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We brushed our teeth together, we got our pyjamas on together, we read our stories together, we got into bed together. It was as it was every evening; we did everything together. So I lay there, next to my beautiful wife, who was so vibrant and warm, but I felt cold inside. I felt loved, but not desired; cared-for but not satisfied. There was a piece missing, you see. For the last few months, one critical piece of my wife had slipped away quietly without any fanfare or announcement.
I wanted her body.
But more than that, I wanted her to want mine.
The last few times we’d made love it was cold, empty and devoid of passion. I’d actually describe them more as ‘quick fucks’ rather than lovemaking. I feel love from her right up until I want her body. I’d even begun to ask myself: “Can I survive on a diet of quick fucks alone, or do I need more?”
I rolled next to her, her body close to mine. We both lay on our sides, holding one another close. She’d taken my hand and pulled it over her like a blanket, bringing my fingers up to her chin. She kissed my hand gently as she begun to drift off.
I freed my hand from her grip and used it to begin touching her body, rubbing her arm gently, then her side, then her stomach. I wanted feedback, some indication that she was comfortable going further, but her body remained still.
I felt along her legs, down to her tucked knees, over the side to her front. Still no movement, still no feedback.
I was growing hard; I know she could feel it pressed against her rear, but she didn’t move a muscle. I began to get disheartened, but perhaps she was just comfortably enjoying my touch, so I moved my hand up her night shirt, feeling her warm skin on mine, until I gently cupped her naked breast.
“Off,” she said, loudly, eyes still determined to stay closed.
“You don’t want this?”
“We didn’t discuss this,” she said, “and you know I haven’t shaved or anything.”
“None of that matters to me,” I whispered, retrieving my hand from her shirt.
“It does to me,” she said.
I reluctantly rolled over for a few moments, attempting in vain to calm myself down.
I sat up, and looked at the hill in the thick duvet made by my untouched erection, I exhaled deeply, loud enough for her to hear.
I retrieved my phone and visited PornHub, logged in, and chose a video. The video showed a married husband and wife who desired each other so much that they were willing to risk being caught by their maid. I kept the sound low, and began to massage my aching cock as the action began.
My wife tossed and turned next to me, but I was focused on watching the actress on her knees, passionately playing with her co-star’s erection with her lips and tongue. He moaned and she did too.
“Do you fuckin’ have to do that next to me?” my wife said.
“Well, I’d much prefer you do it, but if you’re not going to, I have to do it myself,” I admit I was a little harsh with my retort.
“Can’t you go to your office or somewhere?”
I could feel myself getting angrier at her. For months she’d made no effort to satisfy me, and yet the moment I try and satisfy myself, she has a problem with it. I gritted my teeth.
“Sure, I can go elsewhere, shall I?” I left a lingering implication on my words, and her eyes shot open, hearing my intent, and her lips tightened.
I continued, “maybe I should go elsewhere and find someone who actually wants to have sex with their husband. I’m certain there’s thousands of women even in this city who are actually willing to look like they enjoy sex with the person they supposedly love more than anything in the world.”
She lay next to me, and began to well up with tears, but my anger was in full swing without any breaks.
“I mean, why would you want to fuck me? Your loving husband who does everything in his power to give you what you want, but getting absolutely fucking nothing in return. Me? How dare I want some love, or passion? You think because I’m a man that I actually never need to feel desired? Well you’re seriously fucking wrong, if you think that.”
I threw off the covers, and placed my feet in my slippers by the side of my bed. Then stood, throwing the duvet back over her.
I looked at her in the scant light cast by my still progressing porn video, and I could see tears running down her face, and she’d curled up into the foetal position.
Her upset unfazed me; perhaps it was adrenaline, or perhaps I’d reached the end of my tether. “I am not staying in a sexless marriage.”
I slammed the bedroom door as I made my way to the guest room across the hall. I could hear her break down into full sobs behind me.
My cock had become flaccid, and the energy had left my body. I suddenly became aware of the gentle panting of the porn actors playing through my phone’s speaker. I glanced at the video, and there was nothing left in my body to appreciate the love and passion between the actors.
I just wanted to sleep.
–
The following fulya escort days were tense. She tried to initiate sex with me twice, but before I could allow myself to feel the desire for her rising, I banished myself to the guest room. I couldn’t even make eye contact with her in the days. We’d return home from our offices and I’d either slip out to a bar, or lock myself in the basement with my gaming console.
We brushed our teeth separately, we got our pyjamas on separately, we read our stories separately, we got into different beds for the evening. I hadn’t seen her all evening, but I could hear her milling around upstairs, opening and closing drawers.
My mood was low, lower than I can remember. I spent much of my evening on my computer downstairs, looking up the numbers of local divorce lawyers. I didn’t want a divorce. I just wanted her to love me like I needed to be loved.
When I retired to bed, I did so earlier than her; she was still in the bathroom. I relished the silence that the door afforded me as it clicked shut.
I sat upon the edge of the bed, and I looked at myself in the full length mirrored cabinet doors. I didn’t recognise my face. It was worn and sad, and I don’t think I’d ever seen myself that way. I don’t take photographs when I’m upset, nor do I have a habit of looking at myself in the mirror when sad either, so I don’t think I’d ever actually seen my face with that much sadness weighing upon me.
I could hear the floorboards outside the guest room flex. She was outside.
An envelope slid under the door, and I looked at it quizzically.
From where I’d sat upon the bed, I could reach down and grab it at a stretch. I held it up, and it had my name written on it in her handwriting. The floorboards creaked some more as I heard her return to our master bedroom.
I carefully unsealed the envelope, and slid out a small folded letter.
“I’m sorry,” the letter started. “I have spent the past few days trying to find the right words to say how I feel, but nothing would come to me. I felt paralyzed by the fear of losing you.”
I gulped as I took in the words. “Lately I’ve neglected you. I’ve become complacent in our marriage. I’d stopped trying. I thought I didn’t need to impress you, because we’re already married, and I now see the problem with that line of thinking. I never wanted you to feel undesired. I never wanted you to think that I didn’t love you, and I feel sick at the idea of losing you.”
I rubbed at my chin, attempting to process my fluctuating emotions.
“I won’t allow our marriage to end,” she’d written. I could see how the paper had become more ridged at that sentence as if she was pushing harder with the pen.
“I have spent the last few days exploring and understanding my relationship with sex. I fear I may have become influenced by social media creators who implore women to be more than just the sex they offer. Every single one has now been unfollowed. I have read a book called ‘Dead Bedrooms’ by Dr Rashida Cole which discusses the role of sex in a relationship. I now fully appreciate your need for it, and I am also awakening my own need for it – one that I have spent years denying.”
I gritted my teeth. I had heard some of the videos she’d watched on Instagram and TikTok in passing but hadn’t made the connection between their ill advised sermons and my wife’s own reluctance to be intimate. She’s unfollowed them now, but is this too little too late?
There was a final paragraph, and some of the words were stained with splashes, “I cannot lose you. So this is my Hail Mary pass at saving our marriage, this is my attempt at showing you how much you mean to me. If you wish to fix our marriage, come to the bedroom. I’ll wait for you.”
I considered her proposal. I wasn’t sure I felt like I could give her what she wanted tonight, I’m not sure my head could handle the emotional rollercoaster of being denied again.
She said she wanted to try. I thought hard for a moment. I didn’t want to lose her, and she didn’t want to go – so why was I so reluctant to go across the hall? My heart ached.
I exhaled long and hard. If she wanted to try, the least I could do would be to hear her out. So I looked at myself once more in the mirror and tried to ‘fix’ my expression. Then, I opened the guest room door and stepped out into the hall.
–
As the bedroom door crept open, I could see the low flickering lights of candles creating shadowy forms upon the walls. I stepped in and looked towards the bed.
My wife sat on the bed; her hair was perfect, she wore a similar style of makeup that she’d experimented with on our honeymoon, and upon her body she’d adorned herself in the sexiest lingerie I’d ever seen on her. When had she purchased them?
She smiled at me, raising her eyebrows slightly. “I was worried you weren’t coming,” she said.
“Sorry,” I said, “slow reader.”
She smirked.
“You didn’t have to go through all this effort,” I said.
“I antep escort did,” she replied flatly, “for me, and for you. I need to show you that you’re desired and I needed to convince myself that I’m capable of being who you need me to be.”
“You’ve always been capable; your ability to make me feel wanted has never left, but I felt like it was a side of yourself that you’d stopped showing me.”
“Let’s not talk about this now,” she said, lifting herself up onto her knees so she was eye level with me. “We can talk as much as we want later, but now, I’ve got something I want to show you.”
She walked on her knees across the mattress to meet me at the bottom of the bed, and placed one hand gently on my shoulder as she leaned in for a kiss.
It was the first kiss in a long while where I’d felt as if she actually wanted to kiss me. For a while there had been this reluctance I could discern in her movements, but tonight this reluctance was gone.
The letter, the emotional plea, and the promise of change aside; this kiss was the thing that finally convinced me that she wanted me to stay.
I felt her tongue enter my mouth, and she kissed with such a fervour that I worried our teeth might clash – they never did. The kiss was strong and passionate but controlled by her entirely.
I felt a movement within my shorts as blood began to fill my penis. Without breaking the kiss she began to unbutton my shirt, throwing it off my shoulders.
“Tonight,” she said as she pulled back from me, “I’m going to satisfy your every desire.”
My eyebrows raised reflexively, and she noticed my doubt.
“You’ve a right to doubt me,” she said. “But tonight is where I prove you wrong. You can use me however you want, take me as rough as you want, and I will bend to your every request.”
Then she pulled down my pyjama trousers revealing my growing length.
“Oh my,” she said theatrically, “seems like you agree to this. I guess I’d better get to work.”
I still stood at the foot of the bed, and she began to kiss down my body, arching her back as she neared my cock. From my angle I could admire her beautiful figure and perfectly shaped ass. I reached down and felt along the black lace strap of her bra and then along her spine to her rear as she kissed around my waistband and legs. I leaned over slightly and then wet my finger with my tongue before gently moving it beneath the thin G-string that ran down the centre of her heart-shaped ass. I placed the tip of my finger around her hole and moved it around the puckered exit, drawing moans from my wife.
She was letting me touch parts of her that she’d never allowed me to before, and my heart began to beat faster.
I felt the head of my member enter her mouth and she continued to moan, convincing me wholeheartedly of her desperation to taste my throbbing cock. I continued to play with her tight butthole as she sucked
“Mmmm, you naughty boy,” she moaned between sucks. “There’ll be time for all of that, don’t worry. Just let me taste your cock.”
I slowly removed my hand from her exit and stood straight, looking down at her beautiful lips upon my shaft. She took me deep, and my eyes rolled to the sky by instinct. The head of my cock was against the back of her throat, I could feel it, and then she began to swallow. The motion of her muscles at the back of her throat perfectly messaged my glans, leaving me gasping. Her gag reflex, the very thing that prevented this kind of sucking had all but left. She slid my cock back out, and looked up at me, her eyes glassy from the strain at the back of her throat, her lips hanging open. Then she went back down and repeated the motion.
My cock felt at home within her mouth, it was the perfect place for it to stay, and despite me knowing of the impossibility of it staying within her forever, she made me believe that it could happen. This stunning devotion to my pleasure, combined with my insatiable need to see her scream atop my cock was the ingredient we were painfully lacking in our marriage. I wanted this to remain forever, this feeling deep within me – her carnal desire for me and mine for her, entwined forever.
I groaned as her swallowing motion massaged the head of my cock, and she, spurred on by my groans began to make some noises herself.
She was a quiet lover, my wife. Sometimes I needed the feedback of knowing that what I was doing was right for her but she rarely gave it. Tonight however, she was desperate to show me how much she wanted to change and her noises gave me the perfect indication that I was looking for.
Her tongue was pressed against my shaft as her throat worked upon me. I felt it stretch out and meet the base of my meat, before she slid it back up the underside right back up into her mouth. The external stimulation atop the throat stimulation caused me to throw my head to the sky and exhale deeply to prevent myself from blowing early.
Finally, she slid her lips back and looked up at me with gaziemir escort those beautiful doe eyes, all glassy and filled with tears from her tonsil gymnastics upon my cock. I don’t know where she learned that maneuver but I absolutely approve of her using it on me.
“Not going to cum for me already are you?”
I shook my head, but she wanted me to get close so her mouth opened once more and she returned me to the back of her throat. I wasn’t sure could hold myself together, my heart pounded, and my breathing became quicker. Just as I danced on the edge of orgasm, she pulled back.
She held my cock by the base of my shaft, tightly, edging me, preventing me from dropped over the edge into a climax. As the muscles in my cock contracted, a small glistening drip of precum collected just at the apex of my glans.
She looked up at me, “is that for me?”
She still gripped my cock tightly, and I could feel the pressure building up within me, but the urge to ejaculate had begun to ebb away. She took her finger, and sampled the precum just before it dripped down onto the bed sheets, and placed it within her mouth.
“Mmmmm…. was that good for you, Daddy?”
I went weak at the knees at her calling me that, and she senses my weakness and pulled me to the bed alongside her.
“I’m so wet,” she moaned. “Please can I have your cock now?”
The dirty talk was new, and she’s successfully convinced me that I was now fucking a new version of my wife. Wife 2.0.
She got onto all fours, presenting herself to me, and reached back pulling her panties out of the way of her glistening pink pussy.
“Please fill me with your cock, Daddy.”
I placed my knees between hers, then opened my legs pushing hers further apart. She gasped as her pelvis lowered to the perfect height for insertion.
Controlling the tip of my penis, I touched it against her wetness and as if my cock were a paintbrush, I painted her juices all around her hole, giving my cock itself a beautiful shiny coat. As I did this, she moaned, feeling every moment of my throbbing cock’s movements across her folds.
Then, I inserted.
Slowly.
I took my time with this; I wanted her to feel every inch of my desperately hard cock, I wanted her to feel as if my cock wouldn’t stop going in, as if I was filling her almost completely. She appreciated this by gyrating her hips as I slid deeper, moaning loudly for me. I pressed my pelvis into her beautiful round ass, pushing my cock in just that little bit deeper than she expected.
Her arms fell to the mattress, dropping her chest onto the bed, placing her face into her pillow. I could hear her muffled moans as I pressed myself into her.
Then I slid backwards, bringing my entire length back out of her; she took a deep in-breath that lasted the duration of my retreat.
“Oh my god, it’s so big, I love how it fills me,” she said. “Please can I have some more?”
I obliged, pushing myself back within her hot wet pussy. I felt her internal topography pushing back against me due to her angle on the bed, so I grasped a fist full of her hair and pulled her back up onto her hands and knees as I pushed in deeper.
She moaned loudly, “pull harder, Daddy.”
I kept my fingers intertwined with her hair as I thrusted into her, pulling her body towards me by her hair whilst thrusting her forwards with my cock.
We’d never been rough with one another before. Our sex life prior to the drought was vanilla – it was very enjoyable for us both, but it was undoubtedly vanilla. This roughness was welcome, and her reaction let me know how much she appreciated it too.
I began to push and pull myself in and out of her beautiful wet pussy. Seeing her writhe with my movements always turned me on so much. With my other hand, I slapped her hard across the ass, leaving a beautifully defined red handmark on her skin.
“Harder, Daddy,” she cried as I slapped her ass again.
With one swift movement, I unclipped her lacy bra. And threw it to the side, then, by her hair, I lifted her up and back so her body was pulled against me. Then I removed my hand from her hair and brought it around her front, placing it gently upon her throat. I didn’t want to choke her, just give her the impression that my hand was there, allowing her to experience the thrill of it without the danger – after all, this was new to both of us and I didn’t know how much pressure was safe to use during sex.
With my other hand, I also wrapped it around her front, but I left it lie across her breasts where I began to pinch her nipple. With each modicum of added pressure to her sensitive nipples, she groaned and rotated her hips around to let me know how much she enjoyed it.
“You like being used, baby?” I asked.
“Use me however you please,” she said breathily, “I’m your little fuckdoll and you can use me however you want.”
I continued thrusting whilst pinching her nipples some more, she cried out as she began to experience euphoria, and her body began to shake. She fell forward, collapsed onto the bed, and her pussy began to leak as she groaned in ecstasy.
“I’m cumming,” she cried as she crossed over the line and entered her climax, her pussy sprayed her juices onto the bedsheets.
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