Easy like Sunday morning … and Tuesday night.

Me: Is this anything more than a one off?
Her: I don’t know. We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.
There was a pause. It was ominous.
Her: If you mean am I usually too tired and stressed? Yes. If you mean are we usually going to bed and getting up at different times? Yes.
Me: If that’s all, then it’s all surmountable.

The conversation is a bit of blur from then on.

Me: We just need to make time.
Her: Agreed.
Me: Tuesday Night and Sunday morning.
I don’t think She thought I meant it.
Me: Seriously!
I did mean it. Very seriously.
A little more was said.
Me: But just because we say Tuesday night and Sunday morning …
She interrupted.
… doesn’t men we can’t any other time …
Me: … and it doesn’t mean we have too then either. As long as we make time.

The conversation is again a bit blurry.

We hugged. The foreplay, what little there had been to that point, had paused. A moment to get away from the stress of discussion.

The stroking started again.
Like the relentlessly persistent fool I am, my thumb aimed for Her groin. She had Her hand round my cock, and I wanted, needed, yearned to reciprocate. There was no great encouragement, no biblical parting of Her thighs, but there seemed to be no objection. I backed off and moved my hand to a tit. Her arm moved to ease my access to that. Conscious not to concentrate on one erogenous zone too long, my hand moved back to Her thigh, which moved, as if to suggest I reach behind Her. An invitation towards Her pussy? I did. Just finger tips. Not least as, wrapped together as we were, that’s all I could manage, and more importantly, all I dared. There was no objection. Possibly even the opposite. So as not to overdo things, I moved my hand to a different target, and then back to Her slit.

Still no objection.

Her: Do you want to get one of the new condoms?
I got out of bed, and crossed to the drawer where the jiffy bag, straining with over 30 rubbers and a vibrating cock ring had lain, neglected for nearly 2 months. It was dark, there was momentum, and this was not the time for debating which sheath might be best to try first. I pulled one out at random, climbed back into bed, and rolled the contraceptive onto my erection in full view of Her.

The cuddles and strokes recommenced.
Her hand found my dick and although initially I was unsure, when She stroked my helmet, even through the sheath I thought I could feel a little more than with the Mates Natural inner tubes.

Again I ventured to run my hand towards Her cunt.
Something was said. I forget what. It wasn’t negative.
I suggested, possibly verbally, possibly physically, that She could allow me access from in front, rather than reaching round behind.
Her: It’s better for me like this.
The truth is, it’s bloody difficulty for me. Reaching round to Her quim whilst we cuddle face to face, I can barely reach and it’s a really uncomfortable angle for my wrist. But some sacrifices are worth it. I am confident that, if She would just allow me easier frontal access, I could do things for Her in more subtle, gentle, less ticklish ways. The pleasure I could give Her …
Me: Then can I move where I can reach better?
I shuffled down a little. I still could barely bend my wrist enough to get to Her snatch, but I could just about get there.
She seemed to like it.

Her: Can you put your fingers in me a bit?
Even now, three hours later, those words are ringing in my ears like the songs of angels. Can you put your fingers in me a bit? A tingle of joy in my head. Put your fingers in me. Words so magical I cannot hope to explain. In me.
To this point, I had only grazed my fingertips across Her outer lips, desperate not to violate Her space. Now I teased the tip of one finger between Her inner lips, delighting in the ripples of their edges. Transfixed by Her warmth. And wetness. And willingness. The sensation was divine. The permission, more so. The invitation … I have no words for that, just a swelling within my consciousness. A visceral desire to be part of one …?

Her: I think I need you in me.

We fucked.
She came, and I was pretty sure it was a stronger orgasm than usual. (I still can’t help but laugh at the word usual.)
I didn’t cum, but that was neither a problem, nor unexpected at that stage.
We slowed to a stop.

Her: I got there, wandered around a bit, and then went off somewhere else. What about you?
Me: I don’t know.
Her: Are the new condoms better?
Me: I think so. I can certainly feel your pussy a bit better. And I could feel your fingers on my tip.
Her: That’s good.
Me: I’ve no idea if they’ll be any better than the others.
Her: We can find out.
Me: I like you fucking me.

There was some mention of Tuesdays and Sundays.
I mean it. I really do.
And I mean to stick to it. I really do.
There are numerous times I have said I will try, and I have meant all those too. They have come to naught, but to use my Wife’s words as She got out of bed and headed to the bathroom …
Her: To be continued.

17 Responses to “Easy like Sunday morning … and Tuesday night.”

  1. I’m loving Sundays and Tuesdays on your behalf.

  2. OH YEAH! I knew there was something yesterday, and believed you when you said today would be a better day. Does this mean we can expect to hear from you twice a week now? 😉
    Actually, I don’t care whether we don’t, I’ll just be happy if you do it. Or make the time. It’s an important first step!
    And that she felt good with you touching her? Triple YEAH!!!
    Can you see my smile all the way to the UK? 😀

    • I have to confess that I was posting 24hrs behind (as I will again tomorrow), so I knew what was coming. Fuck Club had been in the pending tray, and as it came the day before this (and I don’t like to post more than once a day) I wanted to get it out there first, for the sake of narrative arc.

      I wish I knew I’d have cause to post twice a week. We’ve had a lot of first steps and time will tell whether there are any more steps this time.

      As for my Wife actually wanting my fingers in Her cunt, even if I didn’t get very deep at all … again I don’t have any words to express how great that was. I so want to wank Her properly – for Her to be comfortable lying back, legs and pussy spread wide, and for Her to enjoy me doing what I know I used to be really really good at! Yes, I can see your smile from here, and I suspect you can probably see the shadow my erection must be casting across half the planet.

    • You don’t have to confess anything, I knew already 😉
      The most important thing is that you are still both trying to take steps. Who cares if they are first steps for the umpteenth time? 🙂
      Yes, I can see the shadow. And I can also see the scene in my minds eye… I understand that it could have such an effect on you!

    • Putting my realist’s hat on, a thousand first steps get pretty tiring when a thousand second steps are off a thousand cliffs. That said, yes, I am a persistent bastard at the best of times.

      And fuck, yes, the effect …!!!! FUCK FUCK FUKERTY FUCK-A-DOODLE-FUCKING-DO!!!!!!! I just want Her cunt – in every way possible – touch, taste, smell, feel, hot, wet, tight, deep, spread, filled, licked, worshiped … I need to get off the internet and get some work done or a) my balls are going to be too sore to be any use tonight, or b) I’ll have driven myself to wanking and spoil tonight’s chances. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    • Ok… GO!!! Get off the fucking internet and keep all of your chances tonight.

  3. Smiling so big for you and even though I know what it’s like to take the first step a thousand times and be beside myself in frustration that I have too… there is a draw to it, knowing what is beyond step two and three that keep me going as I’m guessing is the same with you. Again, big smiles. 🙂

  4. Very happy and excited for you! A thousand steps and a thousand hopes will keep you going, a little at a time. A beginning not the ending 🙂

  5. sassygirl40 Says:

    Oh this post made me feel very happy for you! Yay for Sundays and Tuesdays!

  6. I’m hopeful! Do report back tomorrow.

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