Candles

Saturday evening we had Celebrating A Significant Event Sex. Not a hugely significant event, as we didn't go out for dinner and didn't do anything special during the day, but just about significant enough for sex to be expected.

It's strange, the way I feel about Saturday Evening Sex. On one hand, it's a good thing, as I know that we're going to do it, and that (sadly) gets it out of the way for another week... and on the other hand, it sucks, because I feel obligated to have sex, even though I may not feel like it. Last weekend, I had a very unexpected period, and he wasn't feeling too good, and that was just great, because I could kiss and cuddle him without thinking "Oh god, that was a bad idea, he's now going to jump on me..."

On the train in to work this morning, I was thinking about... well, about how much I love him. I do love him. I cherish him. I love to look after him, it makes me happy. I spent Sunday in the kitchen cooking (I made ice-cream, I baked a cake, I made a stew), and OK, I had a lovely time because I love to cook, but I'm tackling the relics left behind by the Spawn on my mid-section, so I'm not eating any of it! The idea of him not being around for whatever reason has me ready to burst into tears. He's my honey, my darling, my sweetheart.

But having sex with him? Yeah, like, whatever. I can do without that. Not all the time, because it is, after all, damn good sex, and I do enjoy it... but, except to please him, I'm really not about to initiate it. I just have no interest in him that way.

And that makes me sad.

But I really am determined not to let it matter. After all- it's just sex. I can close my eyes and open my legs and keep that smile on my lips. It's not hugely important, considering the quality of the rest of our relationship.

He's a good man. He can be insensitive, he can be thoughtless, he can be selfish- but then who isn't? And he loves me, he looks after me, he's a good father, and, damn it all, he makes me happy.

Thus, Saturday Evening Sex. Which I was actually looking forward to (you weren't expecting that, were you?). He wanted me to dress up, I was gearing up to ask whether I couldn't skip the damn stuff and have him just love me for once and not the damn nylon, when the Spawn puked on my clothes just before her bedtime (not something she does very often- I think she had too much of something) and I had to change anyway. But I didn't go the whole hog- just a black satin half-slip, to go with the black lace top I was already wearing. And no stockings, no heels.

He didn't say anything about it, just said how nice the half-slip was, and stroked my thigh through it as we ate popcorn and watched a movie. After which we headed off to bed.

Oh, but the joys of having our own bedroom back! Not only do I get to read in bed at night before turning the light off (an utter joy for the book-o-holic that I am), but we can actually have sex somewhere comfortable again! No more floors! No more trying to not fall off the chesterfield and thus messing up my orgasm! Oh, heaven.

Which might, come to think about it, explain why I was actually looking forward to it. Mm. Bed. I love my bed. I love our bed. I love our humungous, 2 metre-square bed...

So we go into the bedroom. For some reason, we don't turn the light on. We kiss, then I turn my back to him, grinding my ass against his cock. Round and round, up and down, making him moan as he kisses my neck. After a while, I move forward, kneeling on the bed, and he stays close, my ass still stroking him. Then he moves forward to also kneel on the bed- but after a mere moment, moves back, shoving his pants down to let his cock out.

Holding it, he rubs it against the satin over my ass. I reach between my legs to stroke his balls, covering my hand with the satin. It doesn't last long again- he moves back, strips down. I'm still fully-dressed, panties and all. He rubs some more against my ass, then takes his cock and slides it between my thighs. I clench, and squirm some more.

I realise that I'm smiling in the dark. Not my usual Plastic Sex smile- but a proper smile. He can't see my face, so I don't have to- which is probably why I am. I'm actually enjoying this. I'm really enjoying the dark, and not having to put on a show. How strange...

Finally, getting a little bit bored and rather wanting some fun myself, I turn over. He reaches down, pulls my panties off for me. His head disappears straight down between my legs. I look up at the time, reflected on the ceiling, and he starts to lick at my clit. As usual, it's very sensitive at first, and I have to hold his head away until it loses enough sensation for him to be able to give it more than a very gentle lick every few seconds. I let go of his head, let him nuzzle in. He whispers "I love your taste"... and goes in. For a moment, I'm damn annoyed.

D'you know what I'd really like? I'd really like to have sex when I'm properly turned on. Sex when I'm actually, really, properly wet. Sex where my body is just humming with Oh God Fuck Me Now.

And no, I'm not annoyed with him over this. He does the best he can with a bad situation, and has never even mentioned it. I'm annoyed with myself. WHY can't I get turned on?!? What stupid fucking switch has my brain thrown in my libido that stops me from getting horny with this man I love so much?

He eats me and licks me and gets my body as ready as it can be, before coming up between my thighs, and rubbing his cock against my cunt. I reach down, position him- he slides just the head in, and I clamp my thighs against his sides, stopping him. I tell him just to fuck me there, just the entrance, no more... which he does, teasing me, telling me that just the head of his cock is in my hole, just that little bit inside me...

I reach down and start to finger my clit, rubbing two fingers over it. I spread my legs wide, starting to feel good, starting to want him further in me, but we take our time over it, and it isn't for another couple of minutes that he sinks all the way up.

He fucks me, long, slow strokes. I take the time to notice that it feels so much better now that there's a lot less of my flesh between the two of us (I've lost about 11 pounds so far, and not having so much belly seems to mean that he gets into me better), and then start to squirm under him, moving my legs, strumming my clit, silent (I think!) but really into it.

"I'm going to come, he whispers. I'm going to come deep up your cunt. Make me come up you, baby..." and I squirm, thrusting my hips upwards, feeling my cunt get more and more wet around his cock as he does indeed fill me up... after which he thrusts a couple more times, and I also start to come, moaning very quietly, wriggling and giving myself several lovely big round orgasms that seem to cover each other over as though I were one big Venn diagram...

I know that's a totally odd description, but I can't help it that that's the exact picture I had in my head as I came!

When I'd finished coming, which took a while as I started up again after stopping twice, I looked up at the ceiling, and realised that from when he went down on me to me coming was... five minutes. From 0 to 100 in five minutes. I said the sex with him was good!

After which we cuddled and giggled, and I made a joke about hoping that I was leaking a wet patch onto his side and not mine (which I wasn't, unfortunately!), then got up, cleaned up, got back into bed, cuddled a bit more, and went to sleep.

Quite satisfactory, all things considered.

I'm supposed to be seeing 48 this week, a date we set up last week, and which I knew, as I was setting up, that I was going to blow off. I just don't feel like it. In fact, I really don't feel like it at all! Not least because, albeit through no fault of his own, he really fucked me off on the phone a few days later. He'd asked me to call him, saying he missed hearing me, so I rang him during my lunch break. After chatting a while and telling me how horny he is over me, and how much he's missed me, and how much he fantasises about me, he asked me how my move had gone (the social part of the conversation), and how was my Spawn? Was I still breastfeeding? No, I said- she's been down to once in 24 hours for the last 2 weeks, and I had just cut even that last one out. Oh, he said. "So I'm going to replace her and be the one sucking on your tits?"

Oh dear. Poor guy had no idea...

My tits. Well, they just don't feel sexual to me at all any more. I'm hoping they will again some day, and am relatively optimistic in that regard, but at the moment, my husband tries to play with them and I just freeze up. It's like (but isn't really) this part of my body has just gone outside sex. They don't belong in sex. Touching them is the fastest way to turn me off. The idea of them being sucked on by anybody other than the Spawn is totally repulsive.

Thus I was going to cancel it anyway with some excuse about not being able to make it because of work (it was going to be during lunchbreak), but when he said that, I just went into shut-down. So I kept the conversation even shorter than I had planned!

I am so not in the mood for cheating...