Marking time

Back in … jeez I can’t remember when … was it 18 months ago, or maybe longer … there was some mention that we should schedule regular sex. We managed one fuck, maybe two at most, before that resolution failed completely. Now, so many months on, we have scheduled sex twice a week.

It’s Wednesday. We’re away on holiday. A self catering cottage. And as we prepared super, whilst our hosts’ kids entertained ours in the adjacent fields, I was tempted to ask Her if we were going to have sex later.
It felt presumptuous. Pushy. Pressureing. Insecure? Yet, was it not a reasonable question? Twice a week was, after all, Her suggestion. I bit my tongue.

3hrs later …
It had been a long day, mostly on our feet, wandering round museums and up hills. We were both tired, and we both knew we were both tired.
We went to bed.
She put Her hand on my shoulder. We chatted about the day and excursions with which we might fill the rest of the holiday.
The conversation dried up, and we lay there. Silently. Her hand still on my shoulder.
Until, what I guess was some 10 or 15 minutes later, I fell asleep.

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