He came to bed late, slipped in beside me and, rather than folding himself around me like, he pulled me to him, facing him. I buried my face in his neck, savoring the smell of him, wondering what was up. We don’t sleep this way, but I was willing to follow whatever was happening. I nuzzled his chin and chest, and snuggled in, and then he pulled away and lay on his back, his legs still wrapped in mine.
It’s been over two weeks since we had sex. We had an argument then, and when that happens, when something like that trips up our streak, we are usually derailed, and we both struggle to find our way back. During that two weeks, it’s not that I never wanted him. I did…but I have some weird and unexcusable hang up about asking for or initiating sex. It is one of my most detrimental faults when it comes to my marriage.
But, last night, I took what I felt was a subtle hint, and I reached my hand between us, finding his flaccid penis just beginning to harden in its loose skin. I took his balls in my palm and gently rolled them, and returned to his cock, softly running my fingers around it.
He put his hand around mine and said, “No.”
I froze, my brow furrowed in confusion.
“If you want that, you have to kiss me first,” he continued.
I relaxed a bit, and obliged, crawling up on top of him, my pussy and brests pressing against him. I kissed him softly, but he reached his hands into my hair and grabbed hold of it. He kissed me roughly, his tounge searching me, and the dam broke inside of me. I wanted him. I needed him inside of me. Maneuvering my pelvis, I sought the tip of his cock, lined it up with my clit, and began running it up and down my slit, pushing down each time it came into contact with my opening.
But, again, he said, “No.”
I can’t remember exactly what his words were at this point…something like if I wanted his dick I was going to have to pay for it with a spanking. But somehow it was all lost in translation, and he simplified his statements to, “Do you want my dick inside of you?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
But, instead, he rolled me over, turned the light on, spread my legs, and dove between them, devouring me and pinching my nipples at the same time, causing my body to arch and spasm, moans escaping me in rising levels of sound.
“I’m so close…but I just can’t seem to come…”
“Oh, really…?” He growled.
He sat up, and roughly shoved two fingers to the hilt into my wet pussy, the other two in my ass, without ceremony. It hurt…but it also felt amazing, as he pulled them out and thrust them in quickly, like a jackhammer, his knuckles banging against my pelvic bones. I cried out in pain, but I also came in waves, liquid soaking the sheets beneath me.
He pulled his hand away and wordlessly replaced it with his cock.
“What do you want?”
“I want your dick inside of me.”
“Then put your hands on the backs of your thighs and open them to me.”
I did as he ordered, and he plunged into me.
After I’d come again, he pulled out and rolled over — my que to scramble on top, which I did immediately, slipping the head in and slowly lowering myself down, grinding myself into him to be sure all of him was inside of me.
“Stop,” he said, “I want to see all of you…” He ran his hands over my breasts, and down my stomach.
He urged me to move slowly and deliberately.
“Do you want me?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Do you want my dick?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Then why don’t you ask for it? Why don’t you say…I want your dick in my mouth…in my pussy…in my ass? How often do you think I would say no?”
“Not often,” I whispered.
He explained how unlikely it was…and how much he needed me to simply ask for what I want. He also encouraged me to reflect on why it is so hard for me to do. It really makes no sense. Sometimes, it’s a matter of time. I know that even though I want it, I just really don’t have enough time to really devote to fucking him properly. Sometimes, honestly, I just want to get off…quickly…without expectation (which means 5 minutes alone with a vibrator).
But usually, when I supress it, it isn’t because I don’t have enough time. It isn’t because we’re busy doing something else more important. I feel the desire well up in my throat and I just choke it back down…go back to whatever we are doing. It’s not even a justifiable excuse.
And that means…it needs to change.