A week is a long time in sex.

Friday night.
We had a rare grown-ups-only night out to see a band. It was a good evening.
When we got home, we sat down to unwind in front of the TV. For months, we have occupied separate sofas in the evening. For months there has been no intimacy. Tonight She sat next to me.

Saturday night.
I’d felt horny all day. Seriously horny! Not because She’d sat next to me on the sofa, but because the moon was waxing, the Yen was high against the Australian Dollar and a butterfly had flapped it’s wings on the steppes of Mongolia.
Come the evening, again we retreated to the TV. My cock was hard and twitchy in my jeans. She sat next on the same sofa as me, turned Her back and snuggled up to me. My cock twitched on.

Monday morning.
It’s early. It’s been a hot night. At something like 5:30am I’m lying with the duvet pushed aside, and my erection twitching in the thick morning air. I lie there for an hour or so.
She wakes up and puts a hand on my shoulder. The first time in months.
Maybe that’s it. Maybe She will leave me alone. But my dick twitches on.
She rolls in towards me.
It’s ok though. It’s not long till 7am, and I threw out all the condoms a couple of months ago. We’re not going to have to fuck. I’m confident of that.
She says something about wanting sex and getting mixed messages.
I say something about I don’t want the complications.
She says something about being in the mood this morning.
I say something about being in the mood every morning.
She apologises.
I say something about it being nearly 7am. (The hour when we need to get up and embrace the working week.)
She points out it’s not Monday. It’s Sunday. I could have sworn it was Monday. I was relying on that to get me out of having the sex I want to have. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!
It’s ok though. I have another safety net.
I point out we don’t have any condoms. I have no reason to think She is aware of this. She must know should still have a significant number left.
She reaches into Her bedside drawer and pulls out 3 or 4 condoms. Fuck! I had no idea She’d retained some within reach of Her side of the bed.

The sex was …
… forceful …

With any other couple it might have been regarded as passionate, lustful or urgent.
I grabbed Her tits and squeezed them hard. She responded positively.
I grabbed Her cunt and was anything but gentle. She responded positively.
I did something else. And She responded negatively.
We stumbled to a halt.
The same old story.

There are expressions of regret. Mutual assumptions about self-blame.
It was my mistake.
Apparently it wasn’t. It was Her’s.

The over-riding thought in my head?
I just couldn’t be bothered with this.

Somehow She got us back on track.
Again the sex was …
… forceful …

I fucked Her hard. Ramming my cock into Her with all the vigour I could manage. Pushing my weight hard down onto Her and crushing Her tits. Pulling hard against the bed frame so I could thrust hard into Her pussy. I rubbed Her nipple Hard. Ground up against Her clit hard.
She came hard.

I rolled off and tore off the empty condom.
There was some mention of Her level of pleasure. Hadn’t I noticed she’d cum? Had I been too busy squashing Her?
There was some mention of what I didn’t understand. [The wrong phrase, Dear Reader, but I’m not sure what the right one is.] That we’d had rough sex and that didn’t fit with … [I don’t know how I phrased it. But being on the receiving end of forceful sex does not fit with my Wife’s character.]
Apparently it wasn’t rough sex.
Ok. It wasn’t rough, but it was forceful.

The conversation petered out.
She went down on me until I was hard again.
Then tossed me off.

The next Friday night.
I’ve been out for the evening on pseudo-business.
When I get home, late, unexpectedly She’s still awake and watching TV.
I sit to unwind with a whisky.
She goes to bed.
The day has been uncomfortably hot and the night is expected to be no different.
When I get to bed, She’s still awake, and unusually, although She is modestly covered by the bed sheets, I can see She’s not wearing a nightshirt.
The light goes off.
She snuggles up close and wraps Herself around me.
My hackles rise.
Her: Say if you just want to get some sleep, but I so you know, I am feeling horny.
She leant on the phrase. Like She was correcting someone else’s assertion.
Me: I want to get some sleep.
I did. I really did.
Silence. Stillness. Uncertainty.
Without a word, She rolls away and leaves me alone.
I get some sleep.

Saturday morning.
It’s early. It’s been a hot night. At something like 5:30am I’m lying with the duvet pushed aside, and my erection twitching in the thick morning air. I lie there for an hour or so.
Before She wakes and we have to uncomfortably avoid the reality of me not wanting to have sex when She did, I make get up and make my escape to the kitchen.
I make a cup of tea.
I don’t have a wank.

6 Responses to “A week is a long time in sex.”

  1. This is all painful to read and must have been even more painful to read.
    The sex reads like a rape. You didn’t want it, had make it known and still, she ‘forced’ you to. That’s probably why it’s so painful to read!

    I don’t even know what else to say. Courage?

    • I think I must a misrepresented the sex.
      She wanted it. I always want it but I don’t want the hassle of all the crap that goes with it for us.
      The fact that it was forceful, I don’t see that as negative. Far from it. The fact that She seems now to like forcefully sex (She didn’t think it was rough sex, and She’s right) kind of shows She actively likes sex. That She’s not just ambivalent. She likes to be fucked hard and it makes Her cum. This is good.
      What’s not good is that I feel a need to escape from situations where I’d get sex, which is what I crave.
      It’s all a bit fucked up, but that’s nothing new.

    • Ok, let me explain my stance.
      I don’t think you raped her. That’s not the way it read. You did represent it properly.
      Rape doesn’t ne essarily involve force. It involves using all sorts of means to disregard lack of consent. If you said no and someone pushed you to have sex nonetheless and all the time you were having sex you wished you weren’t, that is rape. If it is not pleasurable for you, you spend all the time thinking ‘when will it stop’, even if you’re the one doing the action, it is rape.
      So I wasn’t suggesting the sex you described sounded like you raping her.
      But it felt like you being raped. Like your desires not being taken into account.

      See, this brings me back to my marriage. I almost always want/crave sex, as you know. But while married, I tried to avoid it because of all the crap it was followed by the next day (even more abuse, put downs, disregard…).
      The repercussions of having (unsatisfying for me anyhow) sex just weren’t worth the deed.
      So I lay there and prayed he’d get there quickly (he never worried about my pleasure anyhow, or only tried ONE trick, during which I better play the movie of one or two fantasies in my head if I wanted to come).
      Most of the time I felt like a blow-up doll who was simply used for his benefit.
      And now… I’ve realised this is close to rape, as often there were ‘nos’ being uttered on my part, and he’d ignore them and still go for it, or he’d try to blame me for saying I want sex but then saying no…
      And this is what your recount of the sex felt like. You not really wanting to, but her shaming you jnto it, and you just hoping it would stop soon.
      It doesn’t sound like you making love to her because you want to, but almost you being used as a giant (and animated blow-up doll) for her benefit.
      That’s what I meant.

    • I had thought through both possibilities and I understand the suggestion. But there was nothing non consensual involved. No matter what it seems like from the outside, from the inside, from me, there was no corrosion. Persuasion, perhaps. Aquiesence, maybe. A lack of empathy, probably. But there absolutely was not anything abusive.
      And I was, as per the second Friday night, perfectly able to say no. I just chose not to.

  2. Oki laughed my ass off at Yr Saturday night, damn those butterflies 🙂 but I can only see good things here, sex is happening and with sex comes a closer relationship so all good or..

    • Bloody lepidoptera.
      It’s tough to say it’s positive. Is it better than nothing? If it’s on going indefinitely, maybe. If it’s the same old story …? Who knows. Not I.

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