Her greatest need is to be needed.

Her second greatest need is to be fucked.

Tonight, with her open invitation of small bed-sprawled brown nakedness, she has communicated that need very forcefully to her husband who now, with even greater force is pounding her into the mattress, her short legs wrapped around his broad back, her almost caricaturishly beautiful face glowing even more than usual as she stares up at him with big round eyes, remembering all the men from work who needed her this evening, the men who invited her at the last minute to cook for them at their party because they were hungry and could not eat without her - her cooking, their eating, their raw need satisfied, satisfying her as she sprawled among them, her shoes off, her face shining, watching them happily consume what she prepared.

But she knows at some fundamental unspoken level that this act was a ritual substitute for a greater need, for their shared appreciation, love, and lust for her, a symbolic placeholder for fucking her, a physical privilege which she is, as yet, too young and too traditional to allow anyone but her husband (looming over her, filling her, needing her, consumed with lust) and the fucking he is giving her is, for her, though she chastises herself even as she thrills at her own mental daring, also a symbolic placeholder for the as-she-sprawled-among-them group fuck for which everyone, yes everyone, was yearning.