We’ve hit the wall, folks, the wall of overflowing satisfaction. Sex everyday is sucking our souls, in both a good and bad ways.
After a nice dinner and chatting like best friends at the future RV resort property over wine and between sweet validations of our continued appreciation for one another, we descended into bed like friends too. We hugged and kissed and touched each other’s bodies, but something we different. Desire wasn’t oozing from our pores, not his and definitely not mine.
“Nope. I don’t want to have sex tonight,” I finally admitted crossing my legs tight under the covers feeling the need to communicate what seemed like a mutual understanding.
“I don’t feel like it either,” my husband said almost relived to know I wasn’t going to push our 365-day challenge agenda.
We’d had a great night, a night of talking and hand holding. We shared a great burger from our favorite burger joint. At some point he turned to me during dinner and said that I was so unbelievably gorgeous and he was glad he made me his.
We’ve accomplished what our sex challenge was suppose to do. We are closer, more thoughtful about our time together and brimming with oneness. Forcing ourselves to have sex when we both are feeling completely satisfied seems silly if not counter-productive.
I kiss him good night and turn out the light.
“Will you swallow my cum, though?” he asked like a secret in the dark.
“Sure, if you want,” I responded feeling good enough to give. I turned back to his body, felt his chest with one hand and whispered a few sexy thoughts in his ear. “I wrote about Fantasy Fest in yesterday’s blog.”
His hand started stroking, “oh yeah? Tell me more.”
“I wrote about that girl getting her pussy painted,” I said nibbling his ear and kissing down his neck. My hand fell to his crotch and rubbed the hair around his dick.
“That girl? You mean you?” He snickered.
I bent down to his dick and let him into my mouth. Down my throat he went with a brief moan coming from his mouth.
“Wow that feels good, sweetheart. You were so sexy in Key West.”
I can’t talk while I give head, so he filled in the silence with a story. He talked about my dancing on the bar and what it would be like now that I have these huge gorgeous breasts to bounce around.
His dick hardened when we talk about them, and his hand reached down to touch them as if to say they’re mine.
“I still have those pasties,” I said as he replaced his hand where my mouth had been.
“Oh, I’ll buy you another pair. I loved seeing that woman put them on you. Fuck, let’s go back this year. I want to show you off, you sexy girl you” he said getting hotter by the stroke.
His jerking was fast and meaningful. I knew I’d be tasting cum in a moment or two. I nodded and smiled and showed him by tongue and pinched my nipple. He is so dreadfully excited by my body, so I turned on my back, spread my legs and started massaging my clit.
“You fucking whore, you. I’m going to show your pussy off, my pussy, and I’m going to fuck you in front of everyone.”
I rubbed and rubbed and felt a slight sensation trying to build, but the intensity just wasn’t there. My body was happy, light, and relaxed, but not horny. No judgement, though, was the best feeling of all. Letting the lack of desire be made the moment all the more authentic and free.
He didn’t cum either. I refused to give him my pussy, and his hand wasn’t working, my mouth wasn’t good enough, our stories didn’t serve their purpose. We fell asleep like two best friends curled up and at peace, fully satisfied with ourselves and each other. We were one in spirit, in love and truly at ease.