Summary

Sally, desperate to find a husband, practices to the best of her ability. Join her while she trains her body to be perfect for her future husband.

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Reader Comments

"Good read" - bikergroshen

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"Loved it! Everything you do well was on display." - kelliesfrog

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"This is a story with depth on several levels." - Fofo_Xuxu

"Excellent writing." - yonian

Sally Practices for a Husband

I wake to a blast of noise. The alarm gets smashed to the floor but turns off. Confusing images of my possible future husband with another woman flicker behind my eyelids.

Late to bed, early to rise - my mantra for life. Effort, preparation, and patience messages adorn my walls.

I groan. My legs try to rebel and keep me in bed, but my brain pushes, and they reluctantly respond. I throw the heap of yesterday’s clothes into the hallway for laundry, as I choose duty over the bed again.

Today will bloom with the sun, and I will glow with energy to do everything that needs doing.

My baby blue bed calls me, promising comfort and warmth, but instead, I rip the sheets off for washing and neatly fold up the comforter.

I can do this. Monday's dawn this way. I hope the rest of the week won’t copy Monday.

My reflection informs me I have not had enough sleep. I can easily hide the dreaded black bags with an artful foundation on my cocoa skin.

A quick dust and a short clean before the washroom demands my time. Cold, building to warm, water washes the last vestiges of sleep from my body. White noise holds me and pushes the world away. Dead skin gets violently rubbed off, and burning water ignites my tingling nerves. Skin cream glides over and soothes my angry skin, stopping the revolt it threatens. My body doesn’t understand that staying young and beautiful must start now.

I want the water to hold me forever, but the day demands my attention. At eighteen, my morning routine takes too long without bowing to my body's wishes. A further inspection of my complexion reveals a slight blemish on my lower right cheek. A blend of foundation works its magic and returns my face to perfection before the next step.

Do I put pajamas back on, only wear my panties, or devolve into naked barbarism? I choose the middle ground, and the ball of silk material gets added to the hallway pile for washing - bed sheets and pajamas together again.

My large breasts tug against gravity for not wearing a bra, with threats of ugly stretch marks; however, the cool air grows my nipples, which helps my body stay awake. I will wear a bra in the future, but not now, even if my breasts sway too much. They need to understand and refrain from complaining.

A primitive part wants nudity, but the sensible side doesn’t like leakage running down my leg.

The black bush between my legs tickles me as I pull my panties up. Worth shaving? Some websites claim guys like a smooth, or semi-shaved, pussy, while others - natural. Natural hides my large, blood-engorged lips, a popular feature in online videos. I can shave if my husband wants. It’ll take too long to regrow, so I’ll keep my razor to my legs and armpits. I can’t miss out on the perfect husband  because he wants hair down there.

Mom and Dad’s goodbye call startles me, “Bye.”

The door bang echoes up the stairs.

They love each other enough to carpool, so many other parents divorce or live separate lives together. Mom’s so lucky to have Dad. I hope God has someone like Dad for me.

 

The clock shows 5:30 a.m. My morning health routine takes so long now. Maybe I have an illness, I had less energy yesterday, or I need to stop my complaints, toughen up, and enjoy what I have.

Vitamin D, Iron, Calcium, Fish Oil, and Elderberry Juice all help increase my immune system, hopefully enough to crush this cold or flu or whatever this is.

The kitchen gets wiped, the living room vacuumed, the cat fed, the plants watered, and the laundry started before I get my time. Yoga keeps my body limber. The large mirror analyzes my posture and form. I can select the best positions and poses to maximize my best features.

First, the classic toe touch, my best pose; I position my heels one and a half feet apart, hips high and slightly pushed back, arms loose, and hands resting on the floor. The mirror tells me to lean a bit more forward, bringing my ass higher. My wide hips draw the gaze to my panties that pull into my ass and cunt crack. My breasts complain of a lack of support in this position, hanging down, almost to my chin, brown nipples pointing at my future husband. Soon, I remind them. Soon, someone will hold and caress them.