"Babe, babe," my husband murmured. I was still catching up on my REM cycle, so his calling me was not bit welcome.
"Go away."
"Babe, come on, open your eyes please honey," he continued. He sounded so forlorn, so child-like so I opened my eyes. His amazing brown eyes greeted my sight, the warm hazels that I fell in love many years ago. He was smiling goofily, with a tint of lust. My eyes drew down his long body, ever so slightly hairy like I love my men, with lean muscles and abs that could cut steel, down to the hair surrounding his rampantly rising cock, eight inches of blood-engorged thickness, with its charming mushroom head dripping precum on the sheets. "Honey, I wake up horny," my husband muttered, and began humping on my sheet-covered body. "I wanna fuck."
I took a glance at the clock and groaned aloud. It was 4.02 a.m. "Oh baby, I do too, but last night was hell, I had to catch up to Roy and the guys, can you please... take care of it yourself this time?"
His look damn near broke my heart. I supposed I could have worded it differently, but my mind was still simultaneously sleep-addled and sleep-deprived. In other words, get out the fleshjack, babe, I'm sleeping. My husband pulled back his underwear, a grungy pair of blue plaid boxers that was probably his since college, covering his delectable cock from my view.
"That's okay, I understand babe, sorry." He gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek. "I'll start coffee or something," he continued, dragging his feet on the floor of our bedroom. Like a zombie, a sex-denied zombie. I would have laughed if I were not still too sleepy to bother. I let out a grunt and continued on my sleep.
I woke up at 8 a.m. from the alarm, showered and dressed myself. I was due at the office today at 9 a.m. so I had plenty of time. I caught glimpse of a card slotted on the bedside mirror: "Sorry, babe XXX". My husband was a really sweet caring man, I regretted how things turned out but what could one do? I went to the kitchen to have some breakfast, that was when I noticed my husband never did start the coffee. Strange.
That evening I clocked out on time - for once - and went home. My husband was already home from his work, and my cousin Bobby, who was staying with us for his interviews in the city. Apparently they were knee deep in chit-chat when I came in and suddenly became quiet. I took a look at them: my husband, who could make an uncanny Jim from the Office any day, and Bobby, slender, waif-like Bobby, who with his protruding ears and perpetual smile made him look like a mischievous elf.
"Hi babe," my husband leant down to kiss me. "How was work?" That set off the conversation flow again, and the prior silence faded away.
Later that night I was feeling rather hot, I had scored two deals back-to-back at work and wanted to celebrate with a good deep satisfying fuck with my handsome husband. As it turned out my husband came out of the en-suite in a chaste pajama and promptly said "Good night, babe," and switched off the light. I was almost furious before I remembered how I treated him this morning when he wanted sex, let out a sigh and tucked myself in.
I woke up at 2 a.m. and went to the bathroom to have a piss. The TV was on in the front room, and my husband was not in bed beside me. I was not worried, he sometimes did this when he wanted to watch soccer from some international game or other, and he knew of my disdain for that game. I walked out of the bedroom for a glass of water. Then I heard a low sound, like a groan. I put down my glass gently and tiptoed to the front room. The way the house was laid out there was a long hallway before it opened up into the living room. I crept along the dark hallway before peeking into the living room.
