C3 Horny words of a sex starved wife (3)

"It's okay if you don't want us to talk about you anyway."

He began after he must have sensed that I wasn't ready to open up after the silence that came from me

"I'm not dying to know more about his beautiful lady yet, I guess I'd still need all the time in the whole wide world" he continued, winking his eyes.

I was mute; I was oddly elated that he had brought me back to reality.

I was already reminiscing about the bad dating ordeal I had with Andrew and those thoughts bring back memories.

Those memories bring back pain.

Those pains bring back hate.

And I hated to be reminded of such a terrible past, such a horrible past year with my ex.

Such remembrance makes me hate myself.

Andrew was the major contributor to my way of life and personality.

Andrew was the source of my introverted self.

He had really subjected me to pain.

He had subjected me to being alone and enjoying my own company because the few years I had spent in his house made me realize how inhuman the human called Andrew was.

He had been such a prick to me.

No one really understood why I had to leave him.

We had been together for three years.

Three very horrible years filled with lies, deceit, domestic abuse, rough good sex, disrespect, atrocity, and cheating.

He had seemed quiet at first, sweet, and ethical.

A nice guy, the kind that wore pinstripe pants, brown sweaters, and gelled his hair.

He had many reservations that I hadn't understood, but I'd accepted.

He always bought me flowers, bouquet after bouquet of tulips with a fragrance pleasant to my nostril until I became sick of it.

Terribly sick of it.

Everything smelled like tulips in the house, even my clothes.

I rubbed a scar on my arm, my stomach knotting as I remembered how I got it.

One of the ugliest scars on my flawless white skin.

It gave my skin the only flaws on it anyway, aside from the most recent when he had blown my eyes.

I had been out to see one of my best friends, Naomi, at a local coffee shop, and we had lost track of time.

He returned home before I did.

He made me stretch my arms over the kitchen island, and then he whipped me with his belt.

Its buckle caught a chunk of flesh, and blood pooled on the gray marble.

He spat in my hair before he cleaned me up and fucked me.

Fucked me like I was a slut who had run away with a bag of his Benjamin Franklin, and he caught me and wanted revenge, leaving me there with a bandaged wound and an injured self-esteem. Despite how unprepared I was for the sex, I was still able to cum.

Andrew stole everything that made me a woman.

Let's not talk about my virginity but he had stolen my confidence, my voice.

At that turn, I knew I couldn't continue being with him. I had moved out of the apartment we shared and stayed with my best friend, Naomi, ever since.

We paid all the bills together and had been best friends for such a long time, so living together was not really a problem.

Except that Naomi was a terrible cook.

After some months of living together, I knew it was time for me to move.

To rent my own apartment, to live on my own, and to start a life anew without being accountable to anyone else.

Andrew left me weak; I became stronger than I was.

Andrew left me an emotional weak lady who can easily be blackmailed into doing what she doesn't want to do.

I worked on my emotions and on myself, and it was in that phase of my life that I met Peters.

The cool guy was the one every lady admired in the room.

Peter was the exact opposite of whatever my ex was.

He wasn't as romantic as he was. Literally, but he knew the right word to use on different occasions.

Peter, at first, was like my prayer answer.

He was kind, easygoing, and would rather walk away than engage in an argument with you, and as time went on, I started complaining. Complaints after complaints, and it was all centered on one thing. Our poor sex life.

I wasn't the one to compare between my ex and my present, but no matter how toxic Andrew was, he knew just how to fuck me and make me cum, but with my husband, he was ready to stay a whole year without touching me, and when I talk, he'd tell me that sex isn't food.

Heaven knows that I was actually suffering in my marriage.

My two daughters were the only companions I had.

Peter wouldn't take me out on a date.

He wouldn't buy me flowers; he wouldn't bring me breakfast in bed.

He wouldn't-

"So what's your plan for the night?"

He asked interestingly, yet again interrupting my thoughts and thank goodness he did, because I was already feeling pained rememberIng how I was sex starved in my marriage.

"Nothing really, just drink, get high, get drunk, and go home." I chuckled.

He stared at me, mouth agape.

I'm sure he must have been surprised to hear such an ungodly and maybe unguarded utterance from me out of the blue.

"Are you being serious, or is this one of Ju's jokes?" I laughed out lightly.

"Was pulling your legs anyway."

We both laughed.

"Fuck you, Ju!"

He screamed out jokingly. "Anyways, for your information Mr. Micheal” I cleared my throat.

Fixed my gaze at him as we both started a staring contest. He was the first to blink. I sniggered.

“I can't fuck myself, Mr. Michael Newman and i am sure you know that”

I took my time to reply.

"Someone has to come and do the fucking." I winked.

He bent his head and laughed inwardly.

He then inhaled deeply.

Returned his gaze to me.

He had gently placed the heel of his open palm under his chin, allowing his jaw to relax naturally with his teeth slightly apart.

I smiled.

Astounded by how many words I was saying.

It was very unusual for me.

Very unethical to be opening my mouth and talking freely with a total stranger whom I had met just barely a few hours ago.

It was weird. It was strange.

I was surprised at my quick socialization process.

Maybe it was the alcohol that I had been consuming earlier that was already having its effect on me; I couldn't tell.

The atmosphere was already getting darker, and we both figured it was time to go home.

"I wish to know more about you if you don't mind." He asked, oblivious to whatever impression I was already having about him in my mind.

"Really?" I asked.

I felt awkward.

Maybe because he is trying to get more acquainted with me despite the fact that I've been saying a whole lot of words to him.

"Mmm," he nodded in affirmation, protesting with his facial expressions that indeed I haven't opened up to him.

"So what have I been doing all this while?" I asked, still inquisitive.

"You have not told me anything tangible and meaningful yet, my lady," he whispered.

I laughed out loud again.

"Oh that's bullshit Mike! A fucking bullshit, you know?"

"No, I don't know," he winked.

I inhaled deeply, looking at him directly into his eyes.

He was returning the gaze and wasn't ready to interrupt the staring game this time.

"Maybe you're right" I finally admitted, owing to the fact that I've been talking randomly without letting him know anything personal about me except for the fact that I'm Judith.

That was all.

Maybe I should tell him that I was also a sex-starved wife?