Not another new begining?

Having bought the new TV, we don’t quite have room for it on the old TV stand, so We cant quite get it facing the sofa just yet. (I know this sounds boring and mundane, Dear Reader, but bear with me.) A consequence is that a better viewing angle is from one end of the sofa, and that meant We ended up sofa-spooning. (I’m not sure that’s quite the right way to describe it, but I’m sure you can figure out what I mean.)

The night before, I’d made  point of not hiding my semi when I went to bed and, although I was pretty confident my Wife had

noticed it bobbing gently as I climbed in beside Her, We did our usual thing – going to sleep, back to back with plenty of space between us. No repetition of a few days before. I wondered how many months it would be before She decided She wanted to fuck again.

That night, having laboriously installed the TV and all it’s cabling, and then sofa-spooned as We watched Doctor Who, We went to bed. Full of blind hope, yet again, as I brushed my teeth, I stroked my cock just enough to make sure I had a proper erection when I went to bed, and again I was pretty confident my Wife noticed it, bobbing a little more reluctantly, as I climbed into bed beside Her.
The lights went out.
Nothing was said.
We turned our backs and I expected to go to sleep as frustrated as ever.
She invaded the space between us.
Tentatively.
Her hand brushed my shoulder.
Oh, what the hell?! I thought, and reached a hand across to rest on Her hip, my thumb causally, but deliberately resting in the crease of Her groin.

I don’t really remember quite what happened next: I think She made some veiled comment about being more open with each other, and for some reasons I suggested let’s talk then.
So We did.
At great length.
About Her sense that We were in a better place just now, though we still needed to work a whole lot out, and how She wanted us to have a sex life again, even though it hadn’t been a great sex life and despite the maelstrom of New Year. About how, over the last 8 months, I had given up on ever having sex again, despite wanting Her every day since, and not even wanting Her just once a day. And how black a place that is to come back from. How crushing it is to walk across a desert, resigned to the fact that you will never reach the far side, knowing that you don’t want to be there, but having no choice but to just keep walking. (It was a stretched metaphor, but the best I could manage.) How She knew She doesn’t want sex as much as I do, and how I had given up initiating sex years ago because I was tired of rejection. How I try to do things to Her that don’t work for Her. How sometimes She wants to just focus on my sexual pleasure. How She apparently doesn’t realise the things I try to do to Her are are often when I am letting Her focus on my pleasure and I’m trying to do them for my own pleasure. How, arrogance aside, I know very well how to make Her cum, but I have no idea how to get in Her head, and apparently She has no idea how to get into mine. How She wants us to start again with low expectations, but how to me, low expectations means something very different – to Her it’s sex without pressure, to me it’s with little expectation that our sex life will get better.
And fuck knows what else We talked about.
It took an age, and I felt myself retreating emotionally, and even physically recoiling slightly across the bed. Towards the edge. Away from her.

The conversation ground to a halt.
Any interest I’d had in fucking had long since dissipated and I wanted to be left alone.
I think I asked what She wanted.
She said She still wanted a quick shag.
Her mouth said it. Her face didn’t. Her hands didn’t. Her body didn’t. Most of all, Her eyes didn’t say She wanted a quick shag.
And I told Her so. A put-down, perhapse, but there is little less erotic than someone saying they want to fuck you when their body language contradicts their words.
The discussion turned difficult again. And again I don’t really remember what was said.

Then She made moves. A kiss, or a nuzzle, or a stroke, or something, or all of them, that made me think She might want a quick shag.
I did nothing. Lay there passively.
Did She want a quick shag, or did She want to convince me that She wanted a quick shag?

And then it all just got too much. I can only take so much before my cock gets the better of me. Before the urge to fuck my Wife is irrepressible. And I joined in.

She wanted the lights on, I think so We could make eye contact. For a change I really wanted dark. I didn’t want eye contact. But it meant I got to see Her body. We’re both middle aged, unfit, and neither of us is a prime example of classical sexual beauty, but seeing the body I’m fucking is hugely arousing.

Mid fuck, more things were said.

She commented how I like more things than She does. I said She doesn’t know that till She tries them. She seemed to concede the point.

Apparently I looked like I was enjoying myself. I said I liked seeing the look on Her face, the feel of Her tits and the smell of Her cunt. (I make a point of using the word cunt. I love the word almost as much as I love cunts, and I want cunt to be a normal word that She is comfortable with.) She said She liked the feel of me.

She likes being on top because it frees my hands up for other things.

A random thing that came to Her mind was that if I wanted Her, not to send Her text messages, but rather to tell Her. I told Her I wouldn’t dream of sending Her such texts these days.

She asked if We could stop fucking for a while because She was feeling apprehensive. It didn’t matter if She cums every time We fuck and sometimes She wants to concentrate on me. I said that me cumming wasn’t as important for me as Her enjoying Herself is, irrespective of whether She cums or not. The mood had passed, and the light was turned off.

Did I want Her to finish me? I said I’d tell Her if I ever didn’t. But I still had to take Her hand and put it on my cock. She said She likes it when I cum inside Her. So we rolled over,  and I fucked Her missionary style. I asked to turn the light on as I liked watching. I leant back and enjoyed the sight of sliding my bald cock into Her hairy quim. (I’d enjoy it more if I could see the true beauty of Her pussy, if only She’d get waxed, or I could have the immeasurable pleasure of shaving Her bush into a neat shape. And even though I may yet want Her to know that, I am not going to tell Her any time soon.)

I lifted Her legs on shoulders so I could drive into Her deeper. The look on face wasn’t encouraging and She said it just seemed weird. It had been feeling good for me, but I pulled out of Her and rolled over. I encouraged Her to toss me off again.

After enjoying Her wank me for a while, I pulled Her hand away from my cock and licked the palm, telling Her how much I like the taste of Her pussy. She looked a little awkward, but said She knew. I said I love going down on Her, that I knew She wasn’t comfortable with it, but that I liked it for my own pleasure, not just Her’s.

I asked Her to kneel between my legs, because it was more comfortable for me, it makes it better for me watching, and it’s easier on Her forearm. Though I didn’t say it, it also gives Her easier access to my anus, but with strategically exhaled oohs and ahhs and fuck that’s goods She got the idea, very deliberately tickling my sphincter as bucked against Her fingers, begged Her for HARDER and then shot my load over my own face.

She stopped too soon, as most often She has. I told Her so, though not critically. I like strokes to get harder when I first start to ejaculate and then slowly subside as my balls are drained. She obviously made a mental note as She reached for the tissues and wiped up my sticky mess, despite the ripples of my orgasm still causing my body to spasm.

As we both relaxed into the night, around 3 hours after going to bed, I felt myself recoil slightly. It’s not that it hadn’t been good sex, or unwelcome sex, but for me to want to engage completely will be a long journey back. Right then I just wanted to curl up and go to sleep.

There is a morning after coda, but this has been a long tale, so I shall make it a separate post.

9 Responses to “Not another new begining?”

  1. quite a normal happening to long-married couples ! occasionally getting a bit bored and trying to spice it up with the hope that the other party is willing to ‘play along’ !

  2. Twice in a week! Although it’s not quite what, or perhaps how, you wanted, it’s an improvement buddy. Congrats. *hugs and kisses*

  3. Well, I liked reading this post. Not for the obvious lack of enjoyment you took in writing and/or experiencing whatever happened that night. But because efforts were made on both parts, because communication happened, real communication where she is making mental notes and you are aware of what you say…
    I hope that I get to read more of these sex tales and that you get to enjoy them more and more…

  4. I can relate to this post. A few situational differences but very familiar.

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