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Feeling a slight resistance, he slides out and slowly back in again and repeats the movement until he’s seated with ease.
“Is this okay?” He stills, staring down at me with hooded eyes.
This closeness, his touch, iseverythingto me, but besides feeling a pleasant fullness, this isn’t the stimulation I need to chase my high.
Stillunable to voice my inner dialogue, I answer, “It’s perfect.”
He grips my calves and begins to move, a sheen collecting on the top of his skin.
Is something wrong with me? Why doesn’t this work?
Staring at his face, I quickly recognize he’s in the zone and really enjoying every second, quickly losing control. My lips turn up slightly in satisfaction.I’mthe reason this gorgeous and adoring man is struggling to hold it together.Ido that to him. I just wish I could losemyselfin him the way he does in me.
As the veins in his neck protrude and his grip on my legs tighten, he stares down at me to see if I’m close, too. I know for certain he’s holding back, waiting for this Hollywood movie finish where we both come at the same time and then fall into a heap together… but that’s not going to happen here. My pleasure is so far from my mind as I wonder what my body looks like under him, think about how my vagina has now stretched and the fullness feeling is gone, and what the hell is so wrong with me that I can’t orgasm with this amazing husband of mine.
Not wanting to disappoint him or make him think I don’t love his body entwined with mine, I start to moan a little louder. He stares down at me lovingly again, and I close my eyes at the overwhelming intensity of his gaze.
On his way to fondle my breasts, he unintentionally grazes the folded skin of my stomach, and heat pools in my cheeks, but when I open my eyes to see his reaction, his eyes are shut tight and his head is tipped backward as he climbs to his ecstasy.
Even though I’ve lost all hope in finding my release, I want to help him find his, so I moan a little harder. With that, a guttural groan leaves his lips as he lurks forward and my legs wrap around his waist. As he empties into me, the twitches gradually become less frequently until he stills completely to catch his breath.
After his labored breathing slows and his body has gone completely still, he stands up and bends my legs to withdraw. He reaches down for the towel and places it between my legs and with so much adoration in his eyes, says, “I love you so much, Ellie.”
“I love you too,” I reply as the intimacy of this moment flows between us.
I wiggle up in the bed to give him room to lay next to me and he flops down on his back. He reaches out and draws me close to him so my front is flush to his side, my head resting on his chest, as I inhale his scent which is only amplified by his sweat.
While I listen to his heart return to normal under me, I want to say something about what I need here, but I don’t know how.
How do I tell this beautiful man that I crave more, without offending him or ruining this connection and moment?
He tucks a fallen strand of hair behind my ear before planting a kiss on my forehead, then we lay in silence as I wrack my brain for a way to ask for what I need.
I love sex with my husband. I love his body taking mine. I love watching the strength he exudes while he’s hovering over me. I love the way he stares down at me like I’m his whole world. And I love the way he loves me.
So why can’t I speak up? Why can’t I shoutI need something different!
I want to believe he’d realize it has nothing to do with him and everything to do with my needs now that my body has changed, but the fear that he won’t understand silences me.
I’msograteful for this love, and the intimacy of these moments, but I can’t help but think of how I need more….
Chapter 5
All Wrong
Ellie
It’sbeenthreedayssince we had sex and I’ve been lost in my head ever since.
When did this happen? When did fulfilling sex become a thing of the past?
As we cuddled that night, I was thinking about how it has been a long,longtime since I had an orgasm during sex — like embarrassingly long.
Marco is on his third day off of four. He works four, has four off, works three on, and has three off. We’ve both been moving around our house doing our own thing the last couple of days. The same usual housework and chores we always do on his weekends while the kids are at school.
I’m currently sitting on the couch, emailing the kids’ principal about teaming up with Oceanside Outfitters while Marco tinkers in the garage.
My phone rings on the couch next to me and I pick it up to see the nameRosalita Garcia.
