Different
I had my life pictured so differently.
It was a motley gathering in the gym of an Alma Mater shared by us all. We were assembled together to celebrate the life of a local hero who had given his life saving another. He would be forever remembered, honored, and missed. I stood among people I had known most of my life. I smiled, nodded, and exchanged pleasantries with more than a few old friends.
People naturally congregate into their own age groups at these things, but I’ve always respected the generations ahead of me. So I headed toward a group of my elders. I stumbled upon an older couple that had been a fixture in my life from a young age. As he talked, I reminisced over how he had tried to influence my life. I wished I had done a better job of listening. His wife was warm and kind, and they took turns talking. I noted the loving interaction between husband and wife. There was a touch here, a smile there, and a look that conveyed some secret only they shared. I was moved with both admiration and longing.
We said our goodbyes, and as I moved past the younger couples, I was hit with a wave of melancholy. Their eyes held hopes, dreams, and a drive that looked toward a bright future. I thought of us at that age and remembered having those same hopes and dreams. Dropping my head, I prayed silently for theirs to come true.
I had my life pictured so differently.
Moving on, my eyes fell to a woman I had loosely known for more than 30 years. She had always been a bit of an enigma. Our families had been friends, but our personal paths had rarely crossed. Her brown eyes pierced mine with a look I couldn’t discern. It wouldn’t have been odd, except that in all our encounters, she always given me the exact same look. I never knew if it was anger or empathy, like or dislike. Then a new thought came to mind and made me shudder. What if she had always seen through me?Maybe it was empathy.
I found my place as the service began. It was thoughtful, appropriate, and tearful at times as one after another shared some memory. I left, both glad to have known him, and sorry that he was gone. When I arrived home, she was waiting. There was another argument; so close, it could have been a carbon copy of the last one. I got into bed later than usual; physically and mentally exhausted, I prayed for sleep to come quickly.
I arose groggy and tired. The coffee helped, but only slightly. I didn’t have much time when I stepped into the shower, but my cock looked up at me with need. I stroked him a couple of times and reveled in the sensations, but I couldn’t be late for work. He was still hard when I zipped my pants and walked out the door.
The drive was dark, rainy, and didn’t help my mood at all. The radio offered worship music, but it didn’t soothe me. I was overwhelmed with an all too familiar sickness, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Work was a bear. I walked into a pile, and it didn’t get any better. My boss gave me a sympathetic look towards the end of the day. I knew tomorrow wouldn’t be any different.
The station sent more waves of praise on the drive home. The wipers noisily cleared away the relentless droplets. “God Only Knows” came through the speakers, and I cried.
I had my life pictured so differently.
I parked, and as always, I hesitated at the front door. With a deep sigh, I twisted the knob and was overwhelmed by the scent of frying meat. It was still too soon to tell. I cleared the obstacles to the kitchen and my ears were greeted with singing. Maybe. She smiled when she noticed me and rose to her toes to kiss me.
“I missed you today.”
”I missed you, too.”
Dinner was pleasant, and the conversation flowed with relative ease. I helped clear the table, then it was on to the living room. She likes this movie so much, and I honestly don’t know why. I don’t like it at all, but I can almost quote it. The evening rolled on, and it was time for showers. I went first. When I finished, I propped up the pillows, immersed myself in a novel, and totally lost track of the time.
The door opened and when I looked up, my mouth fell open. A lot of lace and not a lot of lace greeted me at the same time. I was immediately hard. I made eye contact and noticed her makeup. Her mascara was dark and smoky, her cheeks all but glowed, and her lips were shiny red. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and her hips swayed to my side of the bed. Black stockings encased her creamy legs. Her toes sparkled through the sheer fabric, colored with the same red as her lips. My cock drooled.
She lifted the covers and slid in next to me. No words were spoken as she simultaneously kissed me and slid one hand under my boxers. Her lips and tongue fought briefly for supremacy with mine, but when I rolled on top, she submitted. Overwhelmed by what lay under me, I kissed a slow path down her neck. The lace fell away when I reached her breasts, and for a while, I just licked and sucked. Her moans and my need drove me further down and her legs opened with needy anticipation.
Her scent overwhelmed me and I opened the snaps to uncover her treasure. I ate her with the fervor of a man long denied. She thrashed from side to side; both begging me to stop, and begging me not to. When my tongue finally relented, her lips were swollen and red. Her clit stood throbbing from underneath its hood, and she was totally breathless. I placed my body on hers, kissed the streaks running down each cheek, then again claimed her mouth with mine.
She wrapped her legs around me, trying desperately to pull my hips to hers. Then she reached between us and lined my cock up with her hole. I was sheathed in one movement and we moaned in sync. She raised both hands above her head, crossed her wrists, and said words that unraveled me. “Don’t be gentle with me baby.”
Pure, unadulterated sex followed. All the hurt I had ever felt melted away as the union between our bodies healed and intertwined our souls. Both spent, we lay in a sweaty heap, smiling and stroking the other’s cheek. I had never felt more connected with her than I did in that moment.
I awoke sometime later to find moonlight filtering into the room. She was laying beside me in her long nightshirt. The novel was still open on my lap, and soaked boxers clung to my skin.
I had my life pictured so differently.
I wanted to cry when I got to the end of this. Oh, KingdomMan, you are still in my prayers. I grieve that your marriage looks like this. I wrestle with why marriages between Christians should end up so dead when it can't be God's will. Have you had any success with finding personal counseling? Having someone to unburden yourself to and receive wisdom from is so necessary. I'm not even married and I have gone for counseling. I continue to lift you and your wife up to the Throne and ask the Lord to rebuke Satan and send him scuttling out of your marriage.
You’re very kind LLL, thank you. I don’t understand it either, and just to be completely honest for a minute, I don’t understand how the situation got like this, or how it has lingered for so long. There are some things I haven’t shared, and I don’t know that I will, but I know if my behavior was similar, The Lord wouldn’t let me get away with it. His plan and His will are both perfect though, and I seek to trust Him with all my heart.
I have not been able to seek counseling, not because I don’t want to, but because it’s just so difficult given the situation.
I’m glad that you have taken preparing yourself so seriously. You are becoming a Godly wife right now and your husband will rise up and call you blessed.
Thank you for your continued prayers. I need them more than you know.
KingdomMan – your posts are painful to read. I so wish your wife could read your post – not just read them but READ THEM and act on them. I also wish I could give you worthwhile advice or answers, but my situation is so different from yours that anything I'd say would be shallow. You do have my prayers brother.
Thank you Frankie. I hope if anything, my posts will help others in some way. I genuinely appreciate your prayers. Please don’t stop
I have come to love your writing, KM, yet with a deep sadness that intimacy in your marriage only reflects Christ's sorrow at His being rejected by one of His lost sheep. While my marriage of over 47 years is not perfect, we both are committed to Him and to each other, and our intimacy continues to each strive towards the blessing of the other as much as possible. I have been and will continue to be praying for you, brother, in His love and by His grace.
Thank you Rufus. I deeply appreciate your comment. I’m also very happy that you and your wife are so committed to Christ and to each other. I can’t thank you enough for your prayers.
Wow, KingdomMan, I'm crying inside reading this and being reminded what my first marriage was really like. When she passed away (three years ago now), I was hot to trot to write a book about the two of us. I may yet, but if and when I do, there will be no sugarcoating of the bad parts. That, at least, is one promise to myself that I'll keep. Better no book at all than some idealized, fantasized version of what never was. This story helps remind me.
All three of my posts (which is all of them so far on MH) have on the same theme, and gradually I'm understanding why. Reading this helps me in this regard, too, so yes, even though I am now a deeply fulfilled, happily (re-)married man (the current one insists on deleting the "re" part), it helps me too. I only wish there was more I could do, but just know that when I say I know how you feel, I mean: I know how you feel. Those first six years of my first one cannot make up for 20 more of chronic clinical sexlessness.
You can be certain that you have my prayers.
Hi Maxlove,
I really appreciate your comment. I’m sorry that your first marriage was so bad, but I’m very happy are “now a deeply fulfilled, happily (re-)married man”.
You should definitely write that book. I think you will find it to be deeply therapeutic and you need to remember to feel what you feel as you’re doing so.
I can’t thank you enough for your prayers. Please don’t stop.
I too am grateful for your stories! I for one, do believe your posts make a difference. You are an amazing man and I am extremely blessed to read your stories and also your comments. Thank you for allowing yourself to be so vulnerable.
Thank you Mokey! I’m glad you’re blessed by my stories. I try my best.
KingdomMan, it wasn't all bad. But parts of it were, especially at or near the end, and the sexless part which I endured for two decades (with a handful of welcome interruptions). But the details are probably best left to a group or site for couples or widow(-ers), whether current or former. Or to the book.
One thing: it has taken marriage to a sometimes brutally honest woman with more practical sense, and who not only loves me, but *likes* me. This, to expose the bad parts which I had been too blind to see that. I do not believe in separating "liking" and "loving", in marriage in particular, and avoid theological debates about these things like the plague.
Anyway, enough of that rant and semi-clarification, and thanks again for your story, and others like it. All the best!
Maxlove, This resonates, “This, to expose the bad parts which I had been too blind to see that.”
I remember very clearly what did this for me. I needed my eyes opened, but having the understanding also makes living in the same situation all the more difficult.