The conversation with my friend lasted past midnight. By the time I got home, it was 12:30 and I was exhausted. I set up Belle’s coffee for the morning and plopped into bed. And laid there. And laid there some more. I cursed my hormonal state and tried to think about things that usually make me go to sleep, but no dice. Every time I moved, I could feel the penis shift or graze the sheets and the small flame in my brain would flare briefly and refuse to extinguish. Two o’clock ticked by. Three o’clock. I may have fallen asleep sometime between 4:00 and 5:00, but it was useless restless sleep and Belle was up around 5:15. That was that. Just another night in the life of the habitually denied.
Yesterday was awful. I had the trainer at 7:00 and it was the worst session since I started going. Even worse than the first few when I was certain death was descending upon me. I struggled through that and the rest of the day, slogging zombie-like though meetings and the young one’s choir concert until bedtime. As exhausted as I was, it was our last night together for two weeks. The penis was out. I was super horny. I had high hopes that she’d let me come. Unfortunately, I was grumpy.
Of course, it had been nearly 40 hours since I last slept, so the random bullshit of life was annoying me and Belle was spending a lot of time doing small things elsewhere while I was thinking about using toothpicks to keep my eyelids open. By the time she got to bed, my tone was decidedly un-bunny-like. Thankfully, she persisted until I snapped out of it. Going to bed mad that night would have created very bad juju indeed.
After some talking about my trip and a few other things (like my friend, whose new insight into our relationship she didn’t know about until then), she pulled up her top and told me I could give her an orgasm. I rubbed my face against her breasts in my sleep-deprived stupor, feeling her nipples graze against my nose and lips. Heaven.
“How do you want to come?” I asked dreamily.
“In the usual manner.”
“The penis is right here,” I pushed its hardness against her thigh to help demonstrate its proximity and preparedness.
“I know.”
“…” Gah!
“I’ve come to appreciate your other talents.”
So that’s that then. I was there, hard and unlocked, with my wife whose historical preferences strongly leaned toward penetrative pleasure, and she was choosing my fingers. My built-in equipment was redundant and not preferred.
“And you’re not going to come.”
“I’m not?”
“Nope. And I don’t want you coming while you’re gone.”
“Oh. I was sure you were going to let me come tonight.”
“I know.”
So then I got her off. The penis was throbbing but the best it got was rubbing up against her leg while my fingers danced across her clitoris and my tongue flicked across her nipple. It was painful. As her desire rose and her hips moved against my hand, palpable sensory phantoms of the penis sinking into her hot wetness flashed like bombs in my head. I wanted in her so bad. I wanted to fuck. The craving for an orgasm was ringing though me. The lizard of my sexuality roared in its cage but the rabbit was in control and, though sweating profusely, made sure I performed my part of our sexual dynamic so that Belle’s satisfaction was maximized.
After she came and while she was basking in the afterglow, I moaned pitifully with the stupid stiff penis quivering against her.
“That’s not going to move me, you know.”
“I really want to be inside you. I really want to come.”
“You’re not going to.”
After a few quiet moments, she got up to use the bathroom and left me to clutch the unnecessary hardness. I laid across the warmth of the spot where she just came trying to catch any lingering energy she may have left behind.
“Move over.”
I did and then moved back, clutching her from behind and holding her and smelling her and needing her.
“I don’t want to you staying up all night tomorrow looking at porn. You need to rest before your long drive.”
“But I like porn.”
“I know.”
I pressed into her more intently. Jesus god, the desire was incredible within me.
“You can stay there as long as you’re not annoying. If you don’t behave, I’m sending you to the other side of the bed.”
I stopped squirming as best I could. We laid there, breathing together. I was still raging inside, but the massive bulk of sleeplessness was crushing my desires, compressing them into diamonds.
“Thank you, Belle Fille. Thank you for giving me what I need instead of what I ask for.”
“I know you, Thumpie. Good night.”
“Good night.”
And I slept.
Is it weird that I found this, well, kind of romantic?
I think it’s massively romantic in its own way.
Glad I’m not *completely* out in left field.