"Stop acting like a kid," he said impatiently. His wife's accusations unnerved him. "For Chrissake, I'm not running around. I'm trying to build us a future."

"Why don't you build something between my legs – like your cock for a change. Or does whoever you're fucking around with satisfy you enough that you don't want me?" Rage, jealousy, and passion were clouding her ability to reason.

"We'll talk tonight when you're calm. I'm not going to stand here and argue with you." He turned and left.

Grabbing the first thing she saw – a table lamp – she flung it at his retreating figure. "Damn you, you fucking bastard!"

The crashing lamp shattered against the wall, just missing Roger as he went through the doorway.

She rushed out of the bedroom and stood at the top of the stairs, glaring at his back. "Maybe I'll be getting fucked while you're out!" she shouted hysterically. "If I can't get it from you, I'll get it from someone else."

The front door closed and she began to cry. Her body stiffened, and giving full vent to her emotions, she stomped into the bedroom and flung herself on the bed.

Fists pounded a pillow. She cursed him under her breath over and over again.

"Bastard, bastard, bastard!" Her jealous rage wouldn't disappear, it only grew stronger.

The sound of her husband's car backing out the driveway roused her out of her delirium.

She flopped over on her back, determined to get some satisfaction.

With a loud sounding rip, she tore Roger's favorite nightie from her quaking body, her rage giving way to passion. Soft hands found solace in caressing her flesh. Roaming fingers kneaded frantically over her frustrated body.

"Christ! I'm so Goddamn hot!" Fingers sought and found her oozing cunt. She clawed her pussy mound, parting the puffy lips. Delving inside, warm juices coated her exploring fingers.

Her moans grew louder and her soft, rounded ass cheeks thumped the bed. Throwing her head back, she ground her pussy into her delving fingers. "Oh Christ, I gotta cum!"