Page 4 of Undone
Entering the house,I try to be as quiet as possible to not wake Evie. The closer I get to our room a persistent buzzing sound meets my ears. I stop in the doorway of our room, the dark hallway providing cover.
My wife lays on our bed, her naked body on display with her legs splayed open. Her luscious coke bottle shape is covered in rich dark brown glowing skin. One perfectly manicured hand fondling her large breast, the other between her legs working the purple vibrator in and out of her leaking channel. The butterfly shaped attachment flutters against her clit when the vibrator is shoved into its hilt. The light from the tv illuminates her beautiful face, her eyes half open, lips parted, face contorted in ecstasy.
“Fuck,” she moans, “right there, baby. Right there, Sammie.”
Erotic images play across the tv screen as her body withers under her own touch. Upon closer inspection I realize the images were us from a sex tape we recorded years ago on our anniversary. I watch as the two entangled bodies on the screen take and receive pleasure as it was given freely. Our bodies work together, moving perfectly in tandem, following the rhythm they created. Loud moans, passionate kisses, unhurried touches. Lust filled gazes. Sweat soaked bodies.
When was the last time I heard her moan like that? When was the last time I made her look at me like that? Had I really been so caught up in everything else that I couldn’t remember the last time I truly pleased my wife?
The fact I couldn’t answer my own questions was shameful. The couple on screen was not the one who lived in this house at the present. How could I be that detached that I didn’t realize my Evie baby wasn’t happy with our sex life? Were there other things I was overlooking?
Dion was right. I had to step outside of myself and set aside my ego. My wife was always sacrificing her time, hobbies, anything she felt she needed to, making sure shit was straight for me and the kids. It was my turn, I had to do something about this.
Feeling the familiar tightening of my pants, my erection begs to be set free. Standing in the dark hallway I watch my wife’s body jerk as her orgasm courses through her while she shouts my name. My dick twitches, wetness cascading across my thigh as I watch my wife revel in pleasure of her own making.
She basks in the afterglow of her orgasm tossing the vibrator to the side, looking beautiful as always. Her limbs relax and soon light snores release from her parted lips. Walking into our room I snatch up the vibrator, clean it, then place it on its designated charger. Retrieving a warm washcloth, I wipe her essence off her pussy and cover her with a blanket before retreating to the bathroom to ready myself for bed.
With my hygiene complete I slide on a pair of boxer briefs, preparing to take my place in bed next to my wife, when my phone dings alerting me that I received an email. Opening the app, I scroll to the top of my messages looking to see what was so urgent this late at night.
Dion kept his word to send that referral. Clicking on the newest message I see the words that both excite and terrify me.
“Make your fantasy your reality.”
I click the link displayed in the email, hoping I’m making the right decision.
4
Iabsentmindedly go through my end of day routine, making sure my bosses’ desks are organized, setting out files in order of meeting times for tomorrow’s workday, successfully making less work for my future self. Muscle memory guides me as I set out three calculators for Mrs. Jones, sharpen Mr. Johnson’s pencils, and set out new notepads for Mr. Girardi. I check each office making sure they are cleaned properly before gathering my belongings, heading home to my man.
Samuel had been avoiding me for the past few days, but since today was Thursday, I knew he’d be home at 6 and ready to sit down and talk. I hoped the time he’d taken for himself was helpful to get his thoughts together so we could discuss things. Walking into our home to see him waiting for me at the door with my favorite flowers in hand made me think I was right to hope.
“Hey baby,” I say, offering him a soft smile.
“Hi, my love,” he says, giving me a slow tender kiss. He takes my purse and keys from me, sits them on the entryway table, and tells me he grabbed us dinner from our favorite Italian place.
“Thank you,” I say, watching him lead me to our dining table pulling out the chair for me, “did you want to talk first before we dig in?”
Silently I pray he’d agree to my suggestion. My nerves wouldn’t allow me to choke down carbonara while thinking about our issues. My body tenses at the thought that this conversation could go south quickly.
“We’ll talk first–I know how your stomach gets when you're anxious,” he reassures me, stroking my blown-out hair gently.
The tender gesture sends a shiver down my spine.
“Okay,” I nodded.
“I’ll start,” he sighs heavily. “I know I haven’t been the husband you deserve recently,” Samuel’s heavy words hang in the air between us. “I’ve been neglectful of your needs and that stops today.”
“Sammie, baby, that’s not–”
“It is the truth, and don’t you dare try to make me feel better about it,” he cuts me off with his final declaration.
Watching Samuel hang his head, jaw tight. Seeing him like this makes my heart ache. Feeling the need to comfort him I stand, walking over to him before taking up my favorite spot sitting in his lap, my hands cradling his face, laying a soft kiss to his lips.
His big arms envelop me in his warmth as he looks directly in my eyes and continues, “I’m sorry I haven’t been what you needed. Everything that has happened in the past few years made me feel like less of a man."
“I never thought of you that way, baby,” I wrap my arms around him talking into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent–woody cologne mixed with motor oil. “Even when the issues with the franchise were happening, we were still good financially. You planned for that possibility, and I always trustedyou to lead the way. You never failed me before, and I knew that wasn’t going to change. I’m with you always, baby.”
“I know baby, and I thank you for that. I was internalizing things that were brought on by grief and the anxiety I had surrounding my own mortality and manhood, but therapy has helped me sort where the issues started on my end,” he breathes, planting a kiss on my exposed shoulder. “The other night my ego was hurt, but what hurt more was knowing I couldn’t please you. I thought I was going to lose you, my baby.”
