0 comments/ 4553 views/ 1 favorites I Still Love You By: willandlynn Dear Will, I remember when I was a teenager . Young, fresh, innocent but also curious, observant and yearning. And when I met you and saw you my curiosity peaked, my yearning became overwhelming. I wanted you to hold me, to talk to me, to touch me . . . everywhere I hadn't been touched before by another person. And I wanted to touch you, to know you in a way I'd never known another person. You enthralled me. And then, you were gone. And I went on. But things turned ugly for a while in regards to men but then I met you again . . . an older version. Wiser, mature . . . and you took my breath away . . . again. And that yearning came back and I'm so glad you felt the same way about me. I still fantasize about the softness of your lips, the gentleness of your fingertips and my hand always makes its way down to my panties, wet with the thought of you. And slide in underneath and into my wetness, yearning for you to come home and take me. The thought of your taste, your hardness, the feel of you in my hand, inside me, the taste of you in my mouth. Spooning against me after we've made love. Holding me close. Safe. Warm. Happy. I wish I could know you that way. Deeper. I can't get enough of you. But I will settle for the pieces I can have. I have built a life separate from you but am now ready to include you in any way that works with our different lives now. Love, Lynn My dearest Lynn: Last night I thought about sleeping, just sleeping with you. I would love to be able to curl around you at my most vulnerable: naked and asleep. I would love to be wrapped around your back, dozing, hearing your happy sounds, or your sad ones, and cuddling you appropriately. Later on during the night, we might find ourselves at the whim of our bodies, with my maximum erection finding its way easily into your wide open vagina. As if we were bystanders, we would see our bodies locked together, acting independently of our minds. My fully rigid penis would be pistoning in and out of your slick passage, pushing against your cervix with each thrust, the head of my circumcised cock making a double thump at your vaginal introitus with each thrust. I would be pinching each of your nipples, testing the maximum pressure possible in order to find the line between pleasure/pain/discomfort. Even asleep, my brain would modulate the pressure to be right at the pleasure/pain border. Would this be the right time for our first anal play? If so, I would moisten my fingers and paint the entirety of your anus with my saliva, then begin pushing my cock, already slick with your sweet wetness, against your naughty hole. The pressure would feel heavenly to you, combined with my ministrations to your swollen button nestled within your wide open vagina. I gently push myself into you, harder when you were welcoming, more gently when you were spasming tighter. Eventually, it would be achieved, and you would gasp at the newfound sensation of my complete possession of you: my rigid cock in your backside, my fingers satisfying your swollen clitoris, and my other hand fondling your breasts, squeezing your nipples, and playing with your hair and mouth. Feeling calm now, I focus on your orgasm, listening to your body, finding the pathway to your release. Your cries induce me to a ?premature (how can it be premature, if I've waited decades?) eruption, but my erection remains intact afterwards, and I work hard to maintain my thrusting and stroking until you suffer la petite mort in my arms. We might glimpse the full moon shining through the window, then return to our shared slumber. By morning, we would find ourselves cuddled in our soft bed, unable to stop holding each other, until we talked of what the minimal hygienic requirements would be to enjoy breakfast at our favorite nearby restaurant. We help each other groom, then walk slowly and peacefully, hand in hand to the restaurant. A small rabbit marks us, pretending to be invisible. We stop and watch it, taking pleasure in its newness, its softness, and its wileyness. At the restaurant, the greeter agrees that it would be a perfect day to dine outside. Our usual server brings us coffee and sends our customary order to the kitchen, our closeness filling her with feelings of well-being. "I feel like I need a nap," you declare between bites of pancake. "OK," I agree, at the thought of a leisurely morning together in our bed. Your ever-loving, Will Dearest Will, My hand is on my panties, rubbing slowly back and forth . . . they are damp with the thought of you "squeezing and caressing" your new found erection. I can feel heat rise from my navel up to my breast, to my neck to my face . . .and my panties are getting wetter and wetter until I slip my fingers beneath them and crook two into my vagina and pulse them in and out thinking of your hard, erect cock. . . . My nipples are erect and with my other hand I circle one . . . .around and around, licking the tips of my fingers to try to imitate the movement of your tongue around them. I close my eyes and see your sweet face . . . Ok. I've got to stop. My husband is on his way home and I need to focus on my family. Make sure you are careful and not massaging your sweet cock in a place where your wife might notice, in a place you might be caught and have to explain. . . . I'm literally dripping . . . I really have to go sweet love. Another lifetime . . . And I can't wait to have you in my house, to be able to see you and talk to you and know you each time in a deeper way than before. Love, Lynn. My Dearest Lynn, Such a nice way to end the day and the week, feeling myself grow and respond to your amorous correspondence. My heart is pounding as well, but knowing my inability to control my autonomic nervous system when I'm reading your letters, I've been careful not to be caught in flagrante. And perhaps in another life, or in a parallel one, we have been, or are, in the same bed together, enjoying each others bodies as we relax and recalibrate. At which point, I'm certain that I would have to have my mouth on your other mouth, kissing and gently licking your secret lips, first through your damp panties, then without them. I know you love the feel of my hard yet yielding penis in your mouth and on your tongue, so I condescend to engage in the ritual of sixty-nine with you, even though your luscious ministrations actually distract me from my reverie as I kiss and lick your most treasured place. As my crisis nears, I feel neglectful towards my duties of following your response to my tongue, seeking to find the perfect rhythm, depth, and pressure. But you know me too well. After you 'force' me to spurt in and on your beautiful mouth, you know that I will dutifully return to my determined efforts to feel your orgasm surround me. Afterwards, we return to our kitchen duties, completing an elaborate meal for our families. Only the occasional pressing of my erection against your bottom betrays the fact that another bout of lovemaking lies in our near future. Your ever-loving, Will I Still Love You "Do you still love me?" Joanna's voice rippled through the silence of the evening. We'd been sitting in our bed, moments from turning our bedside lights off, when her query took the breath from within me. There was no conversation that led up to the question and we hadn't had a dispute in months. Not only was I floored by her need to even ask, I was confused to what brought it up in the first place. It was just a regular Tuesday evening. I turned to my wife of ten years searching for any clues I could find. Nothing was out of place. As she did every night for the past ten years, she had been reading before bed. She was sitting up, blankets bunched around her waist, with nothing out of the ordinary. The contrast in character presented by the combination of her silk nightgown and reading glasses had always been adorable to me, and tonight was no different. No different aside from the fact that she had been crying. Her eyes were clamped shut, tears clumping her lashes together. My heart constricted immediately. It's rather difficult to put into words all the things that ran through my mind in the three seconds it took for me to find my voice. I wondered how long she'd been crying and how I was able to sit right beside her without the slightest suspicion of her temperament. I questioned if she still loved me or if this was her way of hinting at a divorce. I thought back to every good time we'd had together and if I could even take care of myself without her being here. "Of course!" I nearly shouted. "Joanna, darling, what's going on?" I heard the slight hiccup in the back of her throat. That small croaking sound that let me know she had been trying to suppress her sobs for a while now and my heart continued to shatter. In that single moment I became very aware of how I'd failed my wife. I didn't know what exactly I did, but something or the lack of something had made her doubt my affections for her. I hadn't told her enough, supported her enough, or provided for her enough. Somehow, I had let her get to the point where she had to ask and that killed me inside. I could hear the shred of control she hung on to while she continued with her inquiry. "Are you cheating on me?" "God, no!" This time I did shout. "Baby, please believe me when I say that I have never laid a hand on another woman. You're all I could ever want, all that I need. Jo, please," I pleaded with her. By this time, I had turned on the bed, desperate to meet her gaze, to convince her that everything I said was true. I reached for her hands but she pulled them away from me. I tried to move in closer, but she only turned her back to me. I felt like I was poisonous or something. She countered every one of my advances with a retreat. How was I going to comfort and reassure her if I couldn't touch her? I watched with an aching heart as she flicked the lamp on her nightstand off and lay down. I heard the clink of her reading glasses being set down and felt the mattress give as she shifted into a comfortable position. Of course she was facing away from me, curled into a helpless little ball on the edge of the bed. I wanted so badly to reach out for her, but I didn't want to risk her leaving either. The last thing I could handle would be the sight of her walking out the door, so I settled down myself. The lump that had gathered in my throat wouldn't swallow. Ten years I had shared a bed with this woman, ten happy years. We had a home. We had a bright future together. I was certain that Joanna made me a better man. She had always been my support, my rock during the hard times. She'd also been that laughter and love that I required to get through each and every day. What was going on? After a fitful sleep, I was awoken by Joanna. She placed a cup of coffee on my nightstand like she did every morning and waltzed into the bathroom to fix her hair. I heard the mug hit the coaster and my eyes shot open. I had expected our normal routine to be anything but. Joanna, however, appeared to be unfazed by the inconclusiveness of the night before. "Thanks, baby," I yawned. I sat up in bed and soaked in the sight of her, much like I did every morning. She would be turning thirty-two in September and somehow she managed to look more beautiful now than she had the first day I laid eyes on her. Half dressed in her work trousers and bra, she brushed and styled her hair. She had those bountiful breasts of hers supported by the baby blue demi bra I'd purchased for her earlier this year, and had the events of the night been anything else, I would've slid up behind her to run a string of kisses along her shoulder. Last night, while lying sleepless in bed, I'd come to the conclusion that if Jo left, I'd just break. There wasn't a single aspect of my life that could continue on without her. I've heard many stories about couples marrying young and growing apart as they aged, but I was certain that we had been the exception. Jo was made to fill every void, fix every fault, and sooth every ailment I could ever have. I had always thought so. Always. The thought of losing that better half of me was eating me up inside and I knew something had to be done. I had to do something. Jo left the house before me, making little small talk as we both got prepared for the day ahead of us. I watched her for most of the morning, trying to quiet the fears that told me she wouldn't be coming home to me this evening. I ended up dragging my feet into the front door of my office ten minutes late and with my heavy heart in tow. I work for a realtor office. I get paid to update the online listings of each home, manage the three websites that run out of the office, and do most everything a normal IT person would. It's nothing fancy, but it's served me just fine for the past five years and I've given no thought to any change. Normally, my office is a quiet, relaxing place. It's an old, remolded home now furnished with cubicles and offices. My cubicle sits in the middle of the building so I get to watch the realtors parade their clients around, only an arm's length away should anyone need me. Today, I tried my hardest to ignore each happy couple purchasing a home. I ignored each greeting bestowed on me by my coworkers. What would it all mean if Jo left me? The sight of each couple would only make me bitter and each greeting would be laced with so much sympathy that I wouldn't be able to stomach it. "What the hell, Mark?" a stern shout interrupted my pity party. I looked up to see Penny, the youngest and probably the most abrasive realtor that the company had ever hired. She looked cross. "I've been trying to get your attention for twenty minutes now and you've done nothing but sit there looking sad. What the hell is wrong with you?" Penny had always had a straightforwardness that I always appreciated. She never lied, never beat around the bush, and always made her intentions clear. I knew she meant well despite sounding a little harsh. Penny had also been like a kid sister to me since she was hired on. She was always under foot and always prying into my life. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "It's Jo. I think she wants to leave me." Penny sat on the edge of my desk while I retold everything that had happened the night prior. I told her how I felt about my wife and how I would be nothing without her. I told Penny everything my wife was to me and every fear that had surfaced since the small conversation took place. She just sat there listening for the longest time, letting me get it all out of my system. When I had finished, I looked up to see a smug little smile playing across her face. "This isn't funny, Penny. This is my wife we're talking about," I snapped. It's interesting how one emotion can so easily lead to another, especially in their raw and more primitive states. My sorrow and loss felt for my wife had immediately turned into blind hatred. "Relax, big guy," Penny punched my shoulder and gave a small chuckle. "You're just an idiot, that's all." I huffed, literally exhaled like a raging bull towards Penny. "You're going to have to explain yourself there, missy." She laughed a little and pulled a chair from one of the other cubicles into mine. "It sounds like you guys have gotten stuck in a rut is all. If what you say is true, then your wife just needs to be reminded of how much you love her. Have you done anything special for her lately?" "I brought home those doughnuts that were leftover from that open house last week?" I countered, already knowing how stupid that sounded as it came out. Penny frowned. "That's not at all special. When was the last time you made your wife feel beautiful? Made her feel like she was a goddess?" I looked at Penny and thought back through last week, the last month, the last year. Had I ever told me wife that I thought she was a goddess? It's not difficult giving her the title, but I didn't think I had ever bestowed it upon her myself. I thought really hard about what the last thing that I did to make her feel special was, and considering I couldn't remember, I conceding to it being much too long ago. "Oh god, Penny. What do I do?" Penny cracked a smile and gave me a reassuring pat on the back. "What would you do if the president of the company came in today?" "Work hard," I answered without a second thought. "But you already meet all the expectations required of you. How would you show the president that you were perfect for this job and not another name on the payroll?" I thought about it for a bit. "I don't know. Maybe I could take a vested interest in the company, renew my passion for my work, so to speak. Perhaps I could talk to the president more and make myself known as a valuable player in the office team." Penny looked back at me like I was an idiot again, and this time I actually felt like one. "I'm pretty sure you can apply the same tactics to your wife and your marriage. Do you need me to lay it out for you?" she chided. "No," I moped back at her and watched as she rolled the chair back into the other cubicle and walked away. Penny was completely right. I needed to be more passionate about the relationship I had with my wife. I needed to make her a top priority again. She needed it from me desperately. I sat back in my seat trying to forge a plan. Jo was to have my undivided attention from now on. I dismissed the go-to ideas that most couples start with, feeling that Jo and I were too used to each other for the date nights and weekend getaways to do anything but provide another few pages in our scrapbook. I wanted our mending process to be intimate. I wanted to prove to her that I still worshiped the ground she walked on, that I still loved her more than life. I sat at my desk and made a list of all the things that occurred to me last night, all the things I wanted to fix. My wife would never have to ask for reassurance of my devotion again. As part of step one, I ran two errands on the way home from work. The first was to a beauty supply store. I enlisted the help of one of the attendants to find a good lotion for my wife. We ended up agreeing on an almond scented balm that smelt good enough to eat and would be extra moisturizing for that creamy skin of hers. The second errand was the grocery store. I picked up a carton of spumoni, her favorite ice cream. I had been nervous most of the day about whether or not Jo would be waiting for me when I got home. I promised myself before I turned the corner of our neighborhood, that if her car was in the driveway, I was going to treat it like a second chance and do everything in my power to woo her again. My heart leapt as I pulled into the driveway beside her car. I was even more excited when I walked through the door and smelt whatever it was she was cooking for dinner. "You're home late," she said, peering up over her cutting board. She held out a cube of cheese for me in her hand and I willingly took it from her, popping in my mouth with a smile. "I stopped by the store after work. I had a craving." I took my place next to her and placed an arm around her hip. Just as I expected, she tensed. That was the first thing on my list that I wanted to fix. I could not have my wife uncomfortable with me touching her. There was a time when she was my pet, eager to cuddle with me and putty beneath my fingertips. I wanted that back. Tonight I was going to fix that. I gave her hip another pat before removing my arm and running upstairs to get more comfortable. When I came back down, freshly showered and in my sweats, she was pulling the dish of baked macaroni out of the oven. I made a show of rubbing my stomach and growling. "Macaroni," I sighed. "My favorite dish made by my favorite wife." She smiled back, obviously happy with the fact that I acknowledged how well she took care of me, but looking a little unsure about something. I helped her ready the dishes and gather all the stuff for a side salad. We plopped ourselves down at the table and I put a huge serving of macaroni on my plate. Jo looked at me suspiciously. "Mark? You're really that hungry?" She normally made a little extra dinner each night so that I could pack some for my lunch the next day, but with the amount that was on my plate, there would be little more than a morsel to save. I nodded and shoveled the first fork full of macaroni into my mouth, being a little on the ridiculous side again and acting like a fool over the deliciousness of her cooking. I moaned while I chewed, closing my eyes to make a show of savoring the flavor. The act in itself was something I always used to do when we were dating. Being able to please a husband with her efforts in the kitchen was important to Jo, and those early years when she was trying out recipes on me were super fun. I used to get a kick out of making her blush from the compliments I would bestow on her cooking regardless of it being a hit or a catastrophe. For some reason, I had forgotten to do that lately. Tonight, however, I dove into my old habits with gusto. I forced forkful after forkful of macaroni into my mouth. I concentrated all my efforts on making a show of enjoying the food. At first it hadn't been difficult at all. Jo was a chef in the kitchen. After a while though, the carb overload was getting to me. I hadn't attempted to eat that much since Thanksgiving and I could feel the elastic in my sweats stretching with each swallow. Suddenly, Jo started laughing. That sweet music melted my bones and I smiled warmly as I watched her brilliant smile brighten the room. "Mark, sweetie. Stop before you hurt yourself, please." "But it's so good?" I pouted with a mouth still full of food. This made her laugh even harder and I could see her eyes start to water. She stood up and forced my plate and fork from my hands. "Give me that before you kill yourself," she giggled. I watched her walk back into the kitchen, feeling for the first time in a long time those heartstrings of mine being plucked in a pleasant manner. I knew I loved my wife, but I was now realizing that I hadn't really been actively enjoying that emotion lately. I didn't have to fake the labored effort it took for me to stand up and start moving again. I felt like a ton of bricks as I wobbled into the kitchen. I laid a kiss on Jo's forehead, leaping for joy on the inside when she leaned into me to accept it. She was still laughing as I shooed her upstairs to enjoy her evening shower, promising a clean kitchen when she got back. A fog of tea tree oil and honeysuckle followed her down the stairs. Seeing her in a better mood, seeing her smile when she looked at me stirred up a mixture of guilt and excitement. I hated that I had ever let that smile fade but adored that fact that she was still willing to renew it for me. Her bare feet padded on the kitchen tile as she went straight to the freezer. "What do you think you're doing?" I teased, knowing full well that she had seen me deposit the carton of ice cream there earlier. She peaked out from behind the fridge door, giving me another one of those smiles I missed so much. "You bought me spumoni," she purred, the delight on her face making me feel uniquely manly. How could I ever forget what it felt like to spoil my wife? I took a bowl from the cupboard and pried the carton from her hands. "Go put on a movie, Jo. I'll make you a bowl and be right in." She agreed to this completely, yelling back at me as she retired to the living room, "Don't be skimpy with that ice cream now." I couldn't help but be happy. This morning I had been dying, thinking that I was to be greeted with divorce papers and not a kiss. I had been killing myself all day trying to remember if I even knew how to use a washing machine anymore. I had nearly suffocated with the thought of sleeping in a bed alone for the first time in over ten years. Now, there was hope everywhere I looked. A couple hours of positive attention and Jo was beginning to look like the women I fell in love with again. I walked into the living room and was greeted by her outstretched hand. Laughing, I surrendered the bowl of ice cream and sat down on the opposite side of the couch from her. Her eyes were glued to the newest episode of her favorite crime drama while my eyes were glued to her. After her shower, she had donned a pair of aged running shorts and one of my t-shirts. Her legs were curled beneath her on the couch and the thought of her being my pet made my heart ache. I wanted that again. I waited patiently until right before the crux of the episode. I got out bag with the lotion I had purchased in it and pulled at her leg. She amazed me once again by surrendering them both to me and adjusting accordingly on the sofa. She placed her empty bowl on the floor and leaned against the arm of the sofa so her outstretched legs lay in my lap. I turned to face her, the soles of her feet resting on my thighs. "What's that?" she stole a few glances my way, slightly distracted by the rustling of the bag. "Nothing," I replied casually while squirting some of the lotion in my hands. I warmed it in my palms before I took her left foot. She gasped as she felt my greased hands glide over her heel foot and press into the arch of her foot. Jo momentarily forgot about the tv and stared at me. I aimlessly massaged her foot all the while ignoring her prying eyes. The last thing I wanted was for her to suspect I was making a last ditch effort. The situation I was in was bad enough, but I needed her to know that the effort I was making was one for good and out of love, not just because I didn't want her to leave me. I wanted to seduce her again, to revisit our courting days. A foot rub would not be an appropriate effort to mend a dying marriage, but it was a spectacular way to let my wife know that I still desired her. It felt like forever before she returned her attention to the television. The muscles she had tightened were now loose and she had silently accepted my ministrations. Now I could really do some work. I kept my glances downwards short, using mostly the feel of her muscles and the moans escaping her lips as indicators for what she liked. Before I knew it, I was done with her feet and moving up her ankles and calves. Applying more lotion, I used one hand for each of her legs and mirrored my massaged techniques. Jo was breathing deep, slow breaths obviously loving what I was doing. The credits for her show ended just as I was passing her knees. She turned to watch me as I slid my hands down her legs once more and replaced the cap on the bottle of lotion. She was a little worked up. The look in her eye was one I hadn't seen in a while and it took every bit of self-control I had not to act on it. I could've had her right then and there, but that wasn't my intention. As I stated earlier, I was trying to court my wife again not jump in her pants and fool around. I Still Love You "Why?" she nearly whispered, watching me rub in the excess lotion over my hands. Those hazel eyes that I had neglected to get lost in recently were looking me up and down. "Oh," I mused, acting surprised that I had to explain myself. "I saw the lotion and thought it smelled really nice." I left it at that and rose from the couch to retire for the night. The next morning, Jo woke me with a kiss. The last time she did that was on my birthday and I was tickled pink that she was already responding so well to my plan. Granted, the kiss was more like a peck, but really it's the thought that counts, and knowing that I was among the first hundred or so things she thought about that morning made my day. My eyes fluttered open as I inhaled the fresh cup of coffee on my nightstand, and for the first time in months, my cheek was warm with evidence of her kiss. I walked into work much happier that day and was greeted by an all too eager Penny at my desk. "So, what did you do last night?" she bounced around my cubicle, full of pent up excitement. I laughed and filled Penny in on my plan and all the things that I did as part of step one last night. She awed and patted my shoulder, constantly reassuring me that my wife would be mine again before long. I was still nervous as to whether or not I could pull it off without making Jo frustrated, but I wanted to be hopeful and it was easily accomplished in Penny's company. Penny rested her chin against the top of my cubicle wall, looking down at me with those eyes a woman gets when she's watching a romantic movie. "So what's step two?" "Well, the second thing that I miss the most about what our relationship used to be was how much Jo talked to me. She used to tell me everything, forever talking. I never realized how quiet it got and how much I don't know about the life she lives now." It was all true. I knew almost nothing of my wife's daily life. I didn't know any of the people she worked with. I didn't know where she liked to go for lunch. I didn't even know if she went out for lunch. "Stop stalling, Mark. What are you going to do tonight?" Penny anxious prodded. That abrasive attitude she tended to default to came shining through as she eagerly awaited my answer. "I was hoping I could sneak out of here a little early tonight and make Jo dinner. If I time things just right I can give her a glass of wine and listen to everything she's kept pent up inside while I fix her some of my mom's famous clam chowder." I looked up to see Penny's reassuring smile. "I wish someone would make me soup when I got home from work," she pouted as she walked away. Everything was going as planned and I managed to creep out of the office without drawing too much attention. Penny had promised to muzzle anyone who dare complain, so I was able to drop by the grocery store, dip by my favorite fish monger, and speed home just before my wife would beat me. By the time I heard her car pull in the driveway, the wine had been set to breathe for just the right amount of time and all the food was ready to be thrown in the pot. "Mark?" I heard Jo call out from the entry way of our home. There was the distinct sound of her shoes being kicked off and the scratch of her stockings against the hard wood floors as she searched for me. She peered around the corner and I greeted her with a goofy smile. "Are you cooking?" her voice was laced with surprise. "I hope you don't mind sharing the kitchen for tonight." I poured her a glass of wine and nodded towards the bar stool along the outer edge of our kitchen counters. She sat and tentatively took a sip of the wine. "I had a hankering for clam chowder and thought I'd dig out my mom's old recipe." I took the recipe card out of the pocket of my apron and showed it to her. "Fine by me," she returned my smile and spun the wine around in her glass. "I didn't feel like cooking tonight anyhow and soup does sound delicious." I watched as she took her hair down and started to relax. Just watching made me ache to hold her. I had been remembering all the things I neglected to do for her these past few days, and out of all of them, holding her was a major one on the list. There was a time where I couldn't keep my hands off her and she was kind enough to tolerate all my poking and prodding. I wanted that back, too. My plan couldn't have been working any better. Two sips into the wine and she started to open up about her day. I worked at the stove top, nodding and offering my two cents whenever it was appropriate. I was desperately trying to pay attention to what she was actually saying and not be distracted by warm fuzzy feelings flooding over me with the sound of her voice. The soup was almost ready and I had just set a pan of rolls in the oven. The oven door closed and my ears perked up with her conversation. She had gone off about the people she works with, one lady in particular being just awful. My wife is a school teacher and one of the other teachers had been spreading rumors and wasting material and time. It really bothered my wife and I could tell that she was holding back her frustrations, probably trying not to sound too irritated by the petty nature of this woman. Jo stopped to huff and I took it as my cue. "Wow. She sounds like such a bitch," I casually replied while grabbing some soup bowls from the cabinets. Now up until this time, I'd only been replying with short answers, merely agreeing to or acknowledging her conversation. This comment was input, it was a conclusion that I had made on my own and added to the topic, and it was very important to Jo. "Exactly!" she conceded, her voice laden with surprise and relief. She acted as though it was a miracle that someone agreed with her. "It's so great that you understand. Marge has been driving me crazy for weeks now." My remark had flipped a switch in her brain and she knew that I was listening now and not just tolerating. It was as if I had released the flood gates and the small talk escalated into all the important thoughts and dreams she's had. Her conversation ventured past work and into things she wants to do with her life, plans she has for herself as well as for us. She talked about traveling or taking up a hobby. She mentioned everything. Of course, I drank in every little word she said, amazed that after fifteen minutes of proving to her that I still cared, she was able to open up to me again. She talked well past dinner and we were readying for bed before it seemed like she took a breath. There was a lot I had to catch up on, but I was more than happy to do so. She yawned, turning back the covers to our bed. "I feel like I've been talking all night. I don't know what got into me. I'm sorry." I looked over to see her wry smile and I couldn't have that. "Jo, baby, don't think twice about it. We haven't had a good chat in a while so it was long overdue." I stood on the opposite side of the bed and watched her lie down. Now here's a special note. The bed is a place of comfort, safety, love, and warmth. Though it may be a pile of springs and cotton covered in a sheet, the bed is a sacred place and if you haven't taken the time to appreciate the person who shares your bed with you, then you need to start. With all my faults and quirks, Jo laid down in that bed with me. Night after night the same place she attributed rest and rejuvenation with was something she shared with me. That means something. I sighed, surrendering to the sheets. Jo had picked up her book and was chewing on the corner of her bookmark. This time, instead of aimlessly playing on my phone or catching up on the news, I focused on her. I watched her chest swell and sink with each breath, occasionally hitching as whatever she was reading took hold of her. I chose that moment to thank my lucky starts that my wife was just as beautiful, if not more so, than the day I met her. "Jo?" I whispered, almost afraid that she might hear me. She hummed in response, still reading. "Can I hold you?" She froze. I could tell her mind was racing through every thought it could and it scared me to think that she might actually refuse. As she returned the book to the nightstand and her glasses to their case, I could have sworn I saw her smile. Jo never said a word, but she cuddled up right next to me like it was the most natural thing on earth. With her back to my chest, I wrapped an arm around her waist and rested the other under her head. I could feel her hands searching for mine and our fingers intertwined when their journey came to fruition. Just like that, with her hands in mine, she fell asleep. Just like that, with her body willingly pressed to me, she started sinking off into dream land. Just like that, my pet was back beneath my fingertips, right where she belongs. I woke up the next morning, struggling to place a particular feeling. Those few moments between my body becoming aware of itself and my eyes opening were confusing. I was warm, warmer that I would usually be and there was a funny tingling on my chest. Opening my eyes was like prying open a locked door and it didn't take me long to figure out that I had woken up earlier than I was used to. "Good morning," she whispered as she kissed my chest. I was well rewarded when my eyes finally did open. Looking down, I focused in on the sight of Jo, curled up on me. She was smiling and running her fingertip in circles on my chest, meddling with the hair that normally goes untouched. Jo was lying on her stomach now, half on top of me as her leg intertwined with mine. Her hair was a mess and her nightgown had ridden down, hinting at the goodies that I haven't tasted in so long. I guess it should go without saying that even though I was lying down, I was standing at attention. "Good morning, sweetheart," I whispered back, kissing her forehead and feeling her purr as my lips made contact with her skin. The situation was teetering on dangerous for my plan. As it stood, it had been months since Jo and I had shared an intimate moment and I figured that she would be feeling romantic before too long. What I didn't count on was her waking me up early to service her. I wasn't ready for that. My plan wasn't ready for that. I looked down at Jo as she kissed my chest again, knowing that somehow I had to stall. "Be right back," I kissed her hair again before taking refuge in the bathroom. Cheap move, I know, but any longer with her little kisses and there would be no hope. I did feel bad as I got up. I missed her warmth immediately and I knew she would be thinking the same thing as well as being disappointed with my lack of tact. I closed the door to the bathroom and heard her punching the mattress out of frustration. I relieved myself and washed my hands, all the while trying not to laugh as I thought of Jo's dramatic turnover. Two days ago she was questioning my love and now she was sexually frustrated. Would my wife ever be pleased? Jo definitely did not give up without a fight. I opened the bathroom door and was greeted with a sight that I hadn't seen in ages. Jo was stretching across our bed. In the soft morning light, she lay among the rumpled sheets with her back arched up and her breasts facing the ceiling. That flimsy nightgown did nothing to hide those nipples from me and I could distinctly see something purple and lacey between her thighs. She hummed, delightedly as her arms stretched above her head and her toes pointed across the room. I know I must've been smiling like a fool with a full on erection because she looked over and started to giggle. It would've been so easy to take her right then. She was inviting me, encouraging me. Those primitive urges were starting to shout louder than the reasoning in my head. The reasoning kept chanting for me to stick with the plan, but the urges were frantically trying to convince me otherwise. "How about I go get you a cup of coffee this morning?" I offered, internally high fiving my wit for thinking of that so quickly. I still felt like a loser for turning her down, but at least this wasn't so bad, was it? Half shocked, half disappointed, she answered, "Really?" I could tell that she was surprised her efforts did not tumble me over into a lust filled frenzy. "Yeah, you get coffee for me all the time and since I'm out of bed first today, might as well return the favor for once." Her body stiffened as she sat up, adjusting her nightgown to be a bit more modest. Her disappointment was obvious now. Had I not already known what I had done, I would've been out of my mind concerned. I just smiled. "You know what though, babe?" "What?" she asked seeming slightly annoyed. "While I was in the kitchen last night I noticed that we were out of sugar," I replied, laying the groundwork for step three. She sat up in the bed and gave me a confused look. "I think you might have to loan me some for that coffee, Jo." I gave her a wink and watched as the lightbulb came on in her head. Frantically, Jo scampered up on her knees, perched on the edge of the bed closest to where I was standing. "I have sugar to give," she giggled. She looked so damn adorable right there, wiggling with excitement as she watched me inch closer. "Do you?" I mused. I took the few steps forward towards her. Her hand found my chest quickly and I tucked a lock of hair back behind her ear. I couldn't stop smiling down at my eager wife, impatiently awaiting my kiss. She nodded and that was it for me. I gently lifted her face towards me, securing her lips to mine. Every ounce of love, tenderness, and hope I ever had inside me was poured into that kiss and all my efforts were rewarded. I felt Jo sink a little and I had to secure her around the waist, pulling her closer against me. This kiss was right up there with our first and the one we shared after I proposed. Her lips we so soft and willing that I nearly lost myself in the exquisite feeling. She was panting when I released her. Those lips of hers were a little darker in hue than they had been before and her nipples seemed to be a little more prominent than I had noticed earlier. Nothing compared to those eyes though. How on earth had I forgotten how enrapturing they could be? I held her close, staring deep into those eyes of hers. The room could have been on fire and I wouldn't have noticed. It was her and I. Nothing else. "I love you," I whispered. Her eyes suddenly clamped shut and she tried to turn her head away from me. I was lost for a second, unsure about why she was hiding, but I soon felt the small tremor shiver its way through her. She bit her bottom lip in attempts to try to keep it from quivering and I felt two tear drops fall on my arm. "Joanna, please," I begged, now supporting my crying wife. "Tell me what's wrong." I felt her take a deep breath while she tried to pull herself together. The room was suddenly an eerie sort of quiet. It felt like the air stood still and the world stopped to hear what she might say. I could tell she had simmered back down as her breaths regulated and I felt her start to use some of her own strength to keep her upright. "I thought I lost you," she whispered into my chest. "I felt like you just lost interest in me and that magic we had for so long faded so easily. I still need you, Mark. I still love you." I tucked my wife's head under my chin and squeezed her harder to me. "I need you too, babe, and I promise," my voice hitched as I struggled to get the words out. "I promise to do everything I can to never make you question my devotion." Then my alarm clock went off. Jo sighed and reached around me to turn it off. It's a shame how life has a way of robbing those sacred moments of their full potential. I reluctantly let my arms fall from her and watched as she left the bed, wearing a content smile. She walked off downstairs to grab our coffee and left me confused by the bedside. To this day, I still don't understand how she can be crying one moment and completely peachy the next. I went to work, same as always, and just like the day prior I had to fill Penny in on all the details .She thought it was especially sweet how Jo and I fell asleep in each other's arms and she made a habit of making those soft girly noises. It was almost funny how I became her new romance novel. I, however, sat at my desk for most of the day kicking myself. Step three in my plan had been long forgotten and replaced with memories of her soft curves writhing on the bed that morning. I could not believe that I shrugged her off. I did really need to hear that she still loved me, but I could've been driving into that heaven of hers. Instead of sitting at my desk feeling stupid, I could've been wearing a stupid grin. I was just about to pull out my list and try to remind myself why I'd been so focused on sticking with the plan when my phone starting ringing. I pulled it out of my pocket and felt the warmth flood over me as my wife's voice seeped through the speaker. "You should come home," she said. No greeting, no inquiry as to how my day was, just her sweet voice wrapping my head in some kind of audio death grip. A quick look at my watch confirmed that her classes had ended a half hour ago and I was pretty confident I understood the nature of her suggestion, but I played dumb. "Everything alright, sweetheart?" "No," she sounded amused. "I need my husband." "Leaving right now," I spat out as I locked my computer and scrambled to get my desk in some sort of order before I left. All I could think about was my wife lying in bed, waiting for me. I was not about to pass that up again, not when I'd just been thinking about how idiotic it was of me this morning. Half way to the door I heard Penny's laughter and her cry of good luck. I just waved and bee lined for my car. Joanna was waiting. On a whim, I stopped by the florist and picked up the biggest and most romantic bouquet they had. I figured it would only be appropriate. I nearly drove though the garage pulling in the drive way and with the flowers in hand, I busted through the front door. Excited is not nearly deep enough a word to describe how I felt. She was waiting in the kitchen, sitting pretty on a barstool with a half empty glass of wine. It was four thirty. There was no starry sky or sunset like there always is in the romances. She wasn't wearing a trench coat with nothing underneath and I hadn't just gotten back from saving the planet. There was my wife and that's all I could ever want. "Are those for me?" her smile could've knocked me over had I not already been floating on a cloud. "Perhaps my husband feels guilty?" she cocked an eye brow at me, her face half buried in the bouquet. "This morning," I responded almost breathless, watching with delight as everything about her made speaking difficult. She laughed and turned to grab a vase from the cupboard. "I suppose an apology for that is appropriate and I'll accept it so long as you know I never want to be denied again." Was it just me or was everything she said and did just sexy as hell? I was jealous of everything her hands touched. There was even a fraction of a second where I wished I hadn't have bought the flowers because they were getting more attention than me. My heart felt like it was racing. My hands itched to hold her. It was absolute torture and she was living it up. With the flowers in a vase, she came round to where I was standing and gently pushed me up the stairs. "You had better not ever go another night without cuddling me to sleep," she commanded, pushing my heavy form up each step. We got to the bedroom and her instructions continued. "You had better not ever spend more time rubbing my feet than you do my pussy." My stomach flipped as she said the word. I hadn't touched that gem of hers in ages and suddenly it became the most important thing on the planet. She pushed me back to sit on the bed and I was silly with need. I needed to feel that heat radiate off her, the silkiness of her skin, to hear her crying out my name. I Still Love You "Mark, I need to hear you say that you love me," she huffed, putting her hands on her hips and looking at me as though I was a naughty child. "At least once a day, that's all I ask." I held my hand to my racing heart. "I promise, Joanna. I love you so much, baby." "You have a deficit to erase, mister. Say it again." She commanded and hummed as I said it over. Jo was standing a couple feet away from where I sat on the bed and I quickly caught on as to why. She used to let me look at her all the time and I loved it. Apparently having my eyes on her was something she wanted to rekindle in our relationship. Every time I told her she was loved, her hips swayed a little and something was removed. At first it was her hair, those long chocolaty locks came tumbling down over her shoulders and it was just plain awesome. Then it was her jewelry. I told her I loved her again and the earrings came out, the necklace was returned to the jewelry box on the dresser. By the time she grabbed the bottom hem of her shirt I was chanting. She turned her back to me and lifted her sweater in one motion, letting it fall to the ground and she shook her hair around her back. My mouth went dry. My wife was purring under my gaze, swaying her hips as if my declarations of love were music to her ears. Her skirt hit the floor and took my jaw with it. I am a lucky man. With a body like that, Jo could've had her pick and to think that I was the bum that she chose. "Tell me again," She demanded. By now she was in her bra and panties, a cute little emerald green set of lace between me and my desires. She stilled as my words ceased, but I was quick to fix that. "My god, you're so beautiful, Jo." I continued without hesitation, or much thought really. It's stupid, considering how easy it was to tell her how amazing she was, that this was the first time in weeks that I told her. "I love everything about you, baby." Jo smiled back at me and closed the space between us. Her bra hit the floor, my pants were stripped from me, my shirt ripped off. Jo meant business. She pushed me back on the bed and knelt between my legs. I could feel her licking just above the hem of my briefs, her teeth biting at the elastic every once and a while. It wasn't long before my cock was free and the tongue of hers was lapping it up like a lollipop. "I missed this," she hummed, making me shudder as her warm breath tickled the nest of hair that lay there. Her head was resting on my thigh and she was looking my manhood over as though it was a long lost friend. "It's been a while, Jo. I won't last long with you keeping that up," I warned, watching her ready her mouth to suck me dry. "Be quiet now, husband. Your wife is having fun," she scolded just before she swallowed me. My head fell back and I struggled to identify just what she was doing with that mouth of hers. I didn't think it mattered much, though. It felt great. The best part was looking down to her enjoying herself just as much as I was. Those pretty eyes of hers stared me over and she hummed along my shaft. She was going for gold. I felt and heard a puckered kiss just before she crawled her way up to me. There was a fire in those eyes and I was praying I could keep up. "Mark, honey?" she said in the sweetest voice possible. "Fuck me?" I'm nothing, if not predictable. That little trick of hers works every time. She looks as me with that little pout, all her goodies out for the taking, and I can't help it. I rolled her over on the bed with a growl and took what was mine. That velvet heat of hers took my breath away, stringing a long line of profanities from my lips as it went. "Fucking hell, Joanna!" I looked down to see her eyes clamped shut and a pleasant smile laced along her lips. "Damn it, baby, you feel so good." "Come on now, Mark," she rolled her hips, grinding against my pubic bone and making me thrust involuntarily. "Be a good boy and fuck your wife." I grunted at her and got busy. I set the rhythm with firm, deep strokes that made her whimper and those tits of hers bounce with every thrust. I bit down on a nipple and heard her cry out and latch on to the back of my head, holding me to her breast as I toyed with the nubs. Her skin tasted like honey with a hint of salt and I could not get enough. I found myself licking everywhere I could get my tongue as I impaled her. Being with Joanna at that moment was like remembering I could breath. Every little noise she made, every little wiggle from beneath me, it was all so fantastic. I was a fucking idiot. To think of all those nights I could have been buried in her sweet heat and I was too busy watching the news. All those moments where she looked at me needed to be reassured that she was still desired, and I never noticed. This time, I focused in on her, forcing myself to rely on each noise and wiggle for my own survival. Memories of how it used to be and how I'd let it fade tangled themselves in my head and with each drive into her, I was reassuring her and myself that things were different now. I'm sure every man has something their lover does that drives them nuts, and I was ashamed of how long it took me to remember what it was that Jo did. It hit me like a ton of bricks when I did remember and I was all too eager to coax it out of her. Jo gets restless if she's not anchored to anything and it's the sexiest thing I could ever imagine. The second the memory came back to me I was overwhelmed with desire to see it. I sat up on my knees and wrapped her legs around my thighs, leaving her lying in the middle of the bed. I know I must've had a wicked smile on my face, but at that moment I really didn't care. It was all about Joanna and she did not disappoint. As soon as I wasn't there to hold on to, her hands started to wander aimlessly. I was just out of her grasp, so aside from a few strokes of her fingers, she couldn't touch me. I watched as those hands of hers reached for anything and found nothing of substance. She'd grab hold of a breast just to let go and seek something else. She gripped the bed sheet, but left them wrinkled alongside her. She even reached for the headboard, frustrated when it was out of her reach. I only made it worse for her, fighting back laughs as I dove deeper into that pussy just to make her squirm more. There was something about the sight of her breasts bouncing up and down, that near helpless expression on her face from the pleasure enraptured her, it did something to me. It stirred some primal lust up within me and it felt fantastic. Suddenly, her back arched off the bed and her whole body went stiff. She came, desperately reaching for me as her breath was stolen from her. I was able to enjoy the sight for about a second before the vice grip her pussy had around me brought me to my own ecstasy. I crumpled on top of her, smiling as the aftershock of her orgasm rippled through every muscle in her body. It took all the strength I had left to roll over and get her to lay comfortably on me. Our pleasure centers still joined, she nestled her face in my chest while she straddled my waist. I kissed her hair, loving how I could feel her warm, ragged breath on my skin. And then suddenly there was pain and she bit one of my nipples. "Ow," I yelped, more confused than hurt. "That's for making me wait so long," she giggled. "Don't you ever keep me stewing for that long again." I had no choice but to laugh with her. I probably deserved much more than a nipple bite. "You have my word, Jo. Never again." I kept her there with me, stroking her back and kissing into her hair. She was pleasantly tucked beneath my chin, showing no signs of wanting to leave and I couldn't be happier. As our bodies cooled she helped me find our comforter, careful to keep our bodies together as much as possible as we distributed the blanket over us. It didn't take long for her breathing to slow and I really did want to let her sleep, but there was one more thing I had to take care of. "Jo, baby?" I whispered only to hear her contented hum as a response. "I still love you."