She is doing it to me again and yet remains unaware.
I am watching my beautiful wife of 20 years slowly get dressed as I put on my shirt and tie. Generally conservative and reserved the last thought on her mind involves seduction at this hour of the day. I could ask no more of her as she has given her life to raising and educating our children. I am grateful for her and the way she gracefully handles the many details and surprises of life with our two young children. She is oblivious to my rising desire for her as we dress for church. The not so gentle sounds of my two young sons interrupts the moment and snaps me back to the reality that we will be late if we don't hurry ourselves along.
The ride to church is uneventful until she crosses her legs four or five times in an effort to be more comfortably seated. Of course, in my finite male mind, I interpret this as a subtle sign that she enjoys the friction of nylon against nylon and may be ready for deep caresses and kisses later in the day. This is an incorrect interpretation of the sort that I have come to accept during our marriage. The sound of our children arguing in the backseat seals the deal crushing another erotic urge.
Properly seated in our regular pew we greet friends attending the service. We all wear attire that is more formal than that which we wear Monday through Saturday. It is during these moments that my amiable nature disguises the growing erotic burn inside of me.
Why these feelings regarding church and sex? Not because I wish to rebel against any particular religious teaching. Sex and more importantly love is indeed a gift from God that I respect and cherish. Our minister begins his 45 minute sermon on total depravity and original sin. He's very likable but makes for a better professor of theology than an inspiring public speaker. He drones on and several in the congregation retreat to their own private thought world.
It is during the sermon that my mind begins to wander. I mean no disrespect but I imagine the intoxicating scent of recent sex emanating from between the legs of many of the women in the prim and proper congregation. I sense the sexual frustration of the single mom whose husband abruptly left her because he lost his job and foolishly convinced himself that he did not to be married any longer. Her newborn suckles at her breast discreetly covered beneath a blanket. Those that sit near her smile at the sound of the cooing satisfied infant.
Suddenly, I have stepped back to that moment in bed when I discovered that my wife desired something beyond pure vanilla sex . Her sex drive while pregnant with our second son rocketed out of sight. She was plump and full and beautiful. She desired cuddling and loving on a regular basis. Her breasts blossomed to twice their normal delightful size. She was always moist to the touch and opened like a flower within seconds of the first graze of my fingers. She was cavernous inside and ravenous outside. My penis found a warm, responsive and receptive place inside of her each night. Soft, slow, hard or fast, it all made her happy. I could not get enough of her body. She was welcoming me deeper inside than ever before. My tongue no longer lightly poked and prodded with gentle but insistent attention. Instead, I felt as if I could swallow her whole from the inside out with a hunger she had never seen in me before. As with both of her pregnancies, we had sloppy, wet, laughable, farting noise sex right up until a few hours before she went into labor. I can only imagine that her obstetrician had to feel her way through a river of my semen to get to the baby inside.
