Moira Mathias gazed at her image in the full-length mirror in the bathroom, adjusting her double-D-cup breasts inside the plunging cleavage of the black, leather corset Bob had bought for her. The material clung to her body, too tight for comfort. She turned sideways and slouched her shoulders at the sight of her bulging belly. Six months after childbirth and she still hadn’t returned to her former body shape.

Not that she hoped she would ever wear size six again, but she believed she would feel better about herself if she ditched a couple of pounds. After all, she could not grow past her five-foot-two.

Living in Florianópolis didn’t improve her self-image. A city famous for its tropical beaches brimming with women in skimpy bikinis flaunting their toned bodies would put a serious dent on any woman’s self-esteem. On top of that, Moira’s husband’s constant jokes about her expanding figure, and the disappearance of romance from their marriage, had her constantly on the edge.

She squared her shoulders and held her breath, smoothing the leather over her belly and hips. The sexy outfit had been Bob’s idea. Wanting to humor him, she had agreed. Still, it felt odd, and a bit stupid, to role-play in the sack. Shouldn’t it be that they had sex because they wanted to do it? Why should they work so hard for the damn thing? It should come naturally.

Reminding herself Bob’s business put him in the middle of temptation on a regular basis, Moira began to apply some light make-up to accentuate her high cheeks and exotic eye color. Green eyeshadow brought out the golden specks in her honey-colored eyes. She didn’t want to go overboard with make-up, though. The last time she had visited Bob’s advertising agency, she rode in the elevator with a couple of models, who wore too much make-up. She didn’t want her husband to mix her with those vulgar types. She had been raised like a good girl, in a traditional family.

She didn’t do vulgar.

So why was it that she had been cussing a lot in her head lately.

Moira didn’t want to overanalyze stuff, so she had chosen to ignore some red flags coming from Bob. Unfortunately, the sex games and sexy outfit were not some of those flags.

He had always loved those things.

Fidgeting with the corset, unable to make the saggy lump in her belly disappear, Moira’s enthusiasm began to waver. She had read somewhere that hormones could go berserk after a pregnancy. And that the imbalance provoked different symptoms, from depression to brittle nails to falling hair. Eyes still trained on her reflection, she ran her fingers through the blonde strands that reached a couple of inches below her shoulders and realized her hair had lost some of its sheen.

Moira pulled down the corset, loosened the red lacing through the eyelets, readjusted the panels, then laced it tightly again. That was a lot of work for their biweekly night of sex. She wasn’t sure it was worth her while. Bob, on the other hand, had been keen on introducing a little role-playing in their bedroom to spice things up.

She swirled to check all angles of the outfit. Thigh-high black stockings held in place by lacy garters over a barely-there thong, and the damn leather corset on top of it all.

Ridiculous.

How had she turned into this spineless twenty-eight-old mother of two, trying to please her husband by pretending to be someone else? At what point had she given up on what she wanted out of their marriage?

“Coming out anytime this century?” Bob sounded through the closed door. “I don’t want to end up having to jerk off, not after spending a fortune on your sexy lingerie.”

She didn’t remember asking for the outfit.

“Just a minute, hon.” She applied two drops of his favorite perfume on her cleavage.

Time to face her husband.

Opening the door to their bedroom, she leaned against the threshold, aiming for a sexy pose, and justified. “I was making myself beautiful for you.”

“Took you long enough. Let me see how it turned out. Turn around.”

She twirled.

“That will do it.” Naked and perched on the side of the bed, Bob didn’t show his age. Moira’s gaze took in his flat stomach and firm muscles, and she had to remind herself he had recently turned fifty. He patted the center of the mattress. “Hop on.” As she crawled to the middle of the bed, his hands cupped the butt cheeks the thong exposed, squeezing them together. “You’ve got quite an ass now. This is something I don’t mind that the two brats made bigger.” Kneeling behind her, Bob nestled his semi-erect cock against her butt crack, leaning on her back, cupping her breasts. He reached inside the strapless corset and rolled her nipples between his fingers. “You’ve always had huge boobs, so the kids only made them saggy. But they did make your ass more fuckable.” He nudged her tiny hole with the tip of his dick. She flinched. Bob huffed. “I’d say ten years is a long time for a man to wait to fuck his wife’s ass, don’t you think?”

She looked over her shoulder. Bob’s smirk contorted his classic features as he poked her again with the thick head of his cock. “I can’t help it. I’m terrified at the thought. Ask me anything else, and I might consider. Not this, though.”

Anal was a hard-limit for Moira, and Bob was well-aware of that, but he would bring up the subject on a regular basis. At that point, she believed he did it to annoy her more than anything else. Her best clue was that he would quickly drop the subject.

Confirming her suspicions, he shrugged. “I’ll settle for the next best thing. Turn around.”

When she faced him, Bob buried his fingers in her hair, held her head in an angle that favored him, and nudged her lips with his half-mast cock. She opened her mouth, and his shaft glided over her tongue. As Bob thrust in and out of her, slowly going deeper, his erection got stiffer. She focused her attention on the muscles in her throat, relaxing them to accommodate his considerable girth. She didn’t want to choke.

“That’s a good girl,” he muttered through gritted teeth, as he increased the speed of his stabbing movements.

When he grabbed her hair, and shoved his cock down her throat, Moira panicked as air got cut off from her lungs. Finding it hard to breathe, she hollowed her cheeks, but still tears rolled down her cheeks from the effort. Feeling uncomfortable on her hands and knees, Moira tried to kneel. She reached up to grab Bob to keep her balance, but he shoved her hands aside.

“Stay as you were. I’m almost there.”

His tightened balls bumped against her chin, and his swollen cock twitched against the back of her throat. Controlling the gagging reflex when the first jets warmed her throat, Moira was surprised by Bob’s retreat from her mouth.

For a fleeting second, her silly heart fluttered. Maybe tonight he’d stick his fucking dick inside her fucking pussy and fuck the hell out of her. She could use some of that as opposed to her battery-operated best friend.

But, her hopes got quickly crushed, when he stuck his cock inside her cleavage and unloaded himself. Stunned, she watched the whitish goo seep through the metal eyelets onto the dark blue bedspread.

Fuck!

She had changed the bed linen just for that night. Now she would have to wash everything.

From a nearby chair, Bob fished his briefs out of the haphazard pile of clothes he had created when he undressed. He donned it before he slipped under the covers, his back turned to Moira. His snores filled the room as she crawled out of the bed. She turned off the light on the nightstand and tip-toed back to the bathroom.

Ridding herself of the sticky corset, Moira got under the shower to wash off the rest of the mess Bob had made. She considered using the handheld shower to get off and relax, but realized there was no tension, no pent-up sexual energy for her to deal with.

She felt nothing.

Not even a tingle.

As she toweled herself dry, she peered at her face in the mirror, searching for the usual signs of distress, or self-loathing, or disgust.

She found none of that.

Her eyes were clear, but neutral. She didn’t understand why until it dawned on her.

Bob’s attitude didn’t hurt her anymore.

She didn’t feel like a cheap whore anymore.

She didn’t feel like a real-size sex toy either.

He had done it.

His insensitivity had made her numb.

There was only so much a person could take. He had exceeded her limits.

She shrugged and swirled to go back to bed.

At least, she didn’t have to fake orgasms anymore either.