What a Pity!byCharlieGG©
"Yeah, we're getting there," Rose sighed, and I could practically see her head shaking despite the fact we were talking on the phone.
"I mean, in his defense, it's been a couple of weeks, I've just been tired, not feeling well, so I get it," She continued. "And he's definitely getting gropey."
"Ah yes," I laughed, hoping to add some levity to the discussion. "Time for you to do some work!"
Rose and I have known each other for 15+ years. We were good friends long before either of us got married and quickly became each other's "marriage counselor" over the years. If I was having an issue with Donna and needed a woman's perspective, Rose was my gal. And if Rose needed a man's point of view on a problem she was having with her husband, Don, she always knew she could talk to me.
"It's funny you mention this today, I just had a buddy at work today bemoaning the ol 'pity handjob,' talking about how much he hated it."
"THAT'S what I really need to do," Rose said. "I just need to get him off my back for a week."
"You're a real romantic, Rose," I chided.
"Fuck you," she shot back, but then laughed.
"So seriously," Rose began, when I answered my phone on the way home from work that day. "What if I just give him a handjob? Is that good? Can I get away with that?"
"Okay, fill me in again, what's going on here?"
"Charlie, I feel like shit. I mean, I'm legit sick, stuffed up, I seriously don't even know why he'd want to have sex with me right now. I'm seriously gross."
"Well, that's your opinion. Us guys see things differently."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm always sexy to him, blah blah blah..."
"Okay, well listen... generally the pity handjob sucks. Seriously, I don't even want it anymore. I'd rather wait another few days, even a week until Donna's actually interested in sex than get that just-lie-there-while-she-strokes-me-fully-clothed-and-disinterested crap."
"Fuck fuck fuck, then what do I do?" She whined.
"Sex is absolutely out of the question?" I asked
"Right now, yeah, I just... I can't."
I should probably defend Rose here. Generally, she was still a pretty sexual gal. Like many married women (and men for that matter) she wasn't the crazy dynamo she used to be, but Don still had little to complain about, especially in comparison to several other married guys I knew. So if she wasn't willing to, she clearly wasn't feeling well at all.
"Okay, well... I have some ideas." I began, trying to walk the line of getting too sexually blatant. "And maybe we can get you through this with both of you happy."
"I'm listening..." she responded, with a hint of interest in this potential way out.
"So the important thing is for him to get something out of it that's fun, something sexy for him. If you just say, 'lay back and let me finish you off,' he's not going love it when it happens and, even worse, he's going to hate it after it happens. And worst of all, it's not going to satisfy him for very long. Hell, he could be back to gropey the next day..."
"Well, fuck it then..."
"But," I talked over her, "I think we can turn this pity handjob into something he'll really enjoy and leave him satisfied for awhile."
"Okay, talk to me..."
"Here's what I'm thinking. Pick a time when you're going to shower. Maybe at night before you go to bed would be a good idea..."
"And then... pull him into the bathroom with you." I picked up my pace as the thought solidified itself.
"Slide off your robe and tell him you want to give him a treat... pull him out, grab some lotion and give him the handjob there as the shower runs... and let him finish on you, maybe your chest."
"Charlie, I... I don't know..."
"Listen, I'm just saying it gives him something," I debated. "He gets to see your body, he gets his rocks off, even a little kinkiness getting to finish on you. For you, you get to give him something sexual without a lot of work and you get to jump right in the shower afterward, clean off and you're done."
There was a long pause on the other end of the call, the wheel's in Rose's mind spinning.
"I don't know, it still sounds... I don't know I just don't want to do that either. I'm just so not in the mood..."
"I get it," I said, giving up my attempts to help my fellow married man. "It was just a thought."
"I appreciate you trying to help, I really do, you know that," She sighed. "Okay, I'm home, I gotta run. I'll talk to you later..."
I trudged into the house, throwing my briefcase near the coat closet and moved immediately to the kitchen cabinet with our meds in it. I grabbed a pair of Tylenol Cold tablets and threw them down with water. Between the pressure headache pounding on my temples and the sinus pressure exploding through my nasal passages, I felt like chopping my head off and ending it.
I jumped a bit, Don's voice surprised me as he usually doesn't walk in the door for another half-hour or so.
"Whew, you scared me," I smiled, turning my head to allow him to give me a kiss on the cheek. "I didn't know you were home already."
"Did you not see my car in the garage?" He said with a bemused look on his face.
"Oh, I... I guess I didn't notice, my head is killing me..."
"Well, go lay down for a bit," he offered, giving me a second kiss, this time on the forehead. "I cut out early so I got that junk in the basement boxed up and dinner can be ready in just a little bit, take a break."
Awww. I love my husband. What a sweetie. I nodded and walked past him towards the stairs to our bedroom... and as I did, he grabbed my ass. It immediately re-darkened my mood.
"Yeah, I get it," I thought as I moved up the stairs. "You're horny..."
Seconds later, my head hit the pillow. I didn't even bother taking off my business suit, just wham, fell flat on the bed. I hadn't been sleeping well, what with the congestion and all, and between my long work day and the quickly-working cold medicine, I slipped off to dreamland.
I awoke 45 minutes later to the smell of grilled chicken and butter-smothered baked potato. I struggled to prop myself up, my head still a little groggy, but mercifully feeling significantly less congested. My stomach grumbled and I realized I was very, very hungry.
"Dinner in bed!" My husband proclaimed with a flourish as he set the bed tray on my lap, a small salad tucked in next to the aforementioned food.
"Wow, honey, this looks so good," I smiled, grabbing the napkin on the tray and spreading it out on my lap. "Thank you..."
"Of course, anything for my baby," he responded, kissing me, this time square on the lips before I could react, lingering just a touch longer than a peck.
"Thanks," I said again, and dug in. "Where's yours?"
"I already ate," Don said, as he retreated from the room. "I want to get that basement stuff off to the donation center, so I thought I'd run it now if that's okay..."
"Sure," I waved him off, now fully focused on the meal in front of me.
Half an hour later, having devoured dinner, I was back downstairs putting my dishes into the dishwasher. My head felt significantly better, not great, but better and I was looking forward to curling up in bed, maybe reading a book and getting a good night sleep. My business suit, the one I just slept in, was uncomfortable (and a little sweaty after my nap) and would definitely need to head to the dry cleaners.
So I pushed back up the stairs and stripped off the suit, tucking it into a corner and making a mental note to drop it off the next day. I slipped into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and then retreated to the bedroom to throw my bra and panties into the laundry hamper.
I walked back towards the bathroom and as I felt the steam from the shower, I heard the door open downstairs and Don throw his keys on the shoe rack.
And I started thinking...
I whistled as I tossed my keys, the metal landing perfectly on the top of the shoe rack and sliding to a halt before they could fall off.
I was feeling pretty good about everything I had gotten done, both at work (which allowed me to leave early) and at home. That basement project had been a pain in my side most of the summer so it was a relief to have it mostly behind me.
Plus, let's be honest, keeping busy helped me keep my mind off sex. It had been almost three weeks and I was pretty wound up. Making matters worse, Rose was under the weather, her nightly sniffling and sneezing had been keeping both of us up, so the odds of anything happening in the immediate future weren't very good.
Part of me felt guilty for even thinking about it, but another part of me was too frustrated to think rationally.
"Stop," I thought to myself as I moved into the kitchen. Thinking about it would only fuel the frustration. There was still time to get the lawn mowed and maybe another couple of things done before hitting the sack.
I heard the faint sounds of the shower upstairs as I moved back toward the garage. And just as my hand hit the door knob, I heard Rose's voice:
"Don, hon, come up to the bathroom!"
Oh fucking great. The hot water was out? The toilet wouldn't flush? Now what could it be?
I stalked up the stairs and pushed through our master suite door. I turned to see steam pouring out from the bathroom. Well, at least it wasn't the hot water.
I pushed open the door and found Rose sitting on the closed toilet, robe on, beads of sweat already forming on her face as she sat in the steam-soaked bathroom.
"Are you okay? Not feeling well?" I asked
"Actually, I am feeling better, the steam is helping my sinuses too," she smiled. "I just thought you deserved a treat for dinner and all the work you've gotten done today..."
And with that, she reached out and unbuttoned my jeans. I stood there stunned. Seconds earlier I was mentally bemoaning my sexual frustration, now my sexy wife was sliding down my zipper and... what was going on?
Rose tugged at my jeans and boxers at the same time, my soft cock bouncing out. She rolled her hand over my balls and then pulled playfully on my shaft, which, by the way, was quickly rising up.
I looked at her with a look that had to be complete confusion, as she let out a laugh and then pushed her robe off her shoulders, letting it fall behind her, revealing her beautiful body.
"Just enjoy it," Rose said, her fingers now moving rhythmically up and down my hard cock, sweat sliding down her cleavage.
I reached out to her but she pushed my hand away and looked up at me with an evil smile.
"Uh uh, no touching for you mister," she gave me a lopsided grin, and quickened the pace with her other hand.
The heat from the shower was hitting me now, I felt a drip roll down my face and watched as another rolled down my chest, dodging my navel and sliding into my pubic hair where, just a touch lower, Rose was working me over.
"God that feels good," I moaned, now fully erect. "Fuck..."
"Goooooood," she extended the word as if soothing me. "I want it to feel good for you."
It didn't take long before I started to feel weak. The heat combined with the swirling in my head was starting to make my knees buckle and I could feel my orgasm growing quickly after three weeks of frustration.
"I... I'm... I'm going to cum..." I said, opening my eyes and looking at her questioningly, wondering if I should turn into the shower or the wall or...
"Cum on my boobs," Rose smiled and then rolled her tongue over her lips.
Well that just sent me right over the edge. My brain was saying I should ask "really, are you sure?" but my cock was saying "too late!" and a split second later I released, spurting cum across her neck and chest.
"Mmm..." she hummed as her other hand massaged her breasts, rubbing it into her.
"Oh my Goddddddddddddd" I muttered as my orgasm went on and on, my legs shaking, my mind exploding as I covered her over and over.
When I was finally done, I collapsed against the bathroom door.
"Okay, get out of here," Rose said, reaching around to smack me on the butt. "I want to shower and get into bed!"
I slid into the shower and slumped against the wall as the hot water poured down on me. Honestly, as much as I didn't want to do that, it felt like Charlie was right, win-win for everyone. But man, it was exhausting. I was right, I didn't want to do that.
I pushed myself up and started washing Don's juices off my chest and stomach and as I did, a smile crossed my face. Actually, now that it was over, it wasn't that bad. I hoped that when I pushed his hand away, I pulled off the playful look I was going for. It's not that I didn't want him to touch me at all, I just knew that once he got started with his hands I was going to have a very hard time keeping him from going for it all.
And would that really have been so bad? Probably not, I guess. I mean, based on how quickly he came from that simple handjob (it usually took forever to get him to cum that way) he certainly wouldn't have lasted long inside me. Would it have been so bad to have just spread my legs and let him take me there on the bathroom floor?
Wow, that might've been pretty hot actually. I leaned back again against the wall, my brain swimming a bit in the heat and suddenly realized, holy shit, I was touching myself.
My mind wandered back to my husband's rock-solid cock in my hand, my fingers rolling over it, feeling so hot and hard in my hand. Oh God, it would've felt good to have him plunge that thing inside me, relieve some of the stress and tension, take me...
I slid a finger inside myself as I slid down the shower wall, my butt landing on the floor, hot water splashing down on top of my head. I curled and circled my finger to hit the right spot and let out a long moan.
"God that feels good," I let out and then giggled, remembering those were the same words Don used minutes earlier while I was jerking him off.
"Oh yes," I whispered, now working over my clit furiously, visions of my husband and his beautiful shaft invading my thoughts. In my head I engulfed it with my lips, taking him into my mouth, then released him and spread my legs, pulling him inside, letting him have his way with me as I bucked against him.
Soon the familiar shivers started up and down my spine, shooting inward toward my core, my hips bucking as I came under the shower.
"Holy shit," I gasped, catching my breath as I lay there. "Wow..."
It took a minute or so, but eventually I lifted myself up and grabbed the shampoo bottle...
I was fighting the morning commute, feeling increasingly pessimistic about my day already when the music in my car lowered and the bluetooth display on my radio displayed "Rose." I hit the call button.
"Rose, what's up babe?"
"Charlie! I just wanted to say 'thanks' for yesterday!"
"Thanks? I... I'm sorry what?" I wasn't making the connection.
"Your pity idea! I took pity on poor Don last night. I pitied the fuck out of him!"
I laughed. "Wow, it didn't sounds like that idea interested you..."
"It didn't," Rose admitted. "But, I don't know, the timing worked out and I gave it a shot."
"Well good for you..."
"Yes it was."
I laughed again.