Out of Practice

Simon says: So, this chapter has been partially written for nearly three years. I didn't like how some things were going so I would put it aside and write something else, then come back to it. That and I didn't have much extended time to work on it meant it took awhile. I didn't want to rush it and screw this up for lots of reasons. Over the last week it really just needed the final part, but my process of writing involves me completely reading through what I wrote and adjusting multiple times. Perfectionist tendencies combined with control freakery issues will do that to a dude. So, I just finished the final bit.

Sorry it took such a crazy long time. I really didn't publish anything in that time because some professional and personal things got in the way. Higher priorities and all that. So I wrote ideas down in small spots of time and now have over 20 stories begun. I intend to get the next chapter of this story done next, i.e., Out of Practice 3 is my priority. And Chapter 3 may be the final chapter.

Per usual, if you want quick sex then my stories are not a good match for you. I am all about the lead up. That said, this one does have some sex early on. And without Chapter 1 of this story, you will be confused. Some of you may need to reread Chapter 1 again as it has been so long. Sorry again.

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((That Was Then: 13 Years Earlier with Sadie))

"Beautiful, right Sadie?" Michael looked at me with his crooked smirk, saying I told you so. His deep brown eyes practically sparkled at me. Adorable and sexy all at the same time.

And he did tell me so: Maui was gorgeous! I could feel the breeze against my face, combined with the bright sun. The warmth of the sun kissed my skin. So peaceful. So absolutely perfect. It felt nearly as beautiful as it looked.

The open-air hotel lobby felt like true paradise. Everyone walked around with perpetual smiles and sun-kissed skin, all holding Mai-Tais.

"I will check us in. Sit tight, babe." Michael kissed my cheek and walked off to the reception desk as I sat on a small seat to the side of the lobby, the small suitcases within a grabbing reach.

I fingered my wedding ring, so foreign but seemingly so perfect. I opted for an etched design for the wedding band, interlocking vines with placed tiny flowers. Pretty. Cute. Elegant. Maybe that was me? Michael had helped pick it out. I thought it was really just perfect, just like us.

Last week? One person. Now I am really someone else, married to a gorgeous, charming, bigger-than-life man who takes over every room he enters. All of my girlfriends were jealous and all of my guy friends just wanted to be him. And now in literal paradise, together. I couldn't stop smiling. Dreaming or real, I didn't care as I was so happy. My face probably would develop permanent crinkles around my mouth, but who the hell cares, right?

Michael and I had begun a perfect marriage together after a perfect ceremony. My friends had warned me about ceremony and reception mishaps and that I should not worry and just enjoy the day. Well the goddess of weddings must've taken a liking to me as pretty much nothing . . . and I mean nothing at all . . . went wrong. Everything going off without a hitch resulted in just a very very very joyous day. And then a wonderful first night. And even a pretty good long flight with me snuggling up against him for most of it. Everything just felt like a dream to me.

I glanced at the reception desk and saw Michael chatting with the desk receptionist. Pretty. Maybe our age. Long dark hair and beautiful smooth creamy cocoa-colored gorgeous skin. God, I would love to be that dark. Maybe this afternoon we could get out to the beach and at least get started on that path. I doubted my fair complexion would let me brown much. Likely I would be rubbing aloe on my shoulders to soothe burning skin by the end of the day.

Or he could. Mmmm. Now that's a pretty nice plan. His strong hands moving up and down my bare back, my hips and waist. Exploring and caressing all of the spots that now belonged to him.

And then I could caress and explore all of the areas on him that belonged to me now. Feeling the ripple of his muscles beneath his skin. The swells of his pecs. His stomach. Those lines leading down to his amazing . . .

Michael interrupted my thoughts as he stepped in front of my daydreaming. "All set. Third floor with a view of the ocean." He grinned. Mr. Charm had apparently charmed us into an upgrade. No surprise there. And we were benefitting so who am I to get upset?

I grinned and hugged him, which of course led to a kiss. It's what wives and husbands do right? I ran my hands along his broad back and up to the back of his neck, feeling the softness of his hair run through my fingertips. His tongue pressed briefly between my lips. I loved his tongue. Exploring. Warm.

Exploring. That's right. He could explore. Please do, Michael.

The kiss transformed into something quite passionate. And needing. We separated only because we needed air, our eyes meeting.

I was feeling so desirable at the moment. And devoured by him. His masculinity oozed as his strong hands held my waist, as if keeping me in place while the predator enjoyed his prey. I was quite ok with this whole scenario. It made me weak. Thank God he was holding me up.

I felt the heat rising all over my body, especially in certain areas. The tingle. The warmth. I remembered the many times we had made love and how he knew how to play me so well. His fingers. His lips. His magnificent dick. The man was built for sex and he knew how to use all of what he was given so incredibly well.

The way he kissed me all over. The way his fingers grazed my skin. The way his strong hands gripped my waist as he pressed his dick inside of me, filling me up. So full.

I wanted him right there.

I whispered, my lips grazing his ear, "we need to go upstairs NOW . . ."

I saw the pretty receptionist watching us. She probably was rather jealous of me. Good, be jealous sweetie. This one is mine. And yep, he is as amazing as you are probably assuming. And then some.

It took us all of three minutes to get up to the third floor. We couldn't keep our hands to ourselves on the elevator (much to the discomfort of an elderly lady who left us at the second floor mumbling something about young people today), or in the hallway, or as he opened the door.

Or as we started stripping off clothing as he kicked the door behind us. I am not even sure if it closed. I really didn't care.

By the time we reached the bed his hard dick was already moving to enter me. Who needs foreplay? I think the lobby and the short trip up counts! I desperately wanted him inside of me right then. My hands held his face as he entered me. I could feel every centimeter of his dick as it slid inside, pressing against my lips, my insides. Spreading my lips around his girth. My hot pulsing slickness welcomed him eagerly. Nearly swallowing him. He filled me completely. Oh. My. God. Amazing.

He began pumping immediately. I felt his large balls push against me at each thrust. His entire length pressing completely into me.

I knew he wouldn't last long but neither would I. I was sopping wet when I first felt him spread my lips with the tip.

My fingers moved around to his chest, his hard muscles, his abs, his sides, so toned, down his back and dug into his skin, one hand finally resting on his ass as he furiously pumped into me. My fingertips dug into his muscular ass cheek. Desperately pulling his hips towards me at each thrust. I was a huge fan of Michael's ass. All of him was beautiful but his ass was quite yummy. Muscled and perfectly shaped.

The window was open, and normally I would be VERY self-conscious about the noise we were making, but I didn't care. It felt too amazing. My mind was in an ultra-heightened haze as I gave myself completely over to him. Nothing but pleasure. Perspiration beginning to form on my skin. My heart racing.

And I was closer and closer. Until I felt his dick begin to throb inside of me followed immediately by several loud grunts. And then a long moan. And there was no holding back. I loved orgasming with Michael. It felt so right. So us. Connecting. What two people who were so in love and so in sync would do, right? Like we were perfectly in sync in all areas of life, not just sex.

My mind went blank as I felt the waves begin. I cried out, my fingers digging into his skin, my open mouth pressed against his shoulder. I could taste his skin, feel him pulsing, throbbing. My pussy tightened around him and wave upon wave swept out across my body.

As our hearts began to return to a normal pace, he brought his hands to my cheeks and held my face as he kissed my lips, his softening dick still inside of me. I loved it! I loved him! The perfect man who made me feel so incredible. And even after this sexual explosion we were still connected.

"I love you, Michael."

"I love you too, Sadie."

He rolled off of me, stood and walked across the room and looked out the floor-to-ceiling window, not likely caring that an entire outside world could see his naked form on display. I admired his perfect Adonis-like body. How the hell did I get this lucky?

I stood and walked behind him. I slipped my arms around him and pressed my bare chest against his back, hooking my chin over his shoulder. Below us was a resort pool with probably a hundred people. All they had to do was look up and see my gorgeous naked husband standing in all of his glory. He probably didn't care.

I glanced at his eyes. He was looking around the pool.

"Feel like swimming?"

He turned to me and smiled "sure, sounds great."

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((This is Now: The Present with Our Hero Jack))

I really don't remember the last time I woke up this happy. I felt like I was floating. Cheesy, I know, but it honestly felt that way. Like nothing could go wrong.

I had this budding thing with Sadie. And while I didn't know what it was, I knew I was loving it. I think so anyway. It felt like the kind of thing that was good for me; different and interesting and exciting. I loved talking to her and seeing her. She brought more smiles to my face than in quite a long time.

I couldn't lay in my bed in a state of literal bless forever. I had to get Brady moving (I was pretty much his alarm clock) and get myself in gear. I had some work and thinking about Sadie and errands and thinking about Sadie to do. Oh, and thinking about Sadie too.

I knocked on Brady's door, "Wake up man. Thirty minutes until the bus!" I heard a mumble in response. He actually had forty minutes and he probably knew that but it was a bit of the game we played. He would roll over and I would bother him again in ten minutes, then he would somehow stumble out of bed and shower and dress. Then a makeshift breakfast and one minute of conversation between us. Then out the door.

Our routine.

I shuffled into the kitchen to prepare the gourmet cereal. By gourmet cereal I of course meant my standard sugar-filled life shortening breakfast choice. Two bowls. Brady doesn't mind my total inability to ever cook very well. We did have to try to do the healthy thing on occasion, which is why I always set out some fruit for him.

As I poured the cereal into the bowls I found myself thinking about Sadie. Sure, the sexiness of last night was crazy awesome, but I kinda was really thinking about talking to her. A man cannot live on orgasms alone . . . or something like that. I was enjoying the conversations so much that I really just looked forward to the next time I saw her.

"Dad, you kinda are making a mess."

I glanced at Brady who was watching me pour cereal all over the counter. Apparently, the bowls were not bottomless pits to pour any amount of cereal into. Noted.

"Sorry, got distracted." I smiled at him.

"Yep. Clearly."

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((That Was Then: 1 Year Earlier with Sadie))

I looked in the mirror. Again. For the twelfth time.

I ran my fingers down my bare stomach. It was not as perfectly flat as it was when we first got married 12 years ago, but it looked ok I guess. Sort of. There was a little more there than when I was younger. I just wasn't used to exposing it at the beach. And it was pretty pale.

I had become a one-piece girl really, so this was definitely in the category of adventurous. Two-piece suits were part of the pre-kids portion of my life. Once a few pregnancies stretch your body in unseemly ways you begin re-considering ever wearing them again.

But this looked ok. I guess. Maybe. And these times called for something different.

And the thin straps on my hips made it even more scandalous. They brought attention to the skin exposed all around, and the triangle between my legs. I even shaved most and trimmed what was left to avoid any stray unseemly hairs appearing there. I hadn't done that in a while. I know porn girls shave it all off but I couldn't bring myself to do that.

I knew Michael looked at porn. He didn't hide it at all. And honestly, I really hated it. It wasn't that I thought he was cheating per se but rather that I felt like I should be desirable to him, not some on screen large breasted blond carboard-like very fake 20-year-old (no offense to large breasted cardboard-like very fake 20 year olds intended).

I tried pushing the strings up and down my hips, to figure out the perfect most alluring but least slutty combo necessary for a thirty-something mom. How can I compete with the on-screen girls? Probably the best combo was not wearing a slightly skimpy bikini but I felt the need to do this. Or try to do this anyway.

I turned around and looked at my butt again. It looked ok. I think. Maybe. Again, for a woman my age, having had two kids and practically running said butt off doing everything for my family. A little less rounded. I used to have this amazing rounded heart-shaped butt when we first got married. Now it is still heart-shaped, just a little less pronounced.

I sighed as I turned back around.

My eyes rose to my chest. I pulled the shoulder straps of the bikini top, watching my breasts lift a bit. They were not as perky, that's for sure. This top seemed to have some naturally good lift so my boobs looked ok, I guess. I always wished they were bigger, like a full C or something. He probably would love for them to be like DDDs. And fake. And shelf-like. He even hinted once about a boob job. I just didn't want to do that to myself. I wished he didn't want me to do it either, but I guess that's what he likes. Maybe it would be worth it to make him happy. Or happier.

I sighed yet again. My inner voices began their argument, for the twelfth time.

I felt like wearing this was a huge mistake. Was I proving something? And if so, did I really need to prove anything? Shouldn't I just accept who I am for who I am? And what would my kids think of their mom wearing a bikini? It really wasn't slutty, just more in line with what a twenty-something would wear. A confident twenty-something who maybe didn't care if her husband was ogling her. I wasn't any of those things.

My hands went back to my modest chest again, feeling the fabric of the top across my breast. Michael would definitely prefer them to be bigger. I am sure of it. And he would prefer that my stomach was perfectly flat. And my ass would be a perfect apple-esque bubble butt. That's what he would like. And he probably would love for me to be magically ten years younger. It's not that he said these things, I just knew it to be true. I saw him watch other women. His eyes moved subtly, but I could see as I knew him.

"Are you wearing that mom?!" I turned to see my little Anna staring at me, a little shocked and somewhat disapproving of my decision. She was only ten and often acted as my modesty police, as well as police for lots of other things in my life. Some would call her a bit bossy and opinionated. I just called her my sweet caring Anna. I needed her to be her, so I never complained. And the world needed girls just like her too. She was wonderful. It was just hard dealing with her with this topic.''

She cocked her head and crossed her arms, even making some hmph sound as she did so.

I tried to smile reassuringly and nodded. "Just trying it out for today." I felt my cheeks warm under her scrutiny. I didn't want to feel like I was trying to be someone else, but wearing this made me feel that way. I wanted to be happy with me, but sometimes I felt Michael wasn't happy with that. So how could I be happy with me if he wasn't?

I wish I was stronger. For me and for my kids.

I slipped on jean shorts and a t-shirt over the bikini. Too late to turn back now.

I led Anna out of the room by the hand, hoping she would not think less of her mom. How can I balance making everyone happy? Modest enough for her. . . Sexy and alluring enough for him . . .

"Michael! Come on! We have to go!"

I called down the stairs as I passed them. He should already be up here and ready to go. Lately he seemed to be so much more out of it. Like he had too much on his brain.

"Coming!" I heard his voice coming from our finished basement. I glanced at Anna and Alex, their beach stuff in hand and ready to go.

Alex cocked his smirk at me, "Don't worry Mom, we still have plenty of time." He so reminded me of his father right then: the charmer.

I ruffled his hair with my hand affectionately. He could be such a great kid. He may be almost 12 years old but he was still my sweet boy. He knew how to calm the savage beast.

Michael came up the stairs, looking slightly distracted. He flashed a quick smile at all of us, placed his hand on my back and led us out the door. "Let's go people. The beach is calling."

I found myself relishing the slight touch on my back, three fingertips lightly grazing my shirt across my skin.

He doesn't touch me like he used to. We still have sex, but like once a week or two. Or three. Sometimes once a month. And each time it feels like he is just fulfilling a duty. An arrangement. We literally schedule it and there is no romance in it. He strips down, fondles my breasts and nipples a bit, enters me and then orgasms. I actually haven't experienced one of those in a few years I think. Well not from Michael anyway.

We kiss sometimes. But not deep kissing. I don't want to necessarily make out or anything (although that would probably be nice!), but I want to feel. . . I don't know. Something. I just want to feel. And I don't feel right now. Frustrating. And sad. And probably pathetic.

So, yea, I was pretty irritated that I had to relish a moment where my husband placed his fingertips on my back as he pushed me out the door to the beach. I felt so incredibly needy! I don't like feeling needy.

I actually had a bit of a daring plan today. And that's why I had bought and was wearing a new bikini. I went through a one piece only phase for a bit but I had been working on getting into good shape. I wanted Michael to . . .

Well anyway, I was planning on surprising him with a daring bikini to see if I could spark something. Anything. If he just stared at my boobs once then I would have won the world series. Anything at all.

I had been purposefully changing in front of him over the last few weeks, completely naked and all, in hopes his eyes would follow me. I never caught him looking. I just felt like he wasn't attracted to me at all anymore.

I settled into the seat next to him, the kids already settled into the back and began playing on their little devices, completely separated from the world. I inwardly sighed.

I love my kids. More than anything. But I imagined feeling that romance and connection much longer with Michael. And I don't. We don't. And my mom tells me to not worry, that commitment outlives that gushy romance stuff. In fact, to her, the romance IS the commitment. And I am 100% on board with that. But something doesn't feel exactly right. Like with Michael the commitment is only on the surface. Like he would leave if he could find a good enough reason to. I am sure I was being too emotional about it all.