The Beardy Shagger by UnderthinkThis
An annoying buzzing drilled its way into Sharon’s brain. Eye’s still firmly shut against the inevitable call of consciousness she flings her hand to the side, swatting at where memory says her bedside table should be. On the third attempt she grabs her phone and blindly swipes at the screen, miraculously managing to silence the alarm she didn’t remember setting.
She pulls the phone to her chest and immediately drifts back to sleep. Five minutes later the phone starts up again, only now it’s sitting on top of her left breast and the unexpected vibrations violently reverberating through the soft tissue jolts her awake. Through bleary eyes she looks at the phone and manages to turn the alarm off this time.
A dull throbbing behind her eyes reminds her that the second bottle of wine last night was definitely not the good idea it seemed at the time. As the phone screen starts to darken she notices the notification telling her she has new messages. Fuck. Who was she messaging? There were two possibilities. It was either Brian, or it was Lucy, about Brian. She cringed inwardly, she couldn’t face reading what she’d said last night, not yet.
A strong pressure in her bladder was making it clear she had been holding in a piss for far too long. She starts to shift her body weight towards the side of the bed and feels her hip hit something solid, peeling back the covers reveals her Hitachi Wand, she stares at it for a second puzzled, before a hazy recollection of crawling into bed last night, horny and frustrated bubbles to the surface, accompanied by the disappointment that it had inexplicably not worked.
No matter how many times she had flicked the dial between on and off her up to now trusty friend had refused to buzz into life. She pushes the device further down the bed and swings her legs over the side, her left foot touches down but as her right touches down a sharp pain makes her cry out.
She grabs at her foot and looking down sees an upturned plug, In a cruel twist of fate that only seems to happen in a hungover haze she had managed to put her foot directly on top of the only thing laying on an otherwise empty floor. Tracing the cord with her eyes she sees it snake up under the covers, well, guess that explains that little mystery, in her drunken state last night she hadn’t even plugged the fucking thing in.
She makes her way, with a slight limp, out of the bedroom into the hallway and towards the bathroom. She keeps her eyes fixed firmly forward as she passes the full length mirror on the wall. She doesn’t need to see her naked reflection, she knows what she will see and she doesn’t like it.
She is a fifty-five year old, heavy set woman with more wobbly bits than she cares to look at. She had always been a heavier girl in her youth, but youthful exuberance and the desire to try to be one of the skinny girls had kept things in check. As she got older she had decided that there was more to life than what society thought of her and she had been determined to enjoy it.
She stopped worrying about her figure, ate what she wanted, drank what she wanted and generally embraced the good things, and while she didn’t regret at all living that way, she also knew she could have done more to keep her weight down. When she looked in the mirror these days all she saw were big thighs, a round belly and a wobbly bum. Her body hadn’t even had the decency to lump some of the weight onto her boobs, they remained the modest C cup they had always been.
Focusing on each unsteady step she finds her way to the bathroom and sits heavily on the toilet. Feeling a welcome relief as her bladder empties, she finally lets her brain start to piece together the events of last night. It was fucking Brian’s fault. She’d met Lucy for a drink after work, in the pub in the small town where they both lived. As she took her first sip of her white wine Lucy had looked at her, one eyebrow raised.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Well Brian obviously, have you heard from him?”
“Ugh, do we have to?”
“Yes we have to, you’ve been moping around for two weeks now, three months of chatting and dates. All the while you were finally starting to seem like you might be ready to let someone in and now…..nothing?! not a word about him! You’re not looking at your phone and smiling like you were, no popping out for a quick call. What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know Lucy! That’s the annoying thing. He seemed so nice at first, we chatted easily and he didn’t come across as pervy like all the others.”
“Ha, online dating sites, you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and pervy”
Sharon looked quizzically at her friend, the quote completely lost on her. Lucy smiled and waved her on, knowing it was pointless to explain.
“Anyway, it all seemed to be going fine and then out of the blue he just sort of, changed”
“Changed?”
“Yeah, I dunno, we’d been chatting for weeks, met a couple of times and the last time we met up he was really pushy. Kept trying to get me to go into shops and try on clothes, it was weird. He was kinda insistent that he wanted to buy me something new. At first i thought it was kinda sweet, like maybe it was a lead in to going for a nice dinner, but he kept suggesting things that were too tight. Any time I looked at something he kept suggesting I try the smaller size. It was just weird, and when i didn’t go along with it he kinda got huffy. Suddenly he needed to be somewhere else and I’ve had barely any contact from him since. The odd “Hi, how’s things” but it’s always followed by requests for a picture and always a full body shot.”
She stopped talking, suddenly a little embarrassed. She hadn’t meant to spill out quite so much. Since trying online dating she’d found that it seemed the vast majority of men seemed to only want sex, and more, that they only wanted someone to fulfil the fantasies they were too afraid to seek out in their every day lives. So many opening messages that described, in badly written, misspelled, disturbing detail what they wanted to do to, on and with her belly. It was humiliating and soul destroying. She’d been about to give up entirely when she matched with Brian, he’d seemed different, at first.
Lucy, sensing her friend’s discomfort steered the conversation to other topics, though only after a parting shot about how Brian was clearly an insecure loser and she didn’t need him. She had got home that night, a little tipsy and annoyed and opened a bottle of wine. That had led to two and somewhere around a third into the second bottle she now remembered she had decided to let Brian know how she felt.
She finished up in the bathroom, washed her hands and face and with a determination to face it and get it over with, padded back to her bedroom to check her phone, see just how embarrassing she had been. She flopped onto the bed and fished her phone out from its new hiding place under the pillow. The message wasn’t from Brian, but she had messaged him last night, she’d told him she was done, he could go get his kicks from beating up someone else’s self esteem, ideally his own, she smiled to herself, that wasn’t bad. The following message, where she’d told him his unimpressive manhood might be a good place to start his self loathing, was maybe not her finest moment but fuck it he deserved it, She opened the message from Lucy.