The Build-Up

Sex is the last thing on my mind right now, and I don't really have a good reason why.

Objectively, I should want to be intimate with J. We haven't had sex in 2 weeks. We want to try to have another baby. We enjoy being connected and close to each other.

Going through med withdrawals sucks.

Pulling back from her keyboard, she raised her arms above her head and tried to stretch the muscles tightened from the previous day's workout. Not a ton of luck there ... a good back massage was in order.

Try to be vulnerable, he said. What does that mean when your feelings are clocking in at a solid "meh" and it doesn't feel deeper than that?

That's what she was doing at her keyboard. Trying to put her non-thoughts into words.

Maybe a bath will help.

Rolling back from her desk, she set the sleeping puppy that had been occupying her lap into the playpen and walked into the bedroom, shedding articles of lumpy clothing as she went. Oversized sweatshirt on the rocking chair. Husband's purloined pajama pants on the bed. Bra and underwear in a pile on the floor (

Med withdrawals make one's OCD go soft

, she thought with as much humor as she could muster). T-shirt she left on, for now ... she liked how the hem brushed her bare ass and the V-neck showed off the slightest bit of cleavage when she stood the right way. Not too much to be considered immodest, but enough to satisfy someone who knew what to look for.

Her nipples poked out through the thin material of her T-shirt. They were perma-erect after her experience with breastfeeding, but she considered that one of her favorite postpartum assets. It made her breasts feel bigger, like they took up more room in her shirt, which hadn't been her experience prior to pregnancy. She used to get teased about how flat her chest was in high school, but J had always been good about taking genuine delight in her breasts. She loved how he could fit her left tit in his mouth while he rolled the other nipple through his fingers ...

Water flowed into the tub, and she leaned over to test the temperature with her fingertips. She looked down and admired her tits through the gap that gravity created between her body and her shirt. Cold air wafted across her exposed ass and tickled her pussy, reminding her of her lack of underwear.

In a world with no consequences, she would love to try her hand at being a temptress. See how many people - men and women - she could melt with a strategically placed bend and snap.

Now that she thought about it, her ass was her other favorite asset (

Ha ha

). It was the polar opposite of her tits in terms of size: J had a hard time getting his hands around her round cheeks. He claimed he was a tits man, but he loved to have her ass in his face and watch it bounce when they were fucking.

She felt a familiar dampness between her legs and an ache in her pussy that had been absent for weeks. She stepped into the tub and sank into it slowly, aware of each body part that slipped from frosty air to steamy water.

She hadn't added any soap to the water so she could admire her body through the glassy, rippling surface. She wasn't a narcissist (far from it, she was more likely to criticize than compliment it), but there was something about the female form that she found irresistible. She could sympathize with men who fell prey to the swing of a woman's hips, to the soft curves of the body that press in during an innocent hug. She loved that she could share these intimate observations with her husband, and that it would be a mutual turn-on.

She arched her back and ran her hands down her inner thighs, brushing past her clitoris but neglecting it for now. Her nipples raised above the surface of the water, greeting the cold air with pointed grace before sinking down again.

So this is what vulnerable feels like ...

A soft, barely audible moan escaped her lips as her fingertips danced around her labia, feeling the lips bloom gently as a finger slipped through them and across her slowly swelling clitoris. She turned her head, eyes closed, focusing on the building sensation ...

A moan that wasn't hers - more guttural - accompanied by warm lips engulfed her earlobe. Her husband's beard scratched her cheek as his lips traveled to hers and pulled them in for a firm, longing kiss. He was already naked, his cock tall and firm against his stomach. Her eyes lingered on it, feeling the pulse in her labia quicken. She sat up out of the water, slowly, allowing the water to run down her collarbone, her arms, her tits. The water droplets reflected light and complemented her curves as they carved intricate trails into her body before meeting the tub contents.

"Join me?"