Was it her fault, as Sid so darkly intimated? She knew that coming from a conventional, wealthy family she was a little inhibited. Strange that the very quality her mother had labeled "sophistication" should bring a barrage of expletives from her husband! "Up tight, bitch!" he'd called her one night when she couldn't do that disgusting thing in bed with him. But if Sid was so patient with the students, couldn't he try and help his wife, be patient with her and carry her out of the repression of a religion dominated way of life? But no…

Sid was too selfish, too caught up in his teaching and studies to take time and find out what his wife needed. Tears flowed down her face and all the misery of her unhappy existence unflowed from its pentup hiding place.

A memory came flickering back… a thought she tried to banish forever from her mind. An image of herself in Sid's apartment, under the surging poundings of her boy friend's penis! Wildly shaking her head, she tried to blot out the memory of her own premarital surrender, but her lewd words, screamed at the height of depraved passion, seemed to echo throughout the room.

"Fuck me… fuck me harder…"

She clasped her hands over her ears to shut out the lascivious memory. Where had she learned those words? She never used them, before that time or since, and felt a pang of distaste whenever she heard her husband use them.

Sanity returned to her troubled mind, and she lay back again, the tears drying on her cheeks. She felt cold and began to scoop up the soap bubbles. Idly, she smoothed them over her breasts, delighting in the way the frothy lather coated her creamy orbs. As she covered them with bubbles, she noticed how the nipples, a deep blush pink, stretched and awoke and the crinkled brown skin around them began to contract and squirm.