I know I said I wouldn’t but … Pt 14

Day 5289
Yesterday had been eventful, but in an ostensibly positive way, and had certainly ended on a high. A rare night out whilst childcare had been off-loaded onto Grandparents, then off to see the new Star Wars movie, and home to an empty house.
An opportunity for noisy, uninhibited, sex?
Barely even a snuggle in bed.
Come the morning, and I was aiming to get out of bed before She woke. I couldn’t get the lost opportunity out of my head, nor the frustrations of the last 10-15 yrs.
As soon as I moved Her hand was on my shoulder and, in practical terms, I was restrained.
There was some stroking. I moved towards Her tit. She flinched and …
Her: My shoulder’s really tense.
I had nothing to say.
She said something to the effect that sex wasn’t off the cards, but that just the area around Her shoulder was … oh, I don’t know.
Me: Can I do anything to help?
Her: You can try to give it a rub.
(She meant Her shoulder, though with hindsight I could more happily have given something else a rub in Her absence.) So I did. (Her shoulder, that is.)
But what little momentum I had had, had evaporated.
Her: Do you want to get a cup of tea and come back?
I snorted a tiny laugh. Not at the suggestion, nor the intent, but rather at the irony: tea or sex – how very British. I had nothing to say.
Over the next few minutes we relaxed away from each other. And I got out of bed, collected my clothes in the dark, and went downstairs.
I made myself a cup of tea, and settled down in front of the original Star Wars movie on DVD.
She came downstairs, still in Her dressing gown, and snuggled up on the sofa with me.
I thought about undressing Her on the sofa, spreading Her legs, then spreading Her pussy. I got hard again. My erection nudged at Her back.
I know She noticed because, when She went to make Herself breakfast, She gratuitously rubbed my thigh. But that was it.
We had breakfast. We showered separately. I stayed at home to work while She drove to relieve the Grandparents.
The elephant was back.

Day 5292
[Post coital thought dump.]
Usual start, but before work. That’s good.
Over a week. About bloody time.
Less that two. I really shouldn’t complain.
But it’s hard work.
Something intangible says this isn’t going to be easy.
It isn’t.
No access permitted to tits.
Don’t squeeze to hard.
Mixed messages.
Not really interested.
I’m not interested.
She tugs on, and fails to interest, my dick.
I stop her.
Her: Why?
Me: Don’t know.
Or maybe I should have said Don’t no. Stop saying No.
We grind to a halt.
She sits up to straddle me, so I can see Her body in the dim light. As She reaches back to stroke my balls I’m allowed to play with Her tits and, twisting my wrist at a wholly unnatural angle my thumb is tolerated against Her bush. Then my hand is tolerated between Her thighs. I push my hand under Her so She sits with Her cunt on the back of my hand. I twist it over so I can actually touch Her. Properly. And She halts my progress as apparently my thumb digs into Her thigh and that’s uncomfortable.
Well if She’d fucking move so I could fucking finger Her fucking pussy fucking properly it wouldn’t be fucking uncomfortable for both of us and She might actually fucking like being fucking masturbated.
Fuck it!
That’s the end of that then.
Another No.
She climbs off but persists.
We fuck.
Her: Are you going to cum.
Me: No!
Her: I could easily …
I interrupt. Me: I know!
Her: … but if you might too, let’s concentrate on you.
We fuck some more.
Straight away I really don’t care. I just want Her to cum so She’ll get off.
I do everything that’s made Her cum recently.
None of it’s working.
I give up.
Me: Not even you are going to cum this morning.
Her: If you’re not coming with me it’s harder.
Obviously She’s not noticed how our fucking has all been about Her orgasms for the last month or so. It’s always about Her. I don’t expect to cum in Her at the moment so what’s the point in me fucking me. When I do, She seems to end up on a route to Her summit and suddenly doesn’t want me to fuck me. Not that She’s noticed. Obviously.
I shift to get my dick out of Her, but it slips back in.
I reach down with my hand and tug it irritatedly out of Her possession, and pull off the condom off immediately.
Her: Maybe we need to look into IUDs. Condoms … blah blah blah …
Me: Whether that will make any difference remains to be seen.
Do you think that won’t help?
Is that a suggestion the problem is mine? It’s my physical problem?. 40% of men over 40% blah blah blah… Bullshit. Responsibility-dodging, head-in-the-sand, it-can’t-be-me bullshit!
Her: Too much like hard work?
Me: Possibly. Yeah. Not engaged. My idiot has a leader.
[Ed. We had a conversation the other day. I made some joke about the Manopause. She made some mention of someone famous who had once said that it was a relief when he got older and lost his libido. Previously it had been like being led around by an idiot and then, suddenly, he was free.]
The radio alarm heralds the day. She gets up, and before She’s across the room, my face is buried symbolically in the pillow.

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