I hear Andrew grown and not so silently swear over the popping of various joints as he gets up to shut off our alarm. Another day, another 6:30 am wake up.
I roll over to admire his naked ass and cuddle our toddler while Andrew blearily stumbles into the bathroom to begin his morning ablutions. I enjoy some more asleep-toddler snuggles before dragging myself out of bed and into my workout clothes. I’ll let Corrin sleep until after my workout this morning. His 2:30 a.m. sneak into our bed was not as successful as his toddler reasoning probably thought.
Andrew and I trade places in the bathroom, and he makes his way out to the kitchen to start breakfast. We fall easily into our morning routine. He fixes our morning meal while I pack his lunch and snacks for the day. Normal stuff. Routine. He’ll leave in 30 minutes or so, and won’t be back until tonight. Bored, I plop down on the couch to catch up on Facebook BS—my latest terrible habit.
“… Hey… Weefee…Hey!” through a fog, I realize he must have been talking to me for some time, probably about what his workday looks like, plans for tonight, and likely a query about my day plan.
I tear away from my phone to see him looming over me, his expression intense. He must be frustrated. We’ve talked about this—being more present with each other—and here I went and checked out. Again. “I’m sorry.” I put down the phone.
Before I can ask him to repeat what he’d said earlier, Andrew was suddenly right in my space. His expression even more intense, if that were possible. “Are you?” he stretches out the first word as he sinks down to his knees beside the couch. There’s a teasing lilt in his voice and maybe a flicker of hurt or annoyance, I’m not sure. But there’s also a conniving glint in his eye. Uh oh. I’m about to get tickled until I shriek and beg for mercy. I just know it. No less than what I deserve, I think—but that’s not what happened.
Suddenly he’s kissing me. We have a habit of air smooching, blowing kisses, or giving each other light pecks as we come and go in each other’s direction throughout the time we’re both home, but this—! This was full blown, hot makeout kissing, something, in my opinion, that we don’t do nearly as often as we should. I have the same opinion of sex, but being in our 30s, having a toddler, working full-time, dealing with the stress of a pandemic, and handling the upsetting reality of watching both sets of our parents age and deal with their health problems has hit our shared libido and sex life pretty hard. I realize that I can’t remember the last time we had sex. I’m in the middle of making a mental note to put more effort into romancing things up when he slips his hand into my shorts. Any and all mental faculties blue screen and blink out of existence. I want him, and I want him NOW.
Our tongues wrestle for dominance, a battle I am inevitably losing to his fingers as he winds me up. I think I split my lip. I can taste blood, but that just ignites me. I’m so slick he easily navigates my slit.
A chuckle rumbles from his chest as I break away to pant for air. Andrew is smirking at me. And then, he slips a finger inside me, twists his hand, then adds another digit at just the perfect angle. I writhe on the couch cushions as he alternates thrusting his fingers into me, and circling my clit. He’s at a weird angle while he kisses me from his position beside me, but I’m no less on fire. It’s only minutes as I get closer and closer to falling over the edge, but time stretches deliciously around us before I clamp my hands over my mouth to catch my scream. I’m very loud when we make love, the reason we always banish our son far from whatever room we’re in when it happens. Andrew’s still smirking a few minutes later when he withdraws his hand from my shorts after another, even more intense orgasm. I’ll make him pay for that.
I yank him back down by the front of his shirt for more making out. I definitely split my lip this time, but now is so not the time to care. Clothing is discarded in a blur, his and mine. And suddenly he’s pressing me down into the couch cushions, lining his cock up to push inside me. I’m panting again. We both are, breath mingling as we exchange hurried, fierce kisses. I’m probably leaving big, red scratches on his back as I clutch him, but I’m lost to the sensation of being filled, repeatedly, as he thrusts in and out. Sex with Andrew never gets old. I am able orgasm multiple times and he always makes sure I have a good one. The count is up to two. I wonder how many more I can have this time.
I hook one ankle over the back of the couch and plant the other on top of the coffee table to better meet his thrusts. He feels enormous today, and I am reveling in it. I’ll probably be a tad sore later, but right now I don’t give a shit. I definitely need to put more effort into romancing him…
My brain shuts up again when he closes him mouth over my right nipple. He rolls it around with his tongue, gently gnaws, then soothes with slow suckles. The pleasure of it ripples through me all the way down to my clitoris. He slows down his thrusting, drawing out our pleasure, and releases my nipple with a wet pop.
“I love you,” he says, suddenly. The words, even after eight years together, send a bolt of electricy from my head to my toes and ignite butterflies in my stomach.
“I love you too,” I gasp.
Our eyes lock. I feel like he can see ALL of me. Every inch. Inside and out. It’s like being naked in a completely different way. That’s why I married him. He has always given me 100% of himself and inspired me to do the same. We’re helpmates, in it for life.
He let’s out a soft moan, then drops his mouth to suckle my other breast, picking up his pace again. We’re both so close. I’m clutching him, trying to get as close as possible as he pounds me into the couch. I don’t know I was screaming again until he seals my mouth with his hand.
As stupid as it sounds, I see stars when I come undone. He rears back, sitting on his heels. My hands replace his over my mouth as he rides out my orgasm with deep, firm thrusts from the new angle and I try to keep my volume as low as possible. My legs feel like jelly. He notices and starts pulling up me up to him by grasping my hips. I desperately hope I can have another orgasm before he finishes. I can feel a big one building.
It’s almost a frenzy now. We’re both slick with sweat. The couch is rattling. How is our son still asleep? My brain misfires to wonder why I think I need to workout everyday when I can just have amazing sex with this man instead. I lose all comprehension when he slips his left hand between us to swipe his thumb along my clit as he continues to drive into me.
Yes! I’m seeing stars again and feel the heat and fullness as he follows, spilling into me. Final, enjoyable half thrusts cause delightful flares of pleasure as we settle from the high. Slow, gentle kisses and murmured I love yous follow as we languish just a little bit longer. He voices the same thought I had earlier about working out. Then we notice Corrin is making his wake up noises in the next room. I guess I was quieter than I thought.
Andrew braces himself above me for a second so I can catch my breath. I glance at the clock. He needs to leave in 5 minutes, but I also need to apologize for ignoring him earlier.
“I thought you were mad at me about the phone,” I start.
He’s smirking once more. “I was. Then I thought about getting revenge.”
Ah, I thought. He was going to wind me up, then leave me waiting for it all day, wanting more.
“But then I decided incentive was better.” His voice was bubbly, happy, and teasing as he grinned down at me. I couldn’t argue with that idea.
Another day. A fantastic, and decidedly NOT boring 6:30 am wakeup. Incentive indeed.
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