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"Sadie! Take my hand." You lean over the railing, wrapped in the flimsy silk nighty. She takes it and hauls herself over the railing, her long legs flashing.

It has been a month since you have seen her, and the desire long unsatisfied flares at the sight of her. The rifle around her shoulder gleams in the streetlight, and her face is made severe under the brim of her hat.

"Christ." She hisses as she smooths her rumpled coat. A few strands from her plait have come loose, and they hang around her face. "Does it gotta be so high?"

"Shh. Someone will hear you. Delilah has ears like a bat."

"Where's your husband?" She says, raising her brows.

"Away. Business in Rhodes," you say quietly. "He won't be back for weeks. Delilah's staying downstairs till he's back."

Delilah is the aged housekeeper your husband has employed to keep things running smoothly and to keep an eye on you. Sadie stands in the low light of your bedroom; the open window behind her frames her in the glow of the streetlight. She removes her hat, and her face is revealed to you. The smooth, freckled curve of her cheek and the upturned nose. You move to help her out of her coat, and she waves you away, pressing her mouth to yours instead. She sighs into your mouth as you fist the lapels of her coat; you pull it off her shoulders as she removes her rifle, stowing it against the windowsill. The nightgown you wear is thin, and the draught from the window makes them harden. Wasting no time, she slips a rough palm into the neckline and cups the full breast.

"Mmph. They're sore. Getting my blood soon."

Caressing the swell, she kisses you again, pulling the forked pin from your hair so it spills over your neck and shoulders. Carefully, she pushes it back and kisses your neck, making you arch up into her.

Sadie scoops your breast out of your gown. Her fingers are rough, and you groan as she bends her head to suck the nipple into her mouth. It's wet and hot. Her teeth graze along the peaking bud, and you pull at her braid.

"Gentle." You say, and she softens her pink mouth. She releases it from the nipple and blows cool air onto the wet tip. You shiver.

"Sorry." She says a little sheepishly. "Missed this."

Missed this. Not missed you.

"Sadie." You say softly. "I'm already so wet for you." You take her hand, hitching up your nightgown with the other, and pull her to cup your cunt. A low whistle hums in her throat. She rubs her fingers into the heat of it, smearing fluid along the seam. Gripping her wrist, you urge her to speed up her fingers.

"You're a sweet thing." She says, mockingly, resisting a little. "I ain't even been gone a month."

"He doesn't—he doesn't even touch me." You say, leaning forward, into her mouth. "He doesn't make me come."

"Aw. Poor thing." A smug grin curves at her mouth, and she licks her lips like a predator.

"I thought about you the whole month." You implore, "Touched myself but—"

"But what?"

"I needed you."

Sadie presses the heel of her palm against your heat slowly, and two of her fingers tease the entrance.

"Please." You are whining now, humping at her fingers pathetically. She withdraws her hand, and your knees tremble.

"Tch." The noise is soft. "How 'bout you show me first?"

"Show you?" You press your face to her throat, your breasts smushed up against her, and she smells like sweat.

"Show me what you do when I'm ain't around to make you come."

Sadie steps back from you and pulls up the armchair you had tucked next to the window to read on. She angles her head at your bed. Still made. Sitting in the chair, she unbuttons her vest and sheds her weapons and leather gear. They lie in a heap at her feet. You sit on the edge of the bed, one of your breasts hanging out of the gown.

"Touch yourself." She says, her voice cool. You wonder if she uses this voice when she chases down her bounties. "And then, maybe I'll let you eat my pussy."

"Sadie. Don't play games; it's been so long."

"I know it has." She says, her voice brimming with smug laughter. "That's why I wanna enjoy it."

You exhale. Try to relax. Drawing a hand up, you cup your breast, and you massage the sore globe. Scooping the other breast out of the gown, you rub them in tandem, playing with the tips. Your cycle must be close; it's so sensitive that you mewl softly.

She leans back in the chair, her eyes heavy-lidded. Slowly, you lift your night gown up your legs. You spread your thighs apart. Your cunt is already soaking, leaking shiny slick. Her eyes go dark.

"Every night. "You begin. "Every night, I would think of you—touching me."

Taking two fingers, you circle the swollen bud in the cleft of your cunt. It pulses painfully.  You ease the whole finger in now and cry out.

"Is that so?" She cocks her head. You slip the tip of your finger inside yourself, and your thighs clench. You add a second finger, rubbing that spot inside of you desperately. Only she can reach it, though.

"I think about you—putting your fingers inside me." You gasp, "And rubbing my little cunt."  In the low lamplight, you see her hand slip inside her collar to cup her own breast. You open your knees, spreading them apart so she can see the way your cunt clenches. She pulls at the fastenings of her breeches and untucks her shirt. She hisses, and her hand disappears into her breeches.

“Dirty word for a spoiled little wife." She rasps, but you can hear her own desire seeping into her voice, her head lolls in the armchair, and her hips buck into her hand. "Put another one in."

"It won't fit." A pathetic moan slips past your lips.

"It will." She says firmly. "Spit on your hand."

You obey her.

"Go slow." She grunts a little as her wrist works faster to rub herself inside her breeches. A dark spot is beginning to show on them. "Be gentle with her."

Slowly, you slick the entrance with your spit and then ease the third finger in. The pressure building in your belly pulls.

"Oh. Sadie." You bite your lip. "It's sensitive. You do it; you're better at it."

"Quit beggin' and spread 'em wider."

"Sadie. Sadie, I think I'm going to—"

"Not yet." She grits out. "I waited too long."

"Please. Please, I'll do anything." You whine. Clenching, you bury your fingers deeper inside yourself.

"Take 'em out." She says firmly. You do. "Now, suck them."

Tasting your own salty slick, you suck at your fingers. She beckons you forward with a finger. Slipping off the bed, you practically crawl over to her, still dressed in your flimsy gown. Her breeches are still on, but her shirt is rucked up and a sliver of tanned skin peeks through.

Lifting her slim hips, she kicks off her breeches. You are already kneeling at her feet. Her cunt is furred with soft, brown hair. Your mouth waters. Nuzzling at her, you breathe in the musk of a long day's work. Her fingers come into your hair, caressing it. She lifts your chin, her thumb slipping into your mouth; you nip at it.

"Look at you." She grins, her shirt is mostly undone, and the curves of her breasts are just visible. "What would all those decent folk say? Pretty society lady like you, lookin' like a little whore."

"Please let me." You beg, nuzzling at the soft thatch between her legs.

"Let you what?" She mocks, cocking her head.

"Let me kiss your pussy," you whisper.

"Pussy?" Nah. Use the word you were usin' before."

You flush.

"C'mon." She strokes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears. "You was all bold a few minutes ago."

"Cunt." You whisper. "Let me kiss your cunt."

"Sure, angel. Since you're so pretty."

You poke your tongue out and use your hand to part her in the centre. Aha. You think, there it is, she wants you just as much as you want her. Her cunt is puffy, swollen, red, and shiny with slick. You lick the pulsing bud in the middle, and her fingers tighten in your hair. Taking it in your mouth, you suck it hard, the way you know she likes. Her hips buck, and she presses your face down. The musky, salty scent of her fills your nostrils and your mouth. You lick harder, just to feel her fist in your hair and grind her cunt into your mouth.

"Fuck." She groans, "That's good. You're gettin' good at this."

Fluttering your lashes at her, you pause and look up.

"Am I, Sadie?"

"Yeah, baby. You are." You lick another stripe down her centre again. "Got a real sweet mouth."

Your pussy is pulsing with need at the feeling of her cunt against your face and the salty taste of her arousal. Reaching down, you squeeze your breasts together—for her benefit. She groans at the sight, her hand coming up to tweak her own nipple. She cries out and throws her head back at the friction, and you feel her cunt clench around your tongue; you lick more furiously. Sadie comes on your mouth with a rough exhale and presses your face into her slick folds; you lick all her wet up eagerly.

"Sadie?" You mumble, muffled in her soft, wet cunt.

"Yeah, honey?"

"Can I touch your—can I touch these too?" You lift your head and lick your lips, angling your head towards her breasts.

"My tits?" She says, and undoes the last button on her shirt. It falls open, revealing round, high breasts; the nipples are dark pink and so hard. Sweat glistens between them. "Ask properly."

"Can I touch your tits?" you beg, salivating a little at the sight of those freckled mounds.

"'Course you can. Come here."

Leaning up, you lick at the soft golden seam of hair below her belly button. It tastes of her pussy; she must have smeared all her wet up her belly. Then you kiss the tensed muscles of her abdomen, tanned from all those weeks bathing in the creek. Then, finally, you crawl up her, settling in her lap on those muscular thighs. You take one hard nipple in your mouth and suck hard. She arches into your mouth a little, stroking your hair. Your cunt finds friction against her thigh, and you hump against it, mouth attached to her nipple. You bend your head to her other breast, sucking as much into your mouth as will go. The fat of her breasts is making your cheek bulge.

"Little housewife like you. Who knew you was so needy? She muses.

Burying your face between her breasts and licking at the sweat on her sternum, you grind your aching pussy against her leg. She bounces it erratically, speeding up as you get closer and slowing down as you start to beg her. She stills completely, then.

"Sadie—please let me come." Mindlessly, you rub yourself harder, burying your face in her neck. "I've been so good."

She stills you, her hands clamping down on your jerking hips, and then tips your head up to look at her. Swiping the spit and salty arousal off your lips, she considers your request. For a moment, you think she might deny you. She likes to do that. Deny you and leave you aching in your bed, your fingers in your sore pussy trying desperately to come without her.

"Yeah. You been good," she says slowly, licking her lips. "Lie down on the bed."

You do, stripping off your sweat-soaked nightgown.

Sadie stands above you, spreads your legs to peer at your cunt. Her braid has come mostly loose, strands of hair framing her face. She's naked, and a scar runs down her side; you reach to touch it, and she catches your hand before you can. Her shoulders are square as she braces a knee on the bed and slowly presses her cunt to yours.

"Ah—Sadie." The feeling of her pussy, pressed against yours, sliding against you, is so electrifying. Your leg kicks out, and she steadies it with her strong hand, her nails digging into your thigh. "More."

"You're greedy." She says, the muscles in her stomach rippling as she pinches your swollen nub of your clit. "So desperate, look at all that mess."

"I missed you so much." You wail, covering your hot face with a hand. One of your tits swings as you turn your head to the cool fabric of the duvet. She slaps it lightly; it stings. "Didn't know—ah—when you'd come back."

"Got you a gift too." She says casually, as if her cunt isn't grinding against yours.

"A present?" Your voice is breathy with pleasure.

"Yeah." She says smugly, pushing your thigh back a little. "A chain. It's going to look so pretty between these." Sadie reaches up to squeeze a reddened, swollen breast in her hand, soothing the sting from earlier.

You come hard, her name on your lips and your cunt releasing a humiliating little spurt of liquid. She dips her fingers into it and licks them clean.

Afterwards, you lie cocooned in your massive, plush bed. Sadie props herself against your fat, stuffed throw pillows, cigarette dangling between her lips. You lie cradled against her breast; she absently strokes your back with her deft fingers. Kissing the smattering of freckles at the swell, you rest your chin on it, looking up at her.

Suspending the cigarette in two fingers, she holds it to your mouth for a second, only letting you take in a little drag. She laughs when you splutter, her eyes creased at the edges. The turquoise silk of your duvet contrasts with her skin, still glowing with sweat.

"Sadie," you say, a little wheedling. "Where's my present?"

She puts out the cigarette on your ash tray on the nightstand and leans over it to fumble in her satchel. She finds it and closes it in her palm so you cannot see it.

"Turn around."

You sit up, turning away from her. She kisses the knobs of your spine as the cool weight of the necklace rests just between your breasts. It's a teardrop-shaped red stone, heavy against your sternum.

"Pretty." She says as you turn towards her. You bat your eyes at her a little; she adjusts it so it sits centered on your chest. Her callouses catch on the skin there. "It's a goodbye present."

"What?" Your heart sinks suddenly, a sharp pain going through it.

"I'm leavin' here." She yawns, stretching. "Won't be back for a while. Or at all."

"You're leaving me?" you say, voice dangerously tremulous.

"Not you specifically." She scoffs, "This place."

"Take me with you," you say suddenly. "I don't love him."

"I ain't be doin' that." She says, finally. "And I won't be hearin' more on it."

"But Sadie, I—"

"Shh." She says, and then to your surprise, cradles your face in her hands. "You're a sweet girl. But it ain't a life for you. Yeah?"

You nod silently, biting your lip so you do not sob.

"Smart girl." She says approvingly. "C'mere. Lie down, and I'll make you feel better."