Kay put down her tablet and lay for moment in the dark, a little embarrassed to be so titillated from the surprisingly erotic sex scene in the novel she'd been reading. The book wasn't one of those "romance novels" that are basically soft-core porn for middle aged women β though she wasn't above indulging in that genre from time to time β so it had snuck up on her. And now her heart was, well, maybe not racing, but certainly not beating at a sleepy rhythm.
A glance over at the clock β almost midnight. She had work in the morning. If she didn't go to sleep now, that 6:30 alarm would be painful.
But fuck was she aroused.
She stared up at the ceiling. Sleep or orgasm? Two primal impulses struggled for dominance inside her reptilian brain, neither willing to yield.
After a couple of restless minutes of indecision, she sighed and rolled onto her side, ordering her body to relax and her libido to power down. She'd thank herself in the morning for this.
But as she finally began to relax, a question drifted into her consciousness, When was the last I got off?
She had to think about it. Has it been a week? Two? Longer??
Her eyes popped open. How long HAD it been?
Hmmm. She'd worked from home that morning a while back and had a quick Hitachi session before she showered and got dressed for the office. That was just a last week, wasn't it?
Shit. That was almost three weeks ago.
And she definitely hadn't had sex with her husband since then.
A month without sex was old-married-couple territory in Kay's mind, and this was getting dangerously close. At 46, she was too young to move into sexual retirement, dammit.
"You're gonna cum tonight, Kay," she whispered to herself. "One way or another."
Looking to her right, she wondered whether her husband would be up for it. She could hear him breathing regularly, already asleep (like most nights). But after almost 25 years of marriage, she had a few tricks up her sleeve. She knew if she slid her ass back into Ryon, just barely making contact with his crotch, the gentle friction of a few small wiggles would sometimes arouse (and rouse) him. And he'd be at her mercy after that, no matter how deeply he'd been sleeping. Men were so basic.
Careful not to shake the bed too much, she spooned back into him very carefully, and then held perfectly still. After ten seconds or so, a slight arch of her hips pressed her bottom a little more tightly against his midsection. A few beats later, like the sun rising in the east, there it was. A small, insistent point of pressure presented itself to her posterior.
She smiled. I know you too well, Ryon.
Now began a familiar dance, as their bodies slowly exchanged flirtations to negotiate an agreement about how they would proceed. His arm placed gently on her hip. A clasp of hands, with a series of almost-imperceptible squeezes back and forth. A slight shift of a leg to create more contact. Words were never actually spoken during this ritual, but with each subtle movement and response, the two communicated their intentions as clearly as any letter ever written.
This silent exchange could sometimes go on for ten minutes or more, heightening the anticipation for both of them. And most nights, she loved that slow-building foreplay. But tonight she wasn't interested in a lengthy courtship. She was already horny. She needed to skip the appetizer and move right to the main course.
Abruptly she sat up, pulling her pajama top over her head, followed quickly by her bottoms. As always, he lay still, waiting for her to make a move. Suppressing a slight irritation at his predictable lack of initiative, she leaned back over toward him and began tugging down his underwear, which he assisted only by raising himself onto his elbows. Throwing off the blankets, they were now both naked, lying on their sides facing one another. Her heart was beating fast now, skin tingling, senses heightened. Arousal climbing up from that spot somewhere deep beneath her stomach.
God, she always forgot how much she loved this feeling, which after decades of sharing a bed with the same man didn't happen as often as it used to. But didn't they say women hit their sexual prime in their forties? Checks out, she thought. She was hornier than any teenager.
Without warning, however, he rolled away from her and began to climb out of bed. She knew what he was doing, but something inside her was pissed that he would immediately turn away from her willing, naked body. So she grabbed him and pulled him back down onto the bed.
"The door is open," he whispered.
"So what?"
"Sally is..."
"Asleep. Forget the kid. I need you to fuck me."
It was too dark in the room to see his face, but she could feel the surprise in his body. She had shocked him. Even though she was almost always the more aggressive partner sexually (at least these days), that sort of dirty pillow-talk wasn't really her style. Moreover, they were always super careful to maintain privacy when their kids were nearby. A clear signal that this wasn't going to be a typical night.
Her assertive turn sent an erotic thrill through him, she could tell. And it turned her on too.
Jesus, she thought. What has gotten into me?
Now his hand groped toward her, finding a breast and squeezing. As his fingers found her nipple, she moaned audibly, again surprising him.
"Wow," he whispered. "You are really crazy tonight."