Now when he fucked her, it was just that. He crawled on top, complaining and bitching, rammed his cock into her, and two minutes later it was over. He'd squirt a dribble of semen up her tubes and she'd lay beneath him, biting her lips, unsatisfied as any half-fucked woman could ever be. Was the pressure making him impotent? Was that it? And was her own pressure on him only making it worse? She didn't know. But he wouldn't discuss it, right or wrong. He'd only make excuses and go out the door without a backward glance while she watched, wondering where the happiness had all gone. She could bring herself to a kind of release, but one that was so inadequate compared to what she used to share with her husband, humping deliriously on a creaking bed, their bodies full of love and excitement, his cock stiff and sweet and ferocious inside her gulping cunt…

Her cunt. It ached now, really ached. It needed to be loved and fucked. The old way. The sweet way. The best way. Needed it more than ever. Yes, Joanne decided, sliding a hand down her belly, it really was true. Women didn't get older. They got better.

She soaped her bush and her pussy, working the suds into her cuntal gap, her finger rubbing in and out, back and forth, until it brushed the risen nub of her clitoris. She was in a constant state of horniness, made all the worse by the inadequate love she got from her man. "Whew!" She gasped in a breathless voice, fingering her love button. "Do it again!" And she did, gleefully, swaying on her feet as she stroked and fondled herself.