my workweek, I was anxious to get things started, thinking, bring it on.
I called Ashley right afterwards and suggested we go out to dinner, to a quiet little Italian place we discovered a few months back.
“I’ll reserve that corner nook we like.”
“Perfect.”
By six o’clock, I was high-tailing it down the elevator. Fifteen minutes later, I was buying wine, flowers and picking out a card.
Ashley met me there. We relaxed amidst the dim lighting and chill, background music. I felt vaguely nostalgic. The last time we’d eaten there was before the rumor, when everything had seemed so blue-sky certain.
But listening to her talk so animatedly, like nothing had changed, was soothing.
When we arrived home, I surprised her with the flowers. “They’re beautiful” she said, “I love them.”
Then I gave her the card as I poured her some wine.
“Happy Anniversary?” she asked puzzled, reading the card.
“Nineteen months today,” I said.
She looked at me oddly before reading my note aloud:
Nineteen months ago, you were walking down the aisle, the prettiest bride any man’s ever laid eyes on. You make me so happy and I look forward to every month of our lifetime together.
“Awww,” she said, “that’s so sweet, thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything. I feel like a heel.”
“I’ll get you back on our twentieth, OK?” she added, smiling, before giving me a kiss.
“I’m not setting some monthly precedent,” I replied, “I just thought of it this morning, when I was getting ready for work. How it was nineteen months ago today. I figured since I chickened out on the late-night kidnapping of the platypus, this might be a small gesture to make it up to you.”
“You’re not going to help me steal him?” she said, “Actually, it’s not stealing. It would be a rescue mission. If we left now, we could have him roaming around here in an hour.”
****
After our first glass of wine, we began making out on the couch.
I was putting the weirdness of Sunday behind me. I was trying to be thoughtful and demonstrative. I had wanted to make love to my wife all day. I was determined to make that happen now.
We quickly moved to the bedroom. I had her breasts in my hands, cupping them both, my tongue going from one nipple to the other. I was kissing her neck, massaging her back, sliding my hands on her ass, under her thong. When I felt Ashley getting wet, I held her hand and went down on her with gusto. My tongue was going slowly but enthusiastically up and down, licking her exquisite pussy, and she began to really moan. When she said “I want to feel you inside me,” I felt rock hard and more than ready.
Ashley’s been on the pill since right before we got married. I don’t even have condoms in my drawer anymore.
She put her hand on my dick and slid it inside her. “Yes,” she said as I drove it all the way in. Then I pulled back and drove it right back in again. On my third stroke, she cried out, “Oh God.”
Suddenly I thought of Jim Murta. Fucking her knowing I was outside. I felt as if I were in Jim Murta’s shoes, inside Ashley’s pussy. And that’s when Mayday warnings went off. I tried to pull out to get a grip, but there was no stopping it.
I suddenly came. Within a half-minute, before we had barely even started.
“Did you just—?”
“Yeah, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“I think it’s ’cause you’re looking so sexy, and it’s been like a week, I couldn’t control myself.”
“It’s OK, honey,” she said, “it’s fine.”
“I love you, Ashley,” I said.
“I love you, too.”
In the bathroom, alone afterwards, I was unsteady. I was embarrassed by how quickly I’d cum. But I knew what thoughts had triggered it. They had crept back from yesterday and pulled that fire alarm.
I had just
I called Ashley right afterwards and suggested we go out to dinner, to a quiet little Italian place we discovered a few months back.
“I’ll reserve that corner nook we like.”
“Perfect.”
By six o’clock, I was high-tailing it down the elevator. Fifteen minutes later, I was buying wine, flowers and picking out a card.
Ashley met me there. We relaxed amidst the dim lighting and chill, background music. I felt vaguely nostalgic. The last time we’d eaten there was before the rumor, when everything had seemed so blue-sky certain.
But listening to her talk so animatedly, like nothing had changed, was soothing.
When we arrived home, I surprised her with the flowers. “They’re beautiful” she said, “I love them.”
Then I gave her the card as I poured her some wine.
“Happy Anniversary?” she asked puzzled, reading the card.
“Nineteen months today,” I said.
She looked at me oddly before reading my note aloud:
Nineteen months ago, you were walking down the aisle, the prettiest bride any man’s ever laid eyes on. You make me so happy and I look forward to every month of our lifetime together.
“Awww,” she said, “that’s so sweet, thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything. I feel like a heel.”
“I’ll get you back on our twentieth, OK?” she added, smiling, before giving me a kiss.
“I’m not setting some monthly precedent,” I replied, “I just thought of it this morning, when I was getting ready for work. How it was nineteen months ago today. I figured since I chickened out on the late-night kidnapping of the platypus, this might be a small gesture to make it up to you.”
“You’re not going to help me steal him?” she said, “Actually, it’s not stealing. It would be a rescue mission. If we left now, we could have him roaming around here in an hour.”
****
After our first glass of wine, we began making out on the couch.
I was putting the weirdness of Sunday behind me. I was trying to be thoughtful and demonstrative. I had wanted to make love to my wife all day. I was determined to make that happen now.
We quickly moved to the bedroom. I had her breasts in my hands, cupping them both, my tongue going from one nipple to the other. I was kissing her neck, massaging her back, sliding my hands on her ass, under her thong. When I felt Ashley getting wet, I held her hand and went down on her with gusto. My tongue was going slowly but enthusiastically up and down, licking her exquisite pussy, and she began to really moan. When she said “I want to feel you inside me,” I felt rock hard and more than ready.
Ashley’s been on the pill since right before we got married. I don’t even have condoms in my drawer anymore.
She put her hand on my dick and slid it inside her. “Yes,” she said as I drove it all the way in. Then I pulled back and drove it right back in again. On my third stroke, she cried out, “Oh God.”
Suddenly I thought of Jim Murta. Fucking her knowing I was outside. I felt as if I were in Jim Murta’s shoes, inside Ashley’s pussy. And that’s when Mayday warnings went off. I tried to pull out to get a grip, but there was no stopping it.
I suddenly came. Within a half-minute, before we had barely even started.
“Did you just—?”
“Yeah, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“I think it’s ’cause you’re looking so sexy, and it’s been like a week, I couldn’t control myself.”
“It’s OK, honey,” she said, “it’s fine.”
“I love you, Ashley,” I said.
“I love you, too.”
In the bathroom, alone afterwards, I was unsteady. I was embarrassed by how quickly I’d cum. But I knew what thoughts had triggered it. They had crept back from yesterday and pulled that fire alarm.
I had just
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