The Rebirth of Love

"Kile, it's your turn. Come on. Get in," I shouted as I stepped out of the bathroom shower. We still had lots of time to get ready, but I didn't want my husband leaving things to the last minute again. I made sure his towel was on the hook by the shower door and started drying my hair.

As Kile reached the bathroom door, his gaze fell upon his wife, who was standing completely naked, rubbing a short white towel through her long amber-brown hair. "What a goddess," he thought to himself. After three years of marriage, he still found her as desirable as he did the first day he laid eyes on her. She had her back turned to him as he stood just outside the bathroom and admired this beautiful creature that was his spouse. As she rubbed her head with the towel, he watched her reflection in the large mirror above the sink. Even though the mirror was half fogged up, he was able to appreciate how her soft full breasts swayed from side to side as she vigorously toweled her scalp. Her large pink nipples were erect, not from arousal, but it didn't matter. Any time her nipples erected in his presence, his eager cock was sure to follow suit. This time was no exception.

His eyes rolled down her back and settled on the dimple just above her ass cheeks. He loved that dimple and would often playfully tell his wife, "I want to sip champagne from that beautiful depression, before rolling you over and beginning the real feast." Kile's heart rate increased as the tenting in his pants became uncomfortable. His hand wandered down to lightly stroke his growing bulge and then give it a firm squeeze before repositioning the erection in his pants. Sydney's ass was perfection. Round and symmetrical. Not huge like the current fashion demanded. No, it was trim, firm, and toned by hours of spin class.

Syd's skin was flawless, and thanks to a rather expensive full body laser treatment, hairless except for a well manicured landing strip positioned just above the folds of her labia. Kile loved to close his eyes and gently slide his lips over every part of his wife's skin, pausing for a delicate suck at the nipples or clit, but then continuing on because every part of her was magnificent. Sydney loved this treatment and often compared it to a massage. So tender, so loving, and so stimulating, it was one of their favorite foreplay activities. At least, it used to be that way when they were first married.

Sydney bent over to fetch her blow dryer from the lower drawer of the vanity and Kile was treated to a lovely view of his partner's buthole. He had often fantasized about that ass and the puckered pink entrance that provided another access point to her innermost places. He dreamed of slowly, gently, and with immense love, entering her, sans condom, and slowly stroking in and out until he exploded and filled another body cavity with his vital seed. He fantasized about it, but he would never broach the subject with Sydney. Not because he was afraid of her rejection, though that rejection was sure to come, but more because he thought anal sex would disrespect this woman he loved, and he would never do anything to degrade the person whose life he put ahead of his own. It was a secret fantasy that he enjoyed often while masturbating. Sometimes, while he was lying on top and thrusting in Sydney's vagina, he would close his eyes and pretend she was on her stomach and he had entered through her anus. When he did this, his orgasms were particularly intense and he literally shook when he came.

"Kile," Sydney shouted again, and then saw him standing in the doorway. "Come on hun. Get in the shower. She smiled at her husband, and then started blow drying and styling her hair. Kile slid sideways into the bathroom and turned his back to Sydney. He didn't want her to see his erection. He feared she'd be displeased as she was prepping for the party and wouldn't want to be disturbed. He quickly entered the shower and closed the door behind him, his arousal unnoticed by his wife.

As Kile shampooed his hair, his hard dick throbbed and he continued to think about Sydney's ass. When he turned into the stream of water to rinse, the jets from the shower head assaulted the glans of his erect penis and he moaned softly. He reached down, firmly grasping his cock and slowly stroked, requiring only 20 seconds to bring himself to the edge of his ejaculation. He grabbed his balls firmly with his left hand, enjoying the pressure and compression that took him to the edge of pain. He pulled downwards, stretching his scrotum and pulling his dick into a horizontal position. With the pointer finger of his right hand, he gently stroked his frenulum.

With eyes closed tightly, he envisaged Sydney on her knees before him, staring up at him, her hands on his hips, her tongue caressing the underside of his glans, inviting him to ejaculate into her open mouth. Believing that his opportunity for sex with his wife was imminent, he hadn't masturbated for three days and now his balls were heavy with sperm that he desperately wanted to expel. Then he imagined two delicate hands placed on his shoulders from behind, and in a soft and sultry voice, Alexandra Daddario whispered into his ear, "Kile, you look so good. You make me so wet baby."

He felt the hands slide from his shoulders, down his chest, lightly tweaking his nipples, and then trace the lines of muscle in his abs all the way down to the curly hair surrounding his erect dick. He felt Alexandra press her full soft breasts into the flesh of his back and rub them in circular motions while she teased his balls with her fingertips. He looked down and saw his six-pack just above his eight inch long and massively thick boner. Sydney looked up at him with those beautiful brown, doe-like eyes, and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of his glans.

From the corner of the shower, Black Widow stood in her skin-tight body suit, water rolling down its front. "Looking good Kile," she said in that super sexy voice that drove Marvel fans mad with lust. "It gets bigger every time I see it." Then she grabbed the zipper under her chin and pulled it down all the way to her crotch. While her nipples remained covered by the sleek black material, her cleavage bulged invitingly, the spray of the shower making the skin of her breasts glisten.

"Hey Kile, good to see you friend," said Captain America as he stepped into the shower. "Time to see which one of us has the bigger dick." Black Widow walked around behind the Captain, and in one swift, elegant motion, pulled his pants down exposing his rapidly growing cock and massive balls. When he got to full erection, aided by some skillful fluffing provided by the Widow, the two men stood facing each other, sword to sword, taking measure of each other's weapon. "God damn it, I think you've got me Kile," Captain America conceded, but his cock was beautiful. Smooth and pink with a large bulbous head and several protruding veins running the length of his rigid shaft. His meatus was large and there was a drop of glistening precum leaking from the opening. His scrotum hung low, rounded, and full like it could barely hold his balls. He was hairless, which only increased the apparent size of his tool. Black Widow wrapped her black gloved hand around the Captain's throbbing cock, squeezed it firmly forcing a large drop of precum to ooze out from the tip, and looked up at Kile with a knowing smile on her seductive face. "You like?" she asked wryly.

"Kile, is there enough hot water? I did two loads of laundry before I got in. Sorry if the water's getting cold hun. You should hurry up," Sydney called from across the room.

Fantasy broken, Kile considered that he could release here and now, covering the shower wall with spunk. He'd done it so many times in this shower with his wife only a few feet away but totally unaware. He was a master of the silent orgasm, but maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to do it by himself.

It had been over three weeks since he and Sydney had made love, or had any significant sexual contact. This may be the right time, he thought. They were both naked, he was clean, she was present and available, and she was in a good mood. He didn't need intercourse. She wouldn't have time for that, but if he could just hold her, kiss her, fondle her breasts and ass while she stroked him off over the sink or into the toilet, that would be enough. If he could take a hard pink nipple into his mouth and gently suck while she jerked him over the edge, he would be in heaven and the evening would start with the most tremendous bang.

Super excited now and very optimistic that magic was going to happen, Kile finished washing, quickly toweled off, and stepped enthusiastically out of the shower, proudly displaying the rigid proof of his manhood.

"Oh God. I don't need this now," I thought to myself as I saw my husband step out of the shower sporting a full erection. I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror in just my panties applying my makeup when I glanced sideways as Kile emerged from the shower. I saw the hopeful look on his face and the aroused state of his dick, but we had only 45 minutes before we had to walk across the street to Annie and Bob's house. It was Annie's birthday and the party was starting in less than an hour. I promised I would arrive early to help set things up, but Kile probably assumed that with 45 minutes to go, we had time for a quickie.

I absolutely was not in the mood right now, so I covered my breasts with my left arm and turned back to the mirror to continue applying my rouge. I pretended not to, but I watched Kile in the mirror and saw his expression change from hopeful to disappointed but resigned in the blink of an eye. He just turned away from me and marched out of the ensuite bathroom, erect dick bobbing up and down as he walked, without saying a word. I heard him opening drawers and getting out the clothes he would wear to the party. I felt sorry for him and honestly, I felt a bit guilty because I could see how much he wanted it, but I knew he wouldn't mention what just happened. A year ago, he would have moaned and pouted and been grumpy for hours or even days after I rejected his advances as I just did, but that all changed one night when things came to a head.

It was last fall when Kile and I were out to dinner with, coincidentally, Annie and Bob. It was a casual meal amongst close friends, but earlier that same day, Kile and I had fought yet another bitter fight about the lack of sex in our marriage. At the restaurant, we were both still upset, but since neither of us wanted to be assholes in front of our neighbors, we put on a good show and tried to be civil to each other. Anyway, part way through dinner, Kile said something I didn't like and I responded in kind. For the next ten minutes, there was a little sniping back and forth though we hadn't made fools of ourselves yet, but the tension at the table was rising quickly. Annie, to lighten the mood, made some joke about Bob being like a three year old when it came to keeping things tidy around the house. I don't know why the comment triggered me, but I just let it fly.

"Kile's like a three year old, always after my tit. He begs and pleads and pushes and tries to guilt me, and when he doesn't get sex, he cries and pouts for days. Who needs a toddler when I've got Kile," I said with a grin, but nobody laughed. Suddenly, the table fell silent and everyone was looking down at their food. Kile turned beat red and after a long, very awkward pause, Bob started describing the renovation they were planning for their basement. Slowly, conversation resumed as though I hadn't made any objectionable comment and the evening went without incident after that. Kile recovered from his embarrassment and tried to act normal, but he barely spoke to me, or even really looked at me for the rest of the meal.

On the way home from the restaurant, there was absolute silence in the car. When we got inside the house, Kile just said he had some work to do in the basement, went to his workshop, and stayed there until after I went to bed. Once my anger cooled and I reflected on the evening, I knew I'd crossed a line and publicly shamed my husband in front of our best friends. That fact was highlighted when Annie sent me a brief text, "WTF Syd. What were you thinking!!!". I didn't reply. I know Kile was very angry and I was expecting him to blow up at me as soon as we were in private, but he just swallowed all his feelings and retreated inside an emotional shell. He never raised the issue, and I was afraid to, so I never apologized and we haven't discussed the evening, but the impact on our relationship was immediate and profound.

First of all, Kile waited almost two months before approaching me for sex again. I am, for certain, the lower desire partner, but even for me, two months seemed excessive, and for Kile, it was unheard of. When he finally made the overture, I was receptive and we made love that night. I actually enjoyed the sex that time because I was in the mood and it relieved some of my anxiety that he was never going to want me again. I believed that we repaired some emotional damage in bed that night, but there were deep scars on Kile's heart and scars take ages to fade.

From listening to our story so far, you might think that Kile and I have a terrible marriage. That's not so. In all respects except sexual intimacy, we're great. We seldom fight about anything other than sex and when we aren't fighting or angry because of a recent argument, things between us are wonderful. I love Kile very much and he loves me. We just have such different levels of desire and we're not good at navigating that divide.

Honestly, I could be happy with sex once a month or even less sometimes. The main reason I have sex with Kile is to satisfy his needs and keep his mood from deteriorating to the point where he's hard to live with. Kile tells me that sex is about connecting emotionally for him and it's his 'language of love'. Without it, he feels emotionally disconnected from me, unappreciated, and unloved. I hear him, but I think he's exaggerating the emotional impact. If he needs physical contact to feel connected, then let him hug me, kiss me, and hold my hand. He shouldn't need to stick his dick in me and cover me with his saliva and his cum to feel emotionally connected.

Anyway, our sexual initiation practices changed dramatically after my comparing Kile to a three year old child. From that day forward, when he wanted sex, he would give me some kind of indication, whether verbal or visual, and watch carefully for my response. If I signaled yes, he would proceed and we would make love. If I showed the least bit of reluctance or lack of interest, he would turn off like a light switch. He would dawn his "I couldn't care less face" and just silently move on like he had never tried to initiate a sexual encounter.

In short, Kile had become hypersensitive to me rejecting his sexual overtures and to protect himself from the pain of being rejected, he would never pursue or press his desire for sex. If I didn't respond positively at the first signal, he would essentially reject me before I could reject him.

Like most men, Kile is a spontaneous lover. His desire doesn't need anything to get started. It just comes upon him like thirst or hunger. However, like many women, I am a responsive lover. I get turned on by being pursued, being wanted, and feeling desired. Without Kile's persistent expressions of want and his active pursuit, my desire for sex seldom blossoms. Even so, I make it a priority to engage in sex at least once a month, kind of like having my period. It just seems essential to keep our marriage alive.

In many respects, this change in sexual behavior made my life much simpler and I only had sex when I chose to. I never had to put up with Kile nagging me, complaining about our lack of frequency, or moping around angry after I refused his advances. That was the positive. On the negative, Kile's attitude towards me changed in subtle but noticeable ways. His overall affection for me, or at least his expressions of affection, seemed to substantially diminish.

There were no blatant signs like fights or emotional abuse, but small things that you would only notice if you had seen us before the change. When we were watching TV and Kile went to the fridge to get a drink, he would always ask me if I wanted anything from the kitchen. Now, he usually gets up, gets what he wants, and returns to the couch without asking me if I wanted anything. Kile would always open the passenger side door of our car for me if he was driving. Now he usually gets into the car and I open my own door.

There were many small signs like these, and over time, I began to feel a distance between us. I feared that Kile no longer felt completely safe when we were together. He used to bear his soul to me when we were first married. He would confide his dreams and confess his darkest fears and I would hold him and assure him that I would always be there to love and support him. He did the same for me. We felt safe being vulnerable in each other's presence. Now, I feel that he's always on guard, fearful to be too open as we've hurt each other in the past and may do so again. I miss the closeness that we once shared.

Kile would still spontaneously hug me or give me a kiss that wasn't intended to initiate sex, but I often felt like the actions lacked real emotion. Almost like he knew they were expected and performed his duty as a husband, particularly if there were other people observing. When we made love, he still attended to my needs and tried to make me cum, but if it wasn't working, he was much more willing to let it go whereas before, he would really encourage me to be patient and let him keep trying to bring me to orgasm. He just didn't seem to care for me the way he used to when we were first married. We still had a good marriage and things continued to work well between us, but if I had to characterize it, I would say that the love we felt for each other had diminished and we were more distant than we had ever been since we said our vows.

With all that running through my mind, I continued to prep my face for the party and get dressed. When I saw Kile next, he was downstairs fetching a bottle of wine to bring over. He said I looked beautiful and you wouldn't have known that anything was wrong. But I knew. I just wasn't going to rock the boat. In the back of my mind, I was afraid that instead of making things better, just maybe the boat could tip over and throw us both into the unknown. Better to bury those thoughts for now and head over to Annie's house.

"Oh, and Isabel is coming to the party, so don't act like a teenage boy and stare at her all night," I said preemptively.

"Which one is Isabel?"

"She's the one with the piercings through her nipples and never wears a bra," I said disapprovingly.

"Oh yeah. I remember her. That girl has an impressive rack."

"Don't stare. Don't embarrass me," I cautioned as we left our house and started walking across the street to our friends' home.

I knocked on Annie's door and then walked in. We were such good friends that we didn't wait for anyone to answer the door. We just entered each other's homes, but we did knock first because once, Annie walked in on Kile who went downstairs nude to grab something from the laundry basket. Kile was extremely embarrassed, but Annie and I had a good laugh over it. She used to tease him after that about having seen his willy flopping around as he bounced down the stairs. That is, until he snapped at her once and told her sharply that it was rude to walk into people's homes unannounced and asked how she would feel if he walked in on her in the nude.

I was mortified at his outburst and demanded Kile apologize to my best friend, but to my surprise, Annie defended him. A little red-faced, she said gravely and with uncharacteristic formality, "Kile, you're absolutely right. You have the right to expect privacy in your own home and it was my fault for just walking in without knocking. Clearly, you were embarrassed, as I would have been too, and my teasing was insensitive. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable in your own home. I'll always knock before entering your house going forward. Please accept my apology."