Alone in Bed

Its eleven o'clock at night and I'm lying here awake. Alone. I haven't slept alone in almost five years. It's been almost two weeks since you've warmed our bed. I miss you. I miss snuggling up to your warm body, your hairy chest, and intertwining my legs with yours. I love how we end up, with my head in the crook of your shoulder and an arm and a leg thrown across your body. You're on your back and you are asleep and you must be dreaming something good because your cock is rock hard. Your boxers are like a tent. I can feel the fabric up against my knee and calf.

This is usually how I wake up during the night. The hair on your chest tickles my nose and I usually end up turning over. My movement causes you to readjust. You never wake up, but just turn on your side facing my backside. Your hard cock lets my ass know you're there, wanting me, even as you sleep. That comforts me and I push my ass against you. Sometimes I get a response of your hips giving me a nudge back. It's easy to fall back asleep in your embrace.

The bed is cold and I am reluctant to get into it, except on the nights that I have been working. I am just so exhausted I strip bare and fall in between the sheet and the blanket and I am asleep before my head hits the pillow. My hormones are in an upswing and at any moment I would like to fuck you. But you are not here. The rare moments that I am horny through my monthly cycle and you are not here. Sometimes I let my hands stray down into that lovely bush and I play. But I am not excited as when you are beside me urging me on. I get frustrated and stop. I turn and hug your pillow and I will myself to sleep.

Insomnia ensues. I think about your cock. I love how it smells in your underwear, the pheromones you exude when you're excited. I think about going down on you. The way I rub my nose against your cock while I debate whether or not I want to suck you that night. The way the heat of my breath permeates your underwear as I open my mouth to engulf your erection. I think of the way you swell against my lips through the cloth. How it turns me on to feel your fingers trailing through my dark hair as I tease you. I want to bring you to that sweet oblivion once more. I want my lips to slowly make their way down your shaft and meet the skin at your base while the head of you throbs at the back of my throat. Sometimes you let me taste the beads of your precum on the tip of my tongue. It's salty, but not too salty. It drives me wild and I pump you a little faster with my mouth. I feel myself getting wet down south.

You moan a little and tell me how much you love what I am doing. Truly I love what I am doing to you. Sometimes, I think of how I would love to be your little girl and you taking me by the head and forcing your cock down my throat. That usually sends me into bouts of deep throating you. Your throbs become more frequent. You're getting closer to the moment. I want to swallow you down. I've done that a few times. I love the way you feel in my mouth. Your hips rocket into the air as you pump your load down my throat and I take all of it in a couple of swallows. That is just a fantasy now. The flavor of your come is too harsh, to bitter for my palate. You know what happens. I grab your cock around the base and I keep sucking you in that fast pattern. I twist just enough with my hand while going up and down with my mouth on your cock that it makes you spurt. I wait until the last moment, when I know you are going to come. Then my moth lifts off your cock and I see your first shots of come high in the air, before they land on your chest. You moan and your face twists up and I know it feels so good for you. I hold your cock in my grip, lest I let go and your orgasm lost to you.

I fall asleep to the thought of you coming.

You came home yesterday. I desperately want to touch you. You are fragile like glass and I am the clumsy child with slippery fingers. I need to be careful, lest I break you. I want to kiss your face. I want to hold your forever in my arms. I want to feel the weight of you on top of me as you slide into my wet folds. I need you, but you need breathing space more. So I hold off.

It is evening again. We went shopping for marbles, boxes, paints, and stamps. You got a few paint brushes too. It brings me back to the beginning of our relationship, when I was young and stupid, and I told you that I want to paint you nude. I had pictures in my head of you running around the camper naked. I know now that will never happen. You are way too much the modest man. Shy in your nakedness, that is what you are. I love you for it.

It is only I, who will flaunt my sexuality behind closed doors but with the windows open. Secretly hoping that someone, anyone will peep into the window. It is just a fantasy. So you call me an exhibitionist. You laugh, smile and your eyes crinkle at the outer corners. In that moment, a wave of love swells and crashes over me. Again and again, I am replenished with your love.

I want to call you husband, but suddenly I am afraid. I fear what is to come in the long nights ahead. I was afraid of having a lonely bed. Now I fear the bed with us in it with only chaste kisses, the lights turned out, and the lust drifting out into the night, lost forever.