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Why did that goddamned itchy ache get worse at night? It was always that way! She was a mature woman someone who prided herself on controlling her emotions. Well, couldn’t she sit down and drive out those horrible thoughts plaguing her more and more each evening? Linda Dennis went to the liquor cabinet and made herself another drink. NO, there wouldn’t be so much Scotch in it this time around. She didn’t want to turn into an alcoholic. Maybe in an hour or two she’d manage to calm herself down to have a glass of milk and get off to bed.
Milk! That was funny. She remembered when she held her son Donny in her arms and how she’d let one tit fall from her dress and let the baby suck on her nipple. How strangely exciting it felt to have his tiny mouth sucking hard, oh so hard on that titty tip! Even then, looking back on it now, Linda admitted she’d somehow become sexually aroused at feeding time. And it was about the only thing she’d had to sexually arouse her in her marriage.
Although life might have been easier if Jack had lived, it certainly wouldn’t have been better. That klutz was an asshole from the time he slipped the wedding ring on her finger to the time he drove his car off the road into the Pacific Ocean. He was always just around the corner of the “big deal.” Oh, how Linda hated him talking about that deal that never materialized! How she wanted to take Donnie and get away from him. Well, Jack and his drinking saved her the trouble from making the effort. Now she was alone, raising a eighteen year old, just turned thirty-four and horribly horny.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.