"Why doesn't he touch me?" thought Jasmine. Lying on her side, propped on one elbow, she adored her sleeping husband. It was three in the morning. Six hours earlier, she'd come to bed naked. The lack of a nightgown was supposed to send a clear signal to her husband of eight years. But he had read a book for a while, granted her a chaste little kiss, and turned off the light.
She ran a hand over her lonely breasts. They were swollen and sensitive. Her time was about a week away. She really wanted some conjugal attention from her mate. Yes, he had to go to work in the morning, but maybe ...
Lightly she touched his shoulder, feeling his muscles through the thin t-shirt. He didn't appear to respond. Slowly she made her way down to his waist and hip. He stirred a little, but appeared to be fast asleep. Maybe it was not to be. Sighing, Jasmine flopped on her back, then rolled in the opposite direction.
Scott worked hard to keep his breathing long and even, as if he were asleep. Her pheromones were sending loud signals to his brain. His cock was yelling What do you think you're doing? She wants it! Let's go!!
He ignored it. A mischievous grin played on his lips. He loved his wife very dearly, and even after years of marriage, their sex life still had a lot of spark in it. But he had a little surprise planned. Hopefully she'd enjoy the moment as much as he would. He rather thought so. But in order for the plan to work, he had to go against the grain of modern culture and engage in some (gasp) delayed gratification. He needed her to be hungry.
His thoughts drifted to his woman's health. A year ago, the groinocologist had suggested that Jasmine get a hysterectomy. The doctor felt that this was the only way his wife could be rid of the significant pain she suffered every month. At lunch one Saturday, Jasmine's girlfriends had pressured her to go through with it.
She'd come home crying that afternoon, and he held her while she spilled out all of her worries. He was a good listener.
"Tell me all about it," he encouraged.
"I don't think you cut off a body part just because you don't like it any more," she said. She sounded a little panicky. Scott knew there was more. "Uh-huh," he replied.
"But the truth is --" her voice broke -- "the truth is, I don't think doctors know what they're doing. And I'm scared, I'm scared to be cut open. What if they make a mistake? Mistakes do happen, all the time!" She continued to rant. Tears edged her voice. He worried she would make herself sick.
Scott held her and kissed her. "You don't have to do it," he said. "I'm right here with you. Whatever decision you make, I'll support you." That calmed her down. Like a fevered child, she clung to him until she fell asleep.
So every month, Scott was well aware of her health. He knew the rollercoaster pretty well. For the next week or so, she'd be all over him. Then she'd take a sharp turn left -- corresponding with the dot-circle symbol he made on his calendar -- and he'd bring her Vicodin and hot broth. As he said he would, he respected her decision. He did what he could to ease her pain.
The next morning, Jasmine stumbled toward the light in the kitchen, drawn by the smell of the coffee and roused by the familiar sounds. The coffeepot grumbled and the kitty cats practiced for the Olympics. Husband and wife found one another in a warm embrace.
"Listen," said Jazz. "Why don't you," she kissed his neck "call in sick to work," she pulled the collar of his t-shirt in her teeth "and we can go fuck like jackrabbits." He held still, feeling her tongue swipe the salt from his skin. He tried to think about baseball statistics.
Gently he pushed her away. "I'm sorry, baby. I've got a big day in the office today. I have to get that project finished by tomorrow if my sweetie is going to get a shiny new patio."
Jasmine looked disappointed. "Oh, yes, the patio." She took her coffee over to the table and sat down.
He teased her, "You do still want it, don't you?"
She couldn't help but smile and say yes. It was true. Scott had promised he would build them a new patio this summer. Together they had saved up the cash, gotten the consultation and drawn up the plan. Now it was early June and time to get started. He had arranged for Friday and Monday as vacation days from work. He figured, all other things being equal, he would at least get a solid start on the project. And hopefully get some adult playtime as well.
That night, Jasmine again slipped into bed without a stitch on. She was a little more aggressive. She touched him in ways that she knew turned him on. She fondled the front of his hip and stroked his derrière. She lifted one breast and rubbed it against his back, trying to write her name with the point. The feel of him increased her thirst.
Scott turned her down. "I love you, sweetie. I'm just tired, okay?" Jasmine sighed and acquiesced. In the dark, she stared at the ceiling, listening to her husband's breathing. She waited until he was asleep before reaching under the bed. Thankfully the cats had not decided that her toy was theirs. It was right where she left it.
Quietly Jasmine stroked her tits. One at a time, she suckled the tender pink tips. The nice part was being able to control the pressure -- not too firm, not too gentle -- but still she longed for her husband's mouth on her body. She thought about his tanned skin and dark hair. She remembered the way he looked in the summer when he mowed the yard. Especially when he took off his shirt ... the sun shone on his back ... the sweat rolled in rivulets around his nipples and down his abs...
She thought about the last time they made love, and felt her labia juice and swell. She loved it when he took her from the back. His hands were rough on her hips and his grunting noises gave her goosebumps. Jasmine slipped a finger into her cleft and teased her entrance. She kept her left hand on her breasts, alternately patting and pinching the eager nipples.
Scott lay on his side, listening to his wife masturbate. He heard the soft whispering noise of skin on skin. He could swear she was sucking her nipples. He loved watching her do that. It was all he could do not to roll over and grab her to give them both some satisfaction.
Then he heard the unmistakable wet sound of fingers in pussy. God damn. Fervently he wished for a way to sneak a peek but could think of none. His compass was pointing due north, true and steady. As soon as she was asleep, he'd have to go jerk off in the bathroom. He tried not to groan in frustration.
The sound changed. Jasmine made a brief moaning noise. Now Scott knew, if only he could turn over, he'd see the phallic silhouette in the moonlight. He'd see her delicate, feminine hand wrapped around the broad U-curve of the two-headed toy. He could visualize his wife pleasuring herself. The image, combined with the teasing sensory input, made him just about stark raving.
Jasmine played the pyrex head of the dildo between her labia, rubbing the blunt point up and down. Slowly she guided the fatter end of the curved glass rod into her hungry cunny. The other half of the rainbow stuck out. It looked like she had a penis. She used it as a handle to wedge the dildo in deeper. She let go and practiced her kegels. The rod sticking out of her bobbed up and down.
Their love life was often playful. She was tempted to shake her husband awake and say, "Hey, look at this! Let's compare our dicks!" But she kept her laughter to herself. She fingered her clit instead, trying to get some relief. She rocked her hips and thrust the hard pole in and out of her aching pussy.
At last she came. He felt the mattress give as she pressed down with the soles of her feet. He knew her back was arched and her pelvis was thrust up into the air. Still he held his silence and kept his hands off his boner. He waited for what seemed like forever, though it was probably only ten minutes. When her breathing steadied out, he made his way down the hall. Her sounds and movements were fresh in his mind. Quickly he took care of business and went back to bed.
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