Just for a moment, my mind went back to Chris. Went back to the hard and difficult feelings and conversations Dave and I had endured these last two weeks. Went back to the quiet moments at work when I missed my now ex-boyfriend.
These moments had been hard, just as I knew Dave had his share of similar times. And today was a case in point. Lying here with the man I loved. Stretching and luxuriating like a truly contented cat, enjoying that satisfied feeling of another hour before we had to finally raise ourselves and start rejoining the world. Getting ready for a day with a different tone and different pleasures. I wrapped my arms around her and despite her condition gave her an extra special, extra tight hug.
With just a hint of extra care in recognition of the precious cargo she carried within. Not so smart as to avoid accidentally knocking her up, but smart enough to turn it all around into the prospect of a Spring-Summer wedding.
One child happily settled with a great life partner, a wonderful celebration of their love at Church and a quality reception. And then the prospect of a Christmas or New Year addition to the family. This weekend was going to be a great weekend. Our twin daughters Abigail and Sarah summoned back from college on pain of death for a proper family get together. The anti-venom to remind us of the best things in life.
Six months of gorging on chocolates replaced by the healthy sugar-rush of family life. That weekend with John, Becky, Abigail, and Sarah in the house was a magical weekend. Without the everyday frictions of family life, the kids got on with each other. Shared meals, evenings out and time just chilling together. Moments when Dave and I just looked on from the sidelines, holding each other and feeling the most unique human happiness of watching them and knowing he and I had created this bubbling, laughing family unit.
Four about to become Five. It was a wonderful weekend in its own right. One of those four or five events that all families have in their memory locker. But in a different way, it was exactly what Dave and I needed to give our reconnection a final boost. After two weeks of daily tears, shouting, talks and more tears.
Our recovery process as we talked through and tried to understand what had happened in the last weekend with Chris, and in the weeks and months leading up to that crisis. I was well aware of the husbandly eyes watching my every move. As I hooked the fasteners at the back, adjusted the straps and then made an exaggerated showing of adjusting the globes of my boobs to sit comfortably in the cups of my bra. More than aware that every little move was having the desired effect, making my over-worked and newly worshipful husband harder and hungrier. What do you think, honey?
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What do you think? So predictable. At least he was when he was being played by a loving but teasing master. Or should I say, mistress. Each tingling kiss making me shiver as vertebra by vertebrae he worked his way higher. Making me moan and sigh, closing my eyes as I enjoyed the wonderful touch of the man who loved me so much. Of the man I loved so much.
Not after more than twenty years together. But the truth we both knew and had often discussed was that the highs and lows of the last few months had given us a new zest and desire for each other. It was as if our personal fairy godmother had waved her wand and sprinkled some pixie dust, magically transported us back more than twenty years ago. In fact, this was actually better than twenty years ago.
But now there were no such brakes or reservations to apply. I could throw myself body and soul into the wonderful love-making we were about to enjoy. Of course, there had been plenty of difficult times too.
What had happened on that painful Friday night with Chris had cut too deep not too leave scars and hurt. But for the most part, Dave and I managed to look on the positive side. And tonight was a perfect example. Sometimes the pain was still there, but tonight Dave and I were determined to enjoy our newly dewed-eyes and besotted love for each other.
- The Husband Stitch | Carmen Maria Machado | Granta Magazine.
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I never tired of the look I saw on his face as he sank into me until he could go no further and his hips bumped against mine, his groin hard against me as he sought purchase and leverage even to go just a fraction further in. Finally giving up and starting the slow and fulfilling in and out of a man making love to his woman.
Making love to her and fucking her in equal measure. Each stroke deep, each pullback an expression both of two love birds and at the same time a statement of the male possessing his female. Cock-blocking any other male who might be in the neighborhood, making sure that it would only be his selfish-genes, his DNA that found the egg of the welcoming and available female.
As Dave slid himself in and out of me I was truly in heaven. Smiling inwardly to myself and no doubt outwardly at my good fortune to have found and kept such a wonderful friend and lover.
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Smiling as I knew in my heart that his love and performance were driven to new levels by what had happened and, even now, by what he perceived as the competition that was still there from Chris. Chris may have been a ghost, thousands of miles away in California. And while this was true, as Dave picked up speed and started pounding me with a raw and animalistic passion, all thoughts of the past were swept away. Holding me tight in love and through his need to totally possess me.
To send his seed deep, to plug it in me, no doubt imagining it doing its work and making our child number four for our family. An imagined wish only negated by the historic reality of a vasectomy three years after we welcomed Abigail and Sarah into the world. Having occupied me with his seed and pleasuring me with a wonderful climax as a happy by-product, my gasping husband then sought to crush me to death as he collapsed on top of me.
Not the worst way to die. I kissed him tenderly and managed to shift his weight just enough to stop the crush but still enjoy his weight on top of me. Someone was hungry and horny tonight. Dirtybitpodcast Chronicles Of LicketySplit 1st3sum pt3. Dirtybitpodcast Chronicles Of LicketySplit 1st3sum pt2.
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- The Husband Stitch.
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