Why don’t you…?

Her: You’re falling asleep.
Me: Yeah. I know.
When we’d crashed on the sofa I’d asked Her to wake me if I dozed off. It’s a bad habit of mine which help me sleep through the night. (Of course when we fucked last week, I slept like the dead, but think She’s made the connection.)
Her: Do you just want to go to bed.
Me: And be awake at 5am again? No.
Her: Do you want to go to bed and not go to sleep?
[… pause …]
Me: Do you mean … sex?
Her: Yes.
Me: Sorry. I don’t really know how this works any more.
Her: I’m just aware that we’re getting back into old patterns. Me being too tired in the morning and you being too tired at night and …
I interrupted.
Me: Right. Lets just go to bed. This is getting too complicated.
We turned the TV off and went to bed.

Unusually She was under the covers before I’d even left the bathroom. Most often it’s the other way round.
Unusually Her bedside light was on. Most often the room is dark, or at the least it’s my lamp that’s on, which is less bright.
Unusually She was naked. It is rare for Her not to sleep in PJs, an old T-shirt, or a baggy nightshirt. Even in the good old halcyon days, when we’d fuck as irregularly as once or twice a month, She would invariably not be naked until long after foreplay was well under way. Not infrequently, not even until She went for Her post coital shower.

As I undressed, I noticed a pile of condoms on my bedside table. A pile!
Me: What’s this? Lucky dip?
Her: I just don’t know which ones you like.
We laughed.
[Ed: With hindsight, a wittier quip might have been something like “Are you planning to get through all those tonight?” Under closer scrutiny in the morning, it was admirably apparent She hadn’t just grabbed a handful from the dresser, but rather had made the effort to select one of each type we have, even, it seemed, each different size of My Size.]

I got into bed and we snuggled up.
Her: How are you doing?
Me: I don’t know.
Her: Still confused?
Me: Uncertain.
Her: I’m just making an effort.
She was. And it would be an idiot who could nether see that, nor appreciate it for what it was.
Her: We watch too much TV.
Me: Probably.
Her: Why don’t you …
For the benefit of those not of these shores nor our generation, when we were growing up there was a kids TV show called Why Don’t You.

wpwdy

We both chimed out the rest of the show’s title song in unison:
Her: … just switch off your television set and go out and do something less boring instead?
Me: … just switch off your television set and go and fuck your wife?
There’s always one, isn’t there, Dear Reader? Someone who takes the joke a little too far. I don’t think She found it nearly as funny as I did. But we moved on.

Her: Do you want the light on?
Me: Hmmm? At the moment, probably not.
I’m very much a sexually visual person. I like to see the person I’m fucking. I’m turned on by the sight of her tits, her pussy, the whole of her body. I’m turned on by the sight of my hands moving over her body and my cock sliding into it. I’m turned on by the sight of her reaction, the way she shakes and grimaces. The feedback from her face is really useful. Add to that, being able to look in someone’s eyes while your dick is in their snatch makes for a connection you can’t get in the dark. Though I wouldn’t dream of saying so out loud, right now, I didn’t want to have to look Her in the eye. I didn’t want to see Her face.
She agreed and turned off the light.

We lay in each other’s arms, almost motionless. We’re faced with a huge mountain to climb if we’re ever going to put this sex life back together. And this all felt a bit false. Staged. Contrived. Which it was. My head wasn’t in the right place for sex. But Her oscillating thumb on my shoulder initiated, and finally I swallowed my … it’s not pride, I don’t know what it is, but wat ever it is I swallowed it and reciprocated.

As I stroked Her arse we were obviously back in old territory, and it wasn’t long before I managed to do something entirely innocuous that made Her tense and twitch. My touch was too light, or She was too cold, or something I had no chance of ever understanding.

There was fumbled conversation. Explanation.
This was good, apparently, but the other day She had been in the mood before She came to bed. Not so now. That was obvious to me, even if not to Her. It was obvious to me that She wasn’t horny. She didn’t want sex. She just wanted us to have sex.
Discretion was the better part of valour and I resisted the urge to say so.

We paused, then again at Her behest, started again.

I was being careful. I was mostly staying clear of Her boobs, and the way She moved if my hand went anywhere near the front of Her thighs told me that going near Her pussy was not going to be productive. But eventually She seemed to relax a little, Her knees parted, and I tentatively reached for Her quim.
She was still really quite tense, although it seemed She instinctively bucked up to meet my hand. I wasn’t foolish enough to try to slip a finger into Her, but even with limited advance, I could tell She was really wet.

All good things must come to an end. Less good things all the sooner. And whatever it was that I wasn’t doing wrong wasn’t right.

Again She tried to explain.
Something was just a bit too quick.
I think what She meant was She was going to cum sooner than She wanted. I believe Her preference has always been to cum after me, and there have been consistent signs that indicate She actively does not want to orgasm before fucking, nor to cum purely from me wanking Her.

Whatever wasn’t working was not something we were going to get past tonight. We slumped to a halt.

Her: If you feel the urge to get up at 5am, feel free to come back later.

We continued to snuggle for a while, then disentangled and turned our backs on each other.

I didn’t sleep well. I woke 4 or 5 times during the night, and ultimately, at around 6am [it was Sunday], as She still slumbered, I took my erection downstairs and had a cup of tea.

If I’m honest, I had little intention of going back to bed. Had She come downstairs with an invitation it might have been different, but our kids bedroom light was on before She appeared so I was pretty confident that wasn’t going to happen.
Me: How are you doing?
Her: A bit rough actually. Bad dreams.
She made more tea, and we sat in complete silence for at least 5min.  Awkward silence.
The day went on …

6 Responses to “Why don’t you…?”

  1. Sorry 😦

    I wish there were something you guys could do to make it all better.
    hugs
    XO

    • Thanks Dawn. As you’ve no doubt figured out, I’m neither the world’s greatest optimist nor pessimist (nor the world’s greatest pervert) but through the shit I do see hope. This is a rollercoaster and neither of us deal well with the downs, but if we’re trying and not hating eachother when we fail, especially after a year of nothing, then there is hope.

  2. Still this is a BIG improvement from last year, she is actually trying to get you going. Last year was a downer (pun intended :)) for you so this is a big step. Take it slow but not to slow. Happy sexy 2017 could be ahead for you..

  3. Wishing you some good action.

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