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So often, I wonder what she sees when she looks at me.
Does she see a man who loves her but isn'tinlove with her?
Does she see a man who's been dreaming about someone else?
Or does she see a man in love with another woman, who has always been in love with another woman?
Wondering what goes through Karina's mind is honestly reminiscent of one of the world's greatest mysteries.
"Good morning, honey." Her silky voice brings me away from the many things I wonder when I look into her big blue eyes. She seals her mouth against mine, for once not caring that we've yet to brush our teeth.
Since I'm an asshole, I take the kiss and her parted lips as an opportunity to slip my tongue inside of her mouth. My dick stirs in my boxers, needing attention, still painfully hard from last night. My fingers tangle in the strands of her short blonde hair. Suddenly, Karina turns her head to the side, breaking our kiss.
"Come on, let's get ready for the day." I roll onto my back with a groan and watch her walk away from me.
No surprise there. She's good at walking away when I want her. We can only ever fuck on her terms.
I'd like to kiss my wife just once without her worrying about morning breath and her morning appearance. But that's not possible for Karina. She must be fully presentable before we can properly function.
At this point, I'm surprised we don't sleep in separate beds.
Karina doesn't like to cuddle. She likes to read and have a cup of tea in bed at night, then she faces her back to me and complains about being too hot when I try to touch her. I can't remember a time when Karina let me feel her at night or a time when she was spontaneous.
In the beginning, Karina's obsessive need to plan everything out attracted me to her. I, too, like to have certain things planned out. It's how I keep control of my day, but now I wish she could fucking be spontaneous.
Even our sex is fucking planned for the most part. She tells me when we'll have it and what position we'll do. And we only do it after we both shower, then she wears her sexy little silk nightgown, and we fuck without the pure, heated passion we once had. I’ve tried to fix our marriage, even brought up therapy several times. She refuses, claiming there’s nothing wrong with us, and that all we need to do is spend more time together.
More time together isn’t the solution. I can’t force her into couples counseling, but I have tried to repair our relationship.
Minus the time we fucked against the bathroom counter, that was a fluke. I had hoped for a second round but was rejected.
No surprise, but we don't do oral because she doesn't think it's appropriate for her to suck my cock. I've tried to eat her pussy before, and she was disgusted that I'd be willing to stick my tongue in such a place.
What's a man got to do to get some pussy on his tongue? I know women who must beg for their man to eat them. Yet here I am, wishing my wife liked it.
Camille liked it.
I miss having a woman's tight little hole squeeze my tongue as I tongue fuck her pussy and coax orgasm after orgasm from her body.
I miss shoving my meaty cock down a throat, having lips wrap around it, sucking it like a fucking lollipop.
I remember the first time Camille came on my tongue. When she came, it was like a delicious waterfall. She was so embarrassed when she saw my face coated in her juices, but I fucking loved it. She tasted like heaven.
Needless to say, to this day, that's still my favorite fucking flavor.
I wonder what Karina would taste like. Probably nothing. She showers so many damn times a day that her pussy never has a chance to become seasoned. I'd like to taste her after she finishes a HIIT workout at the gym. When she's sweaty and thinks she's disgusting, that's when I'd like to lick her from asshole to clit and taste her.
I feel like a horny teenager. I'm ready to cut off my own arm for a chance to have someone sit on my face and swallow my cock.
Licking my lips, I climb out of bed, walk into the bathroom, and wrap my arms around Karina from behind, kissing her bare shoulder while she stands in front of the sink, flossing. "Come with me this weekend to California," I say, thrusting my hips against her so my hard dick can slip between her ass crack. I wouldn't mind bending her over and watching my cock disappear into her tight, puckered asshole, but I know that'll never happen. A man sure can dream.
She laughs, staring at me through the mirror. "Honey, you're going for work. You can't bring your wife along."
"My meetings are during the day. You can explore and go shopping, and when my meetings end, it'll be just you and me."
"No, don't be ridiculous. You have to work, and I have housework to catch up on." Housework? What housework? Our ridiculous, way too large, in-your-face home is so spotless you can lick the floors. Our housekeepers do a great job.
"Come with me, please." She shakes her head, wiggling free from my embrace. "Do something unplanned and out of character just once. Just fucking once, Karina," I grunt, inhaling deeply through my nose to keep myself calm. I try time and time again to rekindle our romance and remind myself why the fuck I married her, and time and time again, she lets me down. Just for once, I'd like to do something with my wife that isn’t penciled in her fucking ridiculous planner. For a woman who doesn't work, she sure as fuck is busy and keeps a close eye on her schedule.
