Frustration The little bitch, Laura thought in exasperation when the child giggled instead of answering what she had asked her. Laura repeated the question, her irritation rising.
"Will you please tell us the three main kinds of rocks, Janice?"
The little girl's mind was not on rocks, but on the boy sitting behind her who was making insulting remarks which she was obviously enjoying. Janice laughed again.
Laura blew up, her face flaming with anger.
"Sit down! I don't know why you bother to come to school at all! You don't care anything about learning!"
Janice sat down and simpered. She turned around and gave some kind of answer to her tormentor. Laura tried to ignore her, and she called on another pupil, her voice shaking.
"John, can you answer the question?"
John got up slowly, stalling for time. "Uh… sedimentary, igneous, and… uh…"
Laura waited as long as she could in her nervous state. Then, when he obviously didn't know the third kind, she snapped at him, "Thank you, John. You'll have to listen better from now on!"
Laura heard herself with horror. She wasn't usually this shrewish.
What's the matter with me today? she wondered.
"Nancy, can you give us the third kind of rock?"
Nancy was amiable. She smiled prettily, but she was no help.
"Well! I can see that nobody's been listening much lately!" Laura said, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She felt herself losing all control. When she glanced at the clock, it was ten minutes to three. Laura felt that she was about to cry.
I'll never make it! I can't stand any more!
"Is there anyone in the class who knows the three kinds of rock?" Laura drummed her fingers nervously on her desk. The children reacted to her tension. Most of them were watching her closely, waiting for her to blow up. There were no hands in the air.
"Well! I can see that I've been wasting my time here, and so have you! Let's forget the whole thing!" Laura shrieked, losing all control of herself. She slammed a book down hard.
Laura noticed that quite a few children jumped at that and looked very startled. She came to her senses and very quietly said, "I think that we're all tired for today. Take out your library books and read until it's time to go home."
She looked at the clock again. It was only seven minutes to three.
Will this day never end? she wondered hysterically.
The seven minutes finally passed, and Laura watched the children tumble out of the room in small groups, obviously gossiping about her.
When the last pupil had gone, Laura put her head down on her desk and wept. She sobbed and gasped hysterically for about ten minutes. Then she ran for the washroom to wash her face. She powdered her nose and got ready to go home.
Well, it's really something when I fall apart over every little thing! Why should I take it out on the children just because I'm lonely and frustrated? Thirty-six and never been fucked. I must have set some kind of a record.
Laura wept again and, consumed with guilt, she packed up her books and walked out of the building. She passed Mr. Lawson, the only attractive single man in the school, but as usual he ignored her. She was about to say hello, but decided against it as long as he was deliberately looking the other way, just to avoid her.
Depressed and still guilty about the way she had behaved in class, Laura drove slowly home, asking herself what was the matter with her.
Why am I such a dud? I never go anywhere that's exciting, and I never have any fun. The few men I know avoid me like the plague. I'm not ugly. I see much homelier women having boyfriends and dates, so why can't l? Oh, I wish that I were anyone but me. I wish I were dead!
This started up the tears again, and Laura wept all the rest of the way home. She picked up her usual uninteresting mail and trudged wearily upstairs, tired from her depression.
Laura unpacked her briefcase and put the teapot on to boil, in order to have a cup of tea before she began marking her papers. She moved slowly and with great effort. Nothing seemed worth doing any more.
As she marked her papers, Laura sighed and a tear dropped on one paper, smudging it. She put the work away only half-done. With a sigh she realized that it was time to get ready for her birthday dinner with her sister and brother-in-law that evening.
I need a man. I want someone to make love to me.
Laura wept again and desperately wiped her eyes with a cold washcloth, trying to get the swelling down.
I'll look like hell tonight. But what difference does it make, anyway? No one ever looks at me.
As she bathed, Laura examined her body closely, wondering why no man had ever desired it, had ever wanted to fuck her. It was slim and firm. She had medium-sized, lovely tits, a tiny waist and swelling hips.
If I were a man, I'd want a body like that, she mused. My tits would be even bigger if some man were sucking on them all the time.
She felt like crying again but resisted it for her swollen eyes' sake. She sniffed, blew her nose and resumed her study of her body. Laura's eyes traveled to her box, covered with curly auburn hair.
Laura dreamed about the unused cunt that lay hidden behind its furry curtain.
Never been used. Wasting away. It's so wet and ready for fucking! What a waste!
Laura stared at her firm, pointy boobs and she began to stroke the bumpy brown nipples. She shivered at the touch.
She had not played with her own body for years. Laura had tried to masturbate for the first time when she was about twenty-eight years old. She had worked on her tits and cunt for hours that day. She could still remember the anguish of sexual frustration, rubbing away at her insides only to give up in despair. All that she had accomplished with her diddling that day was to rouse her lonely body even more – to wish an excitement and a fulfillment that she was unable to provide for herself.
Laura had been sexually over-stimulated and horny for weeks after that episode, and she had sworn never again to torment herself by trying to finger-fuck her cunt to a climax, no matter how frustrated she was. She sighed, remembering the aching desire she had brought to a peak of excitement, all for nothing.
All those sex writers who claim you can masturbate and have orgasms are crazy. They're probably the over-sexed whores who fuck so many men that they know how. I wouldn't know how to even start.
She was so full of lust and sexual cravings that she poured herself a Manhattan, drinking it down in one big gulp. As she chewed on the cherry, she realized that it didn't help at all. Her cunt still ached, wanting to be rubbed, to be filled by a man's cock.
I'll never make it. How can I live the rest of my life without being screwed? I need it! I know that's why I'm so tense and irritable. I've got to have some relief!
Laura rubbed her nipples as she gulped down her second and then her third Manhattan. She was beginning to forget her past horrible experience with finger-fucking. All she knew was that she craved sex – any kind, with anyone – even with herself, if necessary. She had to have her cunt touched and rubbed and penetrated.
Laura panted as she ran for her bed and pulled off the spread quickly. She kept rubbing her nipples, which were hard and protruding now. She was ready.
Ready for what? Ready to fuck myself. I have to try it again. I have to! I need it so badly.
She lay on her bed, rubbing her tit with one hand and her clitoris with the other. Laura had read all the books and she knew just what to do, in her mind. As she lay there and rubbed, she made a mental survey of the objects she had in the house that she could use for an artificial prick. She had to push something hard inside her cunt. She needed a fucking!
The vacuum-cleaner handle would probably work – but then I'd have to do it standing up. Impossible!
She'd heard about women fucking their twats with bananas and cucumbers, so she went into the kitchen to see what she could find. There were no bananas, and the cucumber was too thick. Laura shuddered.
It would hurt me. I can almost feel it!
She ran to the bathroom and found an enema bag. The plastic piece on the end of the hose was much too small, but it was all she had.
Laura dipped the imitation prick into cream and then she began to rub her cunt with it. She turned on soft music and tried to think sexy thoughts as she rubbed and fucked her dribbling hole.
Laura was getting very stimulated. The diddling was beginning to work. She panted with desire, wanting an orgasm, not even knowing what it was.
Laura rubbed and rubbed her snatch. Then she turned over on her stomach, pushed the plastic piece into her hole hard, and squeezed her legs around it. She felt it inside her twat, and she ached with wanting, but Laura didn't know how to let go. Nothing had happened. She lusted and wanted, and her cunt ached more now than before.
What triggers an orgasm with a real man? It must be when he ejaculates. Maybe when the woman feels all that cum gushing into her cunt, that stimulates an orgasm.
Laura kept rubbing her snatch as she pondered and planned. She suddenly had an idea that might work!
Taking the plastic prick out of her box, she ran with the whole apparatus to the bathroom and left it by the sink. Then she ran to the linen closet and took two large, heavy bath towels, which she arranged on top of each other on the bed.
Shaking with excitement and need, Laura filled the enema bag with about a cup of warm water, making sure that the clamp was locked. She ran with it to the bed and lay down on the heavy towels.
Unfortunately, Laura had to start all over again. The aching and the need and the tension in her cunt still remained, but her sexual excitement had waned. She had to begin again with everything, and it was getting late.
Determined, she held the water-filled enema bag with one hand, and she doggedly began to rub her boob again with her free hand. When the nipple was erect and tingling again, lust-filled Laura began to rub her clitoris, finally feeling it rise and become a hard little bump. Laura's breath was coming in fast, shallow little gasps. Her whole body tensed and ached with need.
I'm going to make it. I have to!
She turned over on her stomach and inserted the greased imitation prick into her oozing hole. In, out, in, out, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. It made loud fucking noises in her wet, ready cunt.
I wonder if I'm still a virgin. I must have broken my cherry last time, because this doesn't hurt me.
She kept fucking her twat with the long, hard plastic piece. Nearly hysterical with lust and longing, Laura felt that she was finally ready. She unfastened the metal clamp and tried to fool herself as the warm water flooded her cunt.
He's coming! His sperm is filling my hole! I'm being filled with warm, sticky jism! I have to come now. I have to!
She squeezed her legs together and prayed for release. If anything happened, it couldn't have been very much. Laura felt thrilled, but she hadn't come. She had nothing but feelings of frustration and anger.
Why? Why should I be cheated?
She angrily pulled the useless prick out of her aching snatch and ran to the bathroom. Laura sadly washed it and put it away, forever.
You tried, little prick. I'm either frigid – and I don't think I am – or I don't know how to come yet. I need a man to teach me how to fuck and how to have an orgasm. I need a big, warm, live prick to fuck me and fill my cunt.
Laura pulled the damp towels off the bed and avoided looking at the clock as she wearily made herself another drink. She had never drunk more than two Manhattans at a time before, and she felt dizzy and lightheaded, but not happy.
Laura was sober enough to know she'd be late, and that she wouldn't be ready when Betty and Jim came to pick her up at seven. But she was drunk and disgusted enough not to give a damn. All she cared about was her lonely, empty cunt that had to be filled. She resolved to get a man somehow. She'd get fucked, or die trying!
She dressed as prettily as she could, fussing with her hair and make-up in a dazed, drunken way. Laura was so dizzy that she didn't even care about her red, swollen eyes. She covered them with dark make-up and thick false eyelashes, not even noticing that she had covered nothing.
Pretty good-looking, even if you can't fuck.
Laura admired herself through her blurry eyes. The horn was honking for her, and she was nowhere near ready. In a drunken stupor, she slowly moved to the window and waved to her sister and brother-in-law. She signaled them to come upstairs. Then she put on a robe, set out some more glasses and ice, bottles of bourbon and vermouth, and a few crackers. Laura offered them a drink when they finally puffed upstairs. Jim was irritable because Laura wasn't ready and he had to climb the stairs.
"Happy birthday, Laura," he mumbled, looking very sullen.
"Thank you," she replied, too drunk to be embarrassed.
"Jesus! Aren't you ready yet? We have a seven-thirty reservation, and they may not hold "I'm sorry," lied Laura, not at all sorry. She had used up all of her sorriness feeling sorry for herself, and there wasn't a bit left for anyone else.
Betty, as perceptive and sweet as ever, gave Laura a birthday kiss and rushed her back to the bedroom to get dressed. "We'll have our drinks while you finish, hon. Hurry up, now." Her worried frown showed that she had seen the red, swollen eyes under all the heavy make-up. She also saw that Laura was drunk, something she'd never seen before. Betty sighed and finished her drink.
Laura ambled back to her bathroom and dressed herself in a daze.
Nothing seems to matter, dinner least of all. I have to change my life. I have to!
She was nearly ready when Betty came back to the bedroom to rush her.
"Jim's getting edgy, Laura. Hurry it up, will you?"
"Sure. I'm almost ready, Bet."
"You know, when he gets nervous about being late, it can spoil everyone's evening, he gets so grouchy."
"Jim? No-never. He's always so good-natured. There. I'm ready."
As they left the bedroom, Betty couldn't resist asking her sister. "What's the matter, honey?"
"Nothing."
I need to be fucked. How can I tell you that?
"Can't you tell me? It'll make you feel better, I'll bet."
"What's there to tell? It's just that I'm at the end of my rope."
"What do you mean?"
Laura gathered up her purse as she said, suddenly almost sober, "I need something, Bet. I'm dying inside. I need something, or I'm not going to make it!"
They joined Jim before Betty could answer Laura, but Betty was very quiet after that, worrying all the way to the restaurant.
As Jim parked the car, Laura and Betty waited in the vestibule of the restaurant. Betty put her hand on her sister's arm.
"Can I help, hon?"
"No, thanks, Bet. Maybe something will happen.