I can’t tell if She’s listening?

Last night it was my turn to be asleep on the sofa at 9:30. At 10pm I was asleep in bed an I have no idea what time my Wife came to bed.

Come Sunday morning, no surprises, I’m awake way too early, She’s asleep, and my erection is twitching like Frankenstein’s monster still wired to the lightning conductor.

Oh yeah … and my balls still ache.

Having contemplated sneaking out of bed and having breakfast on my own for half an hour, I made the wrong(?) move and my Wife stirs. Straight away She goes to the bathroom. As She circumnavigates the bed in the dark, I reach for the pain killers and noisily push a couple out of the plastic sheet.

When She comes back to bed She snuggles up and puts a hand where my pubes were 3 days ago. She strokes a little but I’m not sure I’m in the mood – I’d rather talk than fuck. Or at least I’d rather talk before we fuck. When my hands don’t reciprocate She pauses and silence ensues. Resolving that a bird in the hand is better than two in the bush (sorry to let you down Dear Reader, but I couldn’t quite figure out a pun that worked for bird, hand and bush) I put my hand on Her arse and gently squeeze. She responds.

After a minute or two She asks if I’m on the pain killers again. She saw me popping pills three times yesterday, and thankfully noticed me taking them again this morning. I say yes, but whereas I’d expect anyone else to ask why, She says nothing. My neck and shoulders are generally screwed these days, so whilst taking painkillers is far from a daily occurrence, it isn’t unusual. Maybe She’s assuming that’s why I’m self medicating.

Anyway, we fumble on.

She seems to enjoy me stroking Her tits for once, though despite my caution I still manage to do something wrong a couple of times, soliciting unwelcome twitches.

She wraps a hand around my cock and strokes it. It feels good.
Her fingers stray towards my balls. (You remember, Dear Reader, the ones that ache.)
Me: Just be gentle with them today.
Her: Ok
She returns to my shaft with the lightest of touches.
Me: It’s my balls you’ll need to be gentle with this morning. You can be as rough as you like with my dick.
Her (with a laugh): Well you say that …
And She grips a little tighter. It feels good, but I’d rather She asked about my balls.
She nudges one of my nuts and I flinch.
Her: Sorry.
Me: It’s ok. They’re just quite uncomfortable at the moment. You’ve probably never heard of testicular hyper-tension …
Her: … … …
Nothing. Not a word. If the light was on I wonder if I would even have seen Her raise an inquisitive eyebrow.

Oh never mind.

She climbs aboard and we fuck.
It feels good. Her cunt is tight and (after a minute or two of slow, deep thrusts) slick with juices. I think about how good it would be to taste Her.

For once, we are quite forceful and focused. I tightly grip the back of Her neck and dig my fingers into Her buttock, driving as hard and deep as I can. She reciprocates.
We even grunt a little!

The She adjusts Her position, I feel Her pussy relax around my cock and the moment is lost.

She suggests we turnover – missionary – which is ok with me: I can invariably make Her cum like this, as it allows me to grind against Her clit. (More of this in the next day or so.) And pleasingly, as soon as I start baring down on Her mound, Her breathing quickens and I’m obviously hitting the spot.

She cums quietly today.

My balls ache, and right now I could probably fill Her quim with so much jizz She could taste it. But I’ve given Her what is probably Her first orgasm in months – job done – and my aching balls are really putting me off my stroke. So I pull out.

She offers to help me finish.
I say I’m not sure as it’s not comfortable today, but She’s welcome to try.
I roll over and She starts to wank me.
I flinch a couple of times, but as She ministers to my member I tell Her it feels good.

Our kids’ bedroom door creeks and we freeze.

A munchkin opens the door and climbs into bed next to Mummy.

I excuse myself and go to the bathroom, covering my still vertical tool with my hand.

Behind a closed door, I start to toss myself off, but no. I stop. As much as I need to unload my bollocks, I want to shoot my load for my Wife, and preferably in Her.

I shower and return the bedroom. As my Wife is not alone, I cover my still enthusiastic manhood with a hand, retrieve some underwear from beside the bed, and dress with my back to them both.

There’s some discussion between mother and child about getting dressed.
Her ( to child): Watching me have a shower will be boring.
I lean across and whisper in my Wife’s ear.
Me: I don’t think watching you in the shower would be boring.
She smiles.

And then I go downstairs to get everyone’s breakfast.

When my Wife comes downstairs, She cuddles up to me.
Her: How are you doing?
Me: Well … you know …
Her: Is there anything I can do?
Me: Not right now.
Her: I might do some pottering in the garden while you do the run to Kids’ Swim Club if that’s ok? If you’re not too uncomfortable?
Me: Yeah, that’s fine.
I rest my hand on Her arse and squeeze it gratuitously and we actually look into each other’s eyes.
Her: It’s a good start. Even if it not for you.
And we’re disturbed, yet again, by a child.

And still, my balls ache.

8 Responses to “I can’t tell if She’s listening?”

  1. Ache Balls, that is a good name for you….I know have not been active lately, and I do not know when I will get enough time to go back and figure it out so I need to ask what happened?
    It is nice to hear you and and your wife are getting along….

    • For the first time in far far too long we’ve been fucking this week.
      Unfortunately I’ve not cum (largely, I believe, because I’ve become too reliant on wanking and whilst pussy is great, I need something different at the moment.) As I’m trying to rectify that situation I’ve also been blighted by the most protracted case of Blue Balls I’ve ever had to endure.

  2. I’m starting to ache in sympathy for you…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: