Mom Likes It Rough

Mom Likes It Rough</p>
A few of you may recognize this story from several years ago. It's been updated and rewritten since then.
*****

Chapter 1 -- Not Rough Enough</p>November 7th. Sunday Night. 10:17 PM.

"Harder," Sarah begged.
Jack pumped into his wife, his body hovering over hers in the relative darkness of their bedroom.
"Harder!" she demanded loudly.
"Shhh!" he scolded her. "Do you want Mike to hear you?"
The forty-three-year-old mother temporarily lost her breath at the idea of their son hearing them. "Oh my God, that would be so hot! Make him hear us!"
"No, Sarah--"
"I want him worried about what you're doing to me!" she interrupted, grinning up at him. She grabbed his hand and placed it on her neck. "Choke me."
"Are you crazy?"
"Then slap me," she countered. "Hard."
He let out a loud huff. The forty-seven-year-old dad was tired of whatever phase his wife was going through. Did it even qualify as a phase at this point? She'd been obsessed with rough sex for the past three years despite the knowledge that he wasn't on board with her desires, and her constant nagging had grown exhausting.
"I'm not choking, slapping, or doing any of that stuff to you. Cut it out."
She pulled his limp hand off her throat and attempted to make him slap her face. He quickly yanked his arm away before she was able to do so.
"What's wrong with you?" he asked, sliding out of her and rolling over to his side of the bed.
Sarah took a deep breath while gazing up at their bedroom ceiling. "Stop acting like I have something wrong with me."
"But there is something wrong with you. Normal women don't act this way."
She was so sick of being told that something was wrong with her. So what if she wanted to have rough sex? Was it really so crazy to spice up their love life and try new things? The sex that they had once or twice a month couldn't possibly be more vanilla. She was tired of being turned down, laughed at, and told to behave. Sometimes, she wanted to be more like the girls in the erotic novels she loved to read. Sometimes, she wanted to be bad.
"This all started when you got that dumb Kindle," Jack said. "At least I knew what you were reading back when you always had a paperback in your hand. Do you have any idea how strange it was for me when I discovered that my wife was reading porn? Sarah, that's not normal."
"Yes, it is," she argued.
"No, it isn't. And then you told me that you watch porn too. Am I married to a grown woman or a teenager? You constantly nag me for sex, you read and watch porn, and you want me to rough you up in bed. It's ridiculous!"
The blonde mom rolled her blue eyes. She couldn't control her sex drive. Yes, it'd always been higher than Jack's, but things kind of exploded after her fortieth birthday. Now, she was constantly horny.
Did her sex drive feel like a burden at times? Honestly? Yes, it did. But what guy didn't want to be married to a woman like her? She would come home after a long day and desperately crave to give her husband a blowjob, and he would act like it was some kind of hardship! It just didn't make any sense!
So, with her sexual needs not being attended to, she decided to direct her pent-up frustration elsewhere. She'd signed up for a gym membership two years ago and lost the extra twenty pounds that had bugged her for the last decade. She was five-foot-five and weighed just under one hundred and forty pounds. She was fit and still retained all her curves, but it was like Jack didn't even notice her plump backside or sizable breasts anymore.
"It could be really fun to try some new things in bed," she huffed, frustrated as ever. "I don't understand why you can't have an open mind. What's the harm in giving me a little slap? If you don't like it, then fine, but you won't even try it!"
Jack placed his hands on his beer belly before his right palm ran through the little remaining brown hair on his mostly bald head. "I don't need to slap my wife in the face to know that I wouldn't like it."
"No, it's--"
"I thought you were reading romance novels or something," he interrupted. "Never in a million years would I have guessed that it was graphic sexual stuff. What's the appeal of being dominated by some billionaire boss who acts like a jerk? It's disgusting."
"It's the appeal of being dominated--period. Lots of women love the idea of submitting to a powerful man. Sure, it's hot to think about that, but I want to submit to a man I love. Why's that so hard for you to grasp?"
"So, you want me to make more money?" he asked.
Sarah shot him a confused look from her spot in bed. "What? No, I don't care about money. The power fantasy for women is the same as the eighteen-year-old schoolgirl fantasy for men. It's something lavish and out there. It's just a fantasy. What I really want is for you to treat me like a slut in the bedroom."
He let out an exhausted groan.
"But asyabahis yeni giriş I do!" she whined. "And I don't understand why you don't want that! What guy turns down blowjobs, by the way? Huh? It's fuckin' crazy, Jack!"
"Because I'm tired," he told her. "I work a ton of hours and I have to travel an entire week every month, so sometimes I just want to relax."
"Then work less," she proposed.
"I can't."
"That's such bullshit!" she argued. "Our mortgage is paid off and we don't have any debt. We have everything we need. Stop using that as an excuse!"
"It's not an excuse. What about retirement? Do you want to be working until you're seventy? I bust my butt to give us a good life. Sorry if that takes priority to your ridiculous sexual fantasies, but it does."
It drove her nuts how he couldn't see things her way. "What good is money when we're dead? It would be nice to leave Mike a nest egg, but our happiness is more important. We only have one life. We should enjoy it."
"God, this is a perfect example of how men and women are different," he remarked under his breath, rolling his eyes.
She didn't follow. "What?"
"Guys are always striving for more. I work hard, I've started side businesses, and I'm always thinking and trying to create new things. Women just go with the flow. There's no motivation or creativity in your gender."
"That's nonsense," she huffed, annoyed by his misogynistic perspective.
"Name something invented by a woman."
...
"Exactly," he laughed as a result of her silence. "Yeah, work is more important to me than sex, and that's why--"
"That's why, what?" Sarah asked, curious as to why he'd cut himself off.
"Nothing."
She refused to accept that for an answer. "Tell me what you were going to say."
"No, it'll hurt your feelings."
"I'm a big girl, I can handle it. Tell me," she said.
He turned his attention to the curious look on his wife's face. "That's why you're a secretary."
Her brow furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Because you don't strive for anything greater," he explained. "No guy would work your job. We want bigger things while you girls just accept mediocrity. You'd rather sit around and read a book than work."
She should feel insulted from what she'd just heard, shouldn't she? The problem was that she didn't feel hurt at all. Jack was absolutely right. She loved going with the flow. She never desired much more than a decent job and a family, to be completely honest. She was a secretary for a small real estate company and had no intention of leaving. It paid decent money, provided health insurance for her family--and most importantly--it was a low-stress gig. She didn't see the problem with her lifestyle.
"Of course, I would rather read a book than work!" she laughed. "So would everyone else!"
"No, they wouldn't. I never would."
"Yeah, because you're the most neurotic person I've ever met," she continued to chuckle. "You can't even sit down and watch TV without pulling out your laptop or doing something on your phone. It isn't normal."
"Not normal?" he asked with his eyebrows raised. "Not normal is wanting to have sex in the shower because you saw some dumb movie with your friend the other week. What kind of trash are you watching where people are having shower sex, by the way?"
"The movie was goofy but that scene was really hot," she told him with a sly smile. "Sex in the shower doesn't sound awesome to you?"
He shook his head no.
"I don't know how else to tell you what I want at this point. I want to have rough, physical, aggressive sex. I want to be treated like a whore when we're inside our bedroom. It doesn't have to be all the time, but it needs to start happening. Oh, I found that article too!"
He watched her reach toward her nightstand and retrieve her phone. She scrolled for a few moments before handing it to him.
"Read that for me," she said.
Jack began reading silently.
"Out loud," she added.
"What's your favorite sexual position?" he mumbled. "Seventy-one percent of women say doggy style, while a whopping ninety-two percent of men prefer it in doggy as well. It turns out America's favorite sexual position is also the most primitive."
"I told you!" Sarah announced, proud and devious as always. "I didn't make that up! Everyone loves doggy style!"
"I don't."
Unfortunately, she knew that all too well. "I know. You and eight percent of men. I hate missionary sex. Like, you can't possibly understand how much I resent it. It literally does nothing for me. And when you're actually in the mood for sex, it's always in missionary. I fucking hate it!"
He handed her phone back to her. "Well, there's something else I've wanted to talk to you about too, and it's your potty mouth. Do you have to swear all the time? It's embarrassing to listen to you do it in front of strangers. And our son talks like you as well. It's so trashy."
"How asyabahis giriş about this? I'll swear less if you start fucking me properly."
He shook his head, a light groan escaping from his lips.
Sarah's playful tone rapidly changed. She was growing frustrated. "What do you want me to do then, Jack? Play with myself for the rest of my life? Let's go over the things you won't do."
"Can I just go to bed?"
"No!" she hissed sharply. "One, you won't go down on me. You haven't done it in three years! And I couldn't even tell you the last time you made me cum. Ten years, maybe? You know, I originally bought a vibrator way back when we first got married because of how much you traveled for work. I never would've imagined using it the way I currently do."
"Sarah--"
"It's fucking ridiculous!" she cut him off. "We'll have sex, you'll cum, and then you roll over and go to sleep. I pull out my vibrator and get myself off while my goddamn husband sleeps two feet away from me! That isn't right!"
He rolled his eyes.
"It isn't right, though!" she went on, beyond annoyed. This discussion was long-overdue. "I can't even comprehend the reverse happening. Do you know what I would do if you pulled out your dick and started masturbating? I would immediately give you a blowjob. And do you want to know why? Because you're my husband. It's my job to take care of you. Just like it's your job to take care of me."
"If you cum, you cum," he voiced. "Who cares how it happens?"
She shook her head in disbelief. Sometimes, she didn't understand his mindset at all. "Next, we only have sex in missionary, and it's like once a month. I want it seven days a week. We need to find a middle ground."
"You can't force me to be in the mood for sex," he reminded her. "If I'm not, I'm not. I can't control it."
She breezed past his rebuttal and moved ahead to her other concerns. "Next, I want to give you random blowjobs. I don't understand why you fight me on this. Why can't I give you head when I'm horny and I want a quick fix?"
"Because I'm trying to get stuff done."
"I'm not asking you to stop!" she told him. "Keep working on whatever! Pretend like I'm not even there or something! I love giving head!"
"Are we done?" he asked, fed up and ready for bed.
"How about you go down on me?"
He glanced in her direction reluctantly. "Now?"
"Yeah, now," she said with a smile, holding out hope that he would change for her.
"No, I need to go to bed. I have to wake up early tomorrow."
"Shocking..." she muttered under her breath sarcastically.
Sarah watched him turn off the light on his nightstand before closing his eyes, causing her to smirk with a devilish twinkle in her eyes. She was done holding back. The frustrated mom retrieved her vibrator from her nightstand and turned it to the highest setting. The loud buzzing from her sex toy quickly filled their bedroom.
She slid her pajama bottoms and panties down, and promptly found her clit with the purple buzzing head. She planned to make a production out of the next five minutes.
"Oh, fuck!" she moaned loudly.
Jack huffed and rolled over, now facing away from her.
"That feels so fucking good!" she cried again. "Make me cum, Daddy!"
"Mike is going to hear you," Jack commented.
"I don't care," she giggled, struggling to keep her eyes open from the overwhelming sensations. "I'm gonna cum so hard. Like a little fuckin' whore!"
He rolled his eyes and pulled the blankets over his head.
She'd gone through many phases over the past fifteen years. That's really how long she'd been responsible for getting herself off, after all. Jack seemed to tap out when it came to the bedroom around their five-year anniversary, and she'd been on her own ever since.
Her initial fantasies were tried-and-true. It'd been her biggest weakness since she was a little girl, and sometimes a woman never moves past certain cravings. She just couldn't help but love musicians. Few things got her off like one of her favorite artists--or primarily--a sexy lead singer from a band she loved. But then things began to change.
Movie stars soon followed, and she found herself dreaming of being a co-star in one of their latest summer blockbusters. Maybe she would hit it off with the hunky heartthrob and they would end up fooling around on set throughout the shoot? But Hollywood eventually gave way to professional athletes. This seemed to be around the time that her son was ten or eleven and always had a sports game or highlights playing on the TV, and she quickly realized how sexy quarterbacks were. They certainly didn't look so hot when she was growing up. Her long baths turned into exotic sessions consisting of fantasies about wearing her stud boyfriend's jersey while she waited at home for him to return from the big game.
But then she turned forty and her sex drive completely exploded.
Everyone and everything had been fair game over asyabahis güvenilirmi the past two and a half years. She'd masturbated to the package delivery guy, the college kid stocking shelves at the grocery store, and to a few of her son's teachers after meeting them at parent-teacher conference day. Even his fresh-out-of-college math teacher Ms. Thompson made an appearance during her alone time, but the guys from the gym had become the most popular item on the menu lately. Tall, lean, and muscular. Jocks with wide shoulders, defined biceps, and ripped abs had been her go-to poison of choice over the last twelve months.
But there was one jock who'd been on the outskirts of her fantasies over the past year. He lingered around, occasionally stepping in to make a quick appearance before scurrying away. He wasn't a meathead either. He was kind, caring, sweet, and just so happened to possess an athletic body that she loved so much. He was also the one guy who shouldn't be anywhere near her fantasies, but she couldn't control what did it for her. Maybe Jack was right? If you cum, you cum. It didn't matter how she got to the finish line. No, it only mattered that she got there.
"Oh my God, I'm such a slut!" she cried, her index finger in her mouth as the vibrator buzzed on her throbbing clit. "I'm gonna cum all over that big cock!"
A sexy body, a handsome face, and a big dick: he was everything she wanted in a man. He was charming and thoughtful, but also aggressive and rough. He was her perfect guy.
Tonight, in her fantasy, Sarah was her son's little slut.

Chapter 2 -- A Change of Plans</p>

November 8th. Monday. 6:49 AM.</p>
"Hey, sweetheart."
Mike looked up from his bowl of cereal. The brown-eyed, brown-haired, eighteen-year-old high school senior was dressed for school in a pair of jeans and a red t-shirt as he finished the remainder of his breakfast at the kitchen table. He was six-foot-one with an athletic build from years of sports and weight training, and the charismatic teen certainly never had a problem with the ladies.
"Hey, Mom," he smiled back.
Sarah fired up the coffee machine dressed in a black pencil skirt--which ran just past her knees--and a white button-up blouse. A pair of short black heels completed her stylish outfit. She normally missed both her son and husband in the mornings. Mike and Jack both left by seven o'clock, while she didn't need to be at work until eight-thirty.
But it was a different story one Monday a month. She would wake up early to drop her husband off at the airport before heading to work, and today was one of those Mondays. The timing couldn't have been better either. She could use a week apart from Jack. She was extremely agitated at the moment, and last night's conversation annoyed her more and more as she replayed it in her head.
Who the hell was he to criticize what she did for a living? She was a working mother who ran a household pretty much by herself. The only other person who contributed was Mike. Her son would handle the yard work while she kept the house clean and prepared the meals. Come to think of it, Jack didn't really do anything other than work.
"What are you doing up?"
Her head snapped around at the sound of her husband's voice. "Morning, Jack."
"What are you doing up?" he repeated, dressed in his sharp black business attire. "I told you that I don't need a ride."
She looked at him curiously. "When did you tell me that?"
"Last night," he said. "The company is sending drivers from now on. I told you this."
"No, you didn't," she said.
"Yeah, I did," he argued. "Your head is all over the place lately."
Sarah tried her best to remember. Did he tell her that he didn't need a ride? She honestly couldn't recall, but maybe he did? And, yeah, her head was definitely all over the place lately. In fact, it'd been all over the place for the past two and a half years. She desperately needed some good dick in her life.
He shuffled over to the coffee machine and swooped in to fill his cup. His phone buzzed in his pocket which caused him to pull it out and read the alert.
"The driver's here so I have to get going," he announced. He moved in front of Mike to capture his attention. "You know the drill, Mike. You call me if there are any problems, and don't do anything stupid until I get home."
Mike rolled his eyes as he waited for Dad to finish his speech. He must've heard it a million times by this point. 'Call me if there are any problems, don't do anything stupid until I get home, and make sure that nothing happens to your mother.' It was the same exact quote every time he left.
"Alright, I'll see you two next week," he said before heading out the door.
"Bye," he directed at his dad, caught off-guard from what he'd just heard. He hurried to look over at Mom. "What was that?"
She poured herself a cup of coffee and joined her son at the kitchen table. "What was what?"
"That," he repeated. "What Dad said."
She stared at him, waiting for him to clarify himself.
"He always tells me to make sure that nothing happens to you," Mike pointed out. "He's never not said that...except for today."
Sarah shrugged her shoulders.