I make sure a pillow is close by, as well as a box of tissues, and lie on my back. I opt to keep my shirt on, he knows I prefer to keep it on to cover myself.
He quickly shucks off his pants and boxers, giving himself a rough couple of strokes while he bites his lower lip and takes me in.
Lowering over me, he runs his hand up my thigh and grabs my ass. “So sexy.”
Without another word he plunges his cock deep inside me and all the air is stolen from my lungs with a quick gasp. It feels amazing when Trent fills me, and he does it so perfectly, so fully and completely.
It’s not that sex is bad or lackluster, albeit a touch vanilla. It’s that I’m just not interested until he makes me realize otherwise. Like tonight had he just asked, I would have said no. But he didn’t ask, he made some smooth moves and I turned to putty beneath his hands and could think of nothing else than his cock inside me.
And now I’m happy he made the moves he did.
As he slowly moves in and out of me, I start to truly loosen, the muscles in my whole body untensing. Being beneath Trent has that affect on me. He encases me completely, and all I can see and smell and breathe is Trent. The sage scent he has all the time wafts into my nose any time we’re this close, and immediately I know I’m home.
His thrusts pick up in speed, and my hands latch to his shoulders. I bite my lip to keep my noises at a low decibel. We don’t need any of the kids upstairs hearing our activities. It gets difficult and complicated once kids get involved.
Dipping his hips, he starts reaching deeper inside me and my sounds start to get louder. As much as I try, I just can’t be quiet. It only became a problem when we had Jessica.
I grab the pillow and hold it over my face as my head tips back with a loud moan, and I clamp down on his cock, coming hard.
But he’s not done yet, slowing instead of picking up speed. Once my breathing is more normal, he pulls out and flips me to my stomach, pulling my ass up in the air and diving back inside me.
I grip the blanket and groan into the pillow. He knows my favorite and uses it to his advantage.
One of Trent’s favorite things to do is make me come. He’ll edge himself for twenty minutes if he needs to, just to make sure I come at least once. It’s become harder since having the kids to always have an orgasm, and there are times I just can’t. But he always tries, always works his hardest to make sure I come first. Both literally and figuratively.
Taking my hips in his hands, he starts thrusting hard and fast, my body jolting forward with each slam in. I grip the blanket and pillow, biting at it as I sink my face into it to cover the sounds I’m making.
One last loud moan and I tighten around him, his fingers gripping my hips as he groans and slams himself into me a few more times before pulsating inside me.
His top half collapses over mine and we fall to the ground, a panting sweaty heap. He reaches over me and grabs a handful of tissues to help clean things up. It’s another thing he’s good at, the aftercare.
Once things are taken care of, he lies on his back and pulls me down to his chest. We’re both naked from the waist down, but I’ll take a few minutes to snuggle and hope we don’t get caught.
He kisses the top of my head while holding the back of it with one hand. “I love you. You know that right?”
I nod against his chest and throw an arm over it so I can squeeze myself into his side. “I love you too.”
“It’s hard sometimes. We don’t have the time or energy to show each other anymore. And I know I haven’t made as much of an effort in recent years because work and the kids are just exhausting. But I love you so much, Les.”
“I know you do. And I’m just as guilty.”
“It’s part of why I’m excited for the reunion. A night for it to be just us, no worry about the kids. And we can be as loud as we want.” His fingers dig into my side as he tickles me, and I giggle.
“The rest of it is the part I’m not looking forward to. I’m excited to have some time alone with you, even if I’ll be worried about the kids. It’s hard to leave them, even in the very capable hands of Becca.” It’s nearly impossible. Not that I want my kids to be sick, but part of me is secretly hoping that one of them comes down with something so I can stay home.
“They’re going to be fine. Charlie is by far the easiest baby, and the girls are old enough now to go do sleepovers and things at other places. Plus, Becca is super protective of them.” He’s got a point there. She’s been known to go mother bear when she hears something bad happened to one of “the babies” as she likes to call them. All three of them are “the babies” to her.
“You’re right. I know you are. It’s just hard to let go sometimes.” Or all the time. Sometimes it’s why I’m not okay going on dates. What if they need me? I don’t want to be absent too often and have them wonder why we’re gone. It’s irrational, especially considering I’m with them just about any waking second—and many non-waking—of the day except for when I have a PTA meeting or something else. I don’t even run errands without them unless I happen to go when they’re at school.
He takes my hand and kisses my palm. “I just miss you, Les. It’s been a long time since it’s been just us. Even for dinner. I know having kids can make things hard, but I wish we could implement date night again.”
Before Charlie was born, we had established a date night because the girls were finally at an age that I felt comfortable leaving them alone with a sitter or Becca. But Charlie’s my baby, and if things go accordingly, my last one. I can’t help that I keep him a little extra close to me and have some trouble leaving him for simple things like date night. He’s also my only boy and it’s true what they say about mothers and sons and fathers and daughters.
I snuggle further into his side and press my lips to his ribs. This is one of the times where Trent feeling like I’m perfect, putting me on that pedestal, makes me feel far superior. It’d almost be better if he just felt like I was only okay.
But the perfection part, it makes me feel like I’m letting him down when we don’t go on dates, when we barely have sex, when we get little to no time together. How can I be the perfect wife to him when I’m barely a wife at all? Sometimes it feels like we’re roommates who parent together. And I love him, far more than if he were just a roommate or somebody other than my husband, but I feel like it should go beyond that.
I should be able to make time with him a priority. And I just can’t seem to find a way to do that.
