her spine. She took a deep breath as she tried to decide whether to open the door or not ― or finally confront Jack head-on.
