We argued last night. About things far too big to discuss on the pitiful web pages of this blog. And when our mutual frustrations had been fully vented, and conversation had run civilly dry, I put my boots on, and my coat, and at 10:30pm I walked out of the house and went to the pub.

I drank too much. The barmaid obviously sensed my need and was complicit in my self destructive task, pouring larger measures than she should.

When I got home, I went upstairs, emptied my bladder, brushed my teeth … and went back downstairs. I pulled a blanket over myself as I lay back on the sofa. I had no intention of sleeping with my Wife.

Come morning, my head hurt. My body was drenched in the numbness of excess. And shards of pain carved through my neck and shoulder. Anger and bitterness still circled my mind like a malevolent vultures.

When my Wife and I eventually crossed paths, She offered an olive branch. A significant one. One that must have taken a great deal of soul searching. A concession that, in real terms, means She must reconsider who She is, and redefine Her own existence. It was no small gesture. Yet conspicuous by its absence was one word.


It is not a word that features regularly in my Wife’s vocabulary. Even when She apologises. But in Her own twisted way, She had apologised.

I regarded Her offering. Considered it’s meaning briefly. As great as it was, it did not resolve the issue. For that is a deep pool. Deep enough that we have rarely been brave enough to swim in it. And as great as Her offering was, I curtly spat it back at Her. I am not perfect. I am not always proud of myself. I was angry. And the issue could never be so easily resolved. In that moment I was not kind.

20min later I offered Her my olive branch. By way of a momentary hand on her shoulder. It was no apology, but it was a truce. And it seemed to be understood. But the twin vultures are still in orbit.

Many years ago, I explained to a colleague that hangovers made me horny. That’s another story. But courtesy of the generous barmaid, I am horny this morning. Were it not for us having a child in the house, right now we might have make-up-sex. That’s not something we ever do. But right now I need to tear though the barrier between us and thrust into my Wife’s body. We have only ever fucked in bed, but were it not for our young chaperon, right now I might grab my Wife by Her tits, push my hand down the front of Her jeans, and take Her on the kitchen table. A fuck would make this better. A hard fuck. An unromantic fuck. An unapologetic fuck. I might enjoy lifting Her legs up and spreading them, so I could see Her cunt impaled on my cock. So I could watch as Her flesh was filled with mine. I might use Her body as the fuck toy I wish She wanted me to. And as my cum rose from my balls, I might pull out of Her quim, stroke my own shaft, and spray my jizz over Her tits and face. And if She has not been adequately serviced, I might keep Her pinned on the table. Keep Her legs pushed back. And bury my face in Her hot, slippery snatch. She might protest – She is not comfortable receiving oral – but I might not care. She should enjoy my tongue in Her pussy. She would enjoy my tongue in Her pussy. I might lap at Her twat till She stopped objecting. I might force my tongue into Her muff till She screamed. I might chew on Her clit till She stopped screaming and just quietly whimpered. Till She submitted to pleasure and begged me, with tear stained cheeks, to stop. And then I might lick my cum from Her tits and face. And kiss Her. And we might be better for it.

That might be how to have make-up-sex. But we will not do it.

20 Responses to “Make-up-sex”

  1. That whole tale makes me feel sad. Sad that you argued, sad that you couldn’t make up before going to sleep (one of my mantras) and sad that you couldn’t have make-up-sex (as magnificent as it sounds it could have been)

  2. CaptKitty Says:

    I’m sorry that you and your wife had that kind of fight. Sometimes time is the best form of cooling down when sex is not an option. I hate apologizing and my husband has made it known plenty of times that I never apologize when I am in the wrong. I have since tried to force the words past my lips when I am wrong. It’s hard to do and I think that it’s mostly pride that acts as the barrier. I hate going to bed angry but I KNOW that I have to say sorry and mean it when I am wrong. Hope you and your wife make up soon and get past this argument.

    • CaptKitty, Must be a woman-thing, I am often told off for never saying sorry. Makes me feel about 6 years old which just makes me angrier.
      AM, hope your weekend improves, maybe you’ve made up by now.

    • CaptKitty Says:

      I don’t know if it’s a woman thing. It might be. Not really sure. All I know is that I HATE being wrong and on the occasion I am, spitting out “I’m Sorry” is very difficult for me to do. I just get angrier for being proved wrong more than for having to apologize. Again, I think it’s a pride issue for me.

  3. sexuallifeofawife Says:

    I’m sorry you fought so bitterly.
    If only you could have that fucking/sex/oral that you have so hornily described. It might not resolve the argument – only time will do that. But at least your balls and her cunt might be satisfied – which can go a long way in terms of making one a bit happier…

    • I’m not sure it was a bitter fight. Just a big issue that has rarely been discussed.
      I have no doubt that more satisfied balls and cunt would go hand in hand with happier spouses. Unfortunately which would need to be cause and which would be effect is reversed for us.

  4. For many who loathe saying sorry, they feel like they’ve lost or are losing something. Some feel so wretched about having wronged someone else that admitting it by way of sorry is like ripping off a limb.

    I’m lucky I’ve never had that problem. I readily apologize. I feel proud of myself for the ability even!

    Your description of makeup sex is phenomenal; I never had that while married, either. I wonder if it’d have helped… xx Hy

    • My Wife’s inability to apologise is juxtaposed by what is probably an excessive drive to on my part. This probably doesn’t help, and has to an extent, stopped me apologising to Her as often as I should.
      Your choice of “phenomenal” as a description of my description intrigued me. So I re-read it. [Cue snort of laughter.] My enthusiasm for visceral, carnal satisfaction, both mine and someone else’, really is utterly wasted sometimes.

  5. American men have a great ritual to support each other when shit goes down. We look at each other, shake our heads and in our most emotionally supporting tone of voice we say, “Dude.” The “u” is kind of drawn out a little in the word.

    *shaking head supportively* Duuude.

  6. I never get make up set either. First relationship I have been in that we do not have make up sex….

    • I think this is the first for me too. But I don’t think I have been in a relationship where it would be in order so often.

    • That sucks, we do not fight much any more, what is the sense, I can not win and I am to old to keep getting physical. I do not know what it is but all my life I have always squared up with any guy who was being an ass. (mostly my kids fathers) My youngest father once said that the biggest mistake he ever made was showing me how to use my weight when I through a punch:) Today I have no reason to live like that any. Since I will not have any more babies, I will never put up with that shit again…Oh shit I am babbling:)

    • I suspect you’ve had far worse shit to deal with than I ever will.

    • It is what it is and that it all it is:)
      I learned a few years ago why I am this way. It was weird I had my daughter at the dentist and this old fat man with cruches comes in. I looked at him look at him again. He it was my step dad whom I have not seen since I was 15.
      that is when I started remembering how he would throw my mom around like a rag doll. I was 11 then I would stand up to him to protect her. I can not even imagine my 11 year old having to do that for me..Crazy shit…But like I said it is what it is and that is all it is……Lifes to short to be anything but happy:)

  7. shit AM – I would make up fights just to have make up sex with you! Get a babysitter!

  8. OMG. that is the sexiest make up sex that never happened. I am now figuring out evil ways to suggest this to my husband (and let him think it was his idea.) O well, not gonna happen. Will just have to make do with your writing and my imagination. 🙂

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