I know I said I wouldn’t but … Pt. 3

Day 5131
The first day back at work and I’m awake an hour before the alarm. I lie staring into the gloom for a while. She stirs enough to make me pretty certain She’s awake. I move my hand from my erection to Her. Nothing overt, but I would have thought enough. She rolls over, and turns Her back on me. I lie, dejectedly staring into the gloom for a while, then get up. I probably shouldn’t be surprised. At breakfast, an hour later, I am cold and uncommunicative.
When She gets home from work, discussion about other things make me think She hasn’t the faintest idea that that was a significant cause of my stress.

Day 5135
She got out of bed and went to the bathroom. A few minutes later she returned and got back into bed. A gentle hand on my shoulder. I wasn’t in the mood. Not even a semi. (Despite a bizarre dream in which I seemed quite stressed about my pubes falling out.) I didn’t move. 5 or 10 min passed and She retrieved Her hand. Probably only a minute later She put it back on my waist. I still wasn’t in the mood. 5 or 10 minutes later She got up and went to the gym.
We went to a friend’s summer party – pleasant but nothing particularly noteworthy. We headed home early due to parental duties. She rolled over to me in bed and we went through the usual stroking: ie finding out She was tense and ticklish. Never a good thing. Apparently some of what I was doing was good, really good but, Dear Reader, you would probably have considered it tame: thighs, buttocks, back, side-boob – nothing interesting. It was all a little stop/start, though eventually She climbed aboard. We fucked for a while but getting my hands on Her properly is something that gets me in the mood, and without being granted anything more than limited access, the flesh was willing but the spirit was weak. She decided She needed to pause, and what little momentum we had dissipated. I pulled off the condom and we went to sleep, long before either of us might have cum.

Day 5136
I don’t remember who reached for who as the sun forced it’s beam between the folds of the curtains. Anyway, it was just an arm, which ended up as a snuggle. My cock bobbed away under the sheets as usual. She said something about taking care of me, or something like that. That wasn’t what I wanted at all. I wanted Her cunt. And I wanted to fuck. She said She didn’t have the energy … maybe tonight, if She wasn’t too tired. I got out of bed and went for a shower. When I returned, I felt grumpy and saw no point in hiding what could probably be described as an angry erection.

Day 5171
Unusually I woke without an erection. Unusually I didn’t feel horny. Unusually She spooned up behind me. I wasn’t interested and feigned sleep. Her arm reached around me. I swore silently. Her hand headed for my crotch. I stopped breathing. She stroked my flaccid cock. Mercifully it didn’t respond. She stroked some more.
In other circumstances I would have welcomed the attention with spreading legs and probing fingers. But no.
Not interested.
No reaction.
She gave up and rolled away.
I could breathe once more.

Day 5197

Wisely or not I’ve not been making much of a secret of my wanking recently. If I joggled the bed a little, so be it. If I could hear my hand against the duvet or the little wet sounds of my foreskin, what of it? Worst case scenario, She notices and we have a big argument.
Usually, if She stirs while I’m rubbing one off, I just stop, and nothing happens.
This morning I didn’t notice She was awake as I stroked my freshly waxed cock.
And Her hand moved to graze against my hip.
Shit!
I’d been caught.
Her fingers drew little circles on my hip, before moving to my chest. I moved my hand from my dick to Her arm to halt Her progress.
And there we lay.
Motionless.
And silent.
Her: How are you doing?
Me: Ok. You?
Her: Yeah.
And that was it. Nothing more.

Day 5213
We had a row. For me, a trivial straw had broken the camel’s back. I felt like I’d had enough.
Me: I think we’d all be better off if I moved out.
The conversation was long, and painful, and honest. And at the end of it … nothing really. No resolution, and everyone feeling shit. Suicide attempts are often said to have been intended to fail, but rather be a cry for help. I don’t think I really want a divorce. I know I don’t really want a divorce. But I don’t want to go on like this. The little things no longer feel little. Maybe they could, but something’s going to have to change dramatically.

 

 

12 Responses to “I know I said I wouldn’t but … Pt. 3”

  1. corsetandstockings Says:

    AM, I’m glad to read you really don’t want a divorce. But you two do need to talk, desperately. Although you did, and that was good, there should be more (reason cited for most relationship failures is lack of communication).
    And She is communicating with her hand, She’s sending you a message, if nothing else that She’s trying.
    Awaiting the next installment…

  2. The term passive-aggressive seems to fit.

    Do something!

  3. Wicked Tigress Says:

    Hugs.

  4. I am sorry – good luck.

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