A Heart Divided Ch. 01

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nageren
nageren
1,068 Followers

*******

As she started moving on top of me, I thought about how hesitant I used to be having sex with Lynn- it was like I couldn't believe this amazing, beautiful woman would consent to have sex with me. It became a problem- I never initiated anything, lest I somehow pressure her or offend her and end this living dream. We had sex whenever she wanted it, in the position she wanted, how she wanted it, and I had no complaints about that.

Finally, about four months into our marriage, she noticed and put me to the test. She stopped initiating sex. She waited for me to ask her. And waited. She waited two weeks. Two agonizing weeks of celibacy. I gave her back rubs, I made nice meals, I bought flowers, I tried to do things to get her to want me. Without mentioning sex, I asked her if she was OK, if we were OK. She said everything was great and she was so happy with our marriage. Finally, one night after we had gone to bed, I spoke softly into the darkness.

"Lynn, baby. Do you think that...maybe tonight we could...have sex? It's OK if you don't..."

I didn't even get to finish my sentence before she had pounced on me and started shucking her clothes.

"Thank God!" she exclaimed. "I was wondering if you were ever going to ask me!"

As she rutted and grinded on top of me that night, she breathlessly told me that she was worried that I was only having sex because she wanted to. Can you imagine? Between grunts and groans, she explained that she wanted to be wanted by me, she needed to know that I desired her and was attracted to her and lusted after her. I was stunned that she could think otherwise. After a furiously fast fucking, she curled up in my arms and we talked more. She laughed at my explanation, that I was worried about scaring her off.

"Gareth, we're married. I wanted to marry you. I'll always share your bed and I will always want to have sex with you. Maybe not every time you want to, but unless I have a really, really good reason not to, I'll say yes even if I don't personally want it. That's part of being married- my body is yours and your body is mine." As she said that last line, she had started using her hand to gently squeeze my cock back to life. That was back when I could regularly go two or three times in one night.

"Now," she had said, rolling onto her back and pulling me along, "you made me go two weeks without you inside me. Let's make up for lost time."

*******

I often thought back to that conversation. Every time during the past six months when she had said a firm or annoyed "no" to sex, or even when she had given a reluctant or conditional "yes," I wanted to remind her of that promise. But I didn't dare. For the present, I was just thankful to be touching her again. And not only that, but she was welcoming my touch, welcoming my presence. I had begun to realize how much of myself-esteem was wrapped up in being sexually accepted by my wife.

And at that moment, my self-esteem was surging. She said she wanted me that morning. This woman cumming on top of me was cumming because she was with me. She lay down on top of me, breathing heavy as her orgasm sent little shivers through her body. Her thighs squeezed mine steadily as her walls clenched my shaft. I put my arms around her, one hand on the back of her head that was lying on my shoulder.

Was there anything so sexy as a woman in that position? Her body still reacting to her climax, her motions not entirely voluntary, her sounds a series of groans and gasps. And part of me was thinking, I did this. She came because of me.

As she emerged from that fog of pleasure, I began slowly pushing up into her. She gradually joined me, moving just her hips at first, then pushing her whole body down at our union. Finally, she put her hands on the bed by my shoulders and was sliding her whole body along mine. Her grunts were from exertion, not arousal.

I couldn't have held off any longer if I had wanted to. The excitement of that moment, the long drought of emotionless or non-existent sex, the sight of Lynn's perfect body working to bring me pleasure, it all culminated in me gripping her hips and pushing up into her. With no other warning than a few rapid thrusts, I came inside her. I cried out in a release that was as much emotional as physical.

After all our years together, Lynn knew what I liked most at that point, and so she pushed down on me and squeezed her pussy tight around me. Not that she wasn't tight already. Lynn had once said I was a good bit thicker than average, but I never thought much about it- I didn't want to think about how she had any basis for comparison. Being inside her felt perfect to me (and to her, from what she said), and that was all that mattered.

When I had finished pulsing inside her, Lynn made a move to roll off me, but I put a hand on her lower back to keep her from moving. "Not yet..." I told her. She sighed, not out of annoyance for once, and wrapped her arms around me, putting her hands on my shoulders. I didn't want to pull out of her any sooner than necessary.

Eventually, and all too soon, I softened and slipped out of her. She didn't move, but her breathing was slow and even. I wondered if she had fallen asleep right there on top of me. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened, but the first in a while. She had once napped for almost an hour, right on top of me after sex. It wasn't as comfortable for me, but I had enjoyed the feeling of our bodies pressed together like that- the opportunity to leisurely run my fingers around her back and sides, listening to her breathe, smelling her hair, hearing her contented sleep noises. I remember thinking, This is true love. By the time she had woken up, I was hard again and she had given me a sleepy smile as I had slipped back inside her for another slow session.

But she wasn't asleep this time. After a few minutes, she again made to get up, and I let her go without comment. She walked to the bathroom and I could hear her cleaning up. I lingered in the bed, hoping she would want to come back and snuggle for a while. This was how we used to spend our free days- breakfast, an hour of sex, then snuggle and plan our afternoon and evening activities. But she came out of the bathroom and started opening dresser drawers, pulling out clothes for the day.

I sat up a bit and leaned on one elbow, enjoying watching her walk around naked. "In a hurry for something?" I asked.

"No. Just...getting dressed."

"Well, then hurry back to bed before you do," I joked, extending my hand to pull her back in. "We haven't talked like this in a while."

"Not today, Gare," she said, slipping on her panties.

"Have any plans?" I asked, hiding my disappointment.

"Nothing in stone, but I'm planning to run some errands downtown. Can you make us dinner tonight? I'll be back by 6. Or I can pick something up on my way back."

"How about I join you on your errands and we eat dinner out?"

She looked sideways at me as she stood in front of the mirror and put on earrings. "No...I think I'd rather be alone this afternoon." What the hell?

I opened my mouth to respond- to ask why being alone was preferable to being with her husband. But I was afraid to spoil what seemed to be turning into a good morning. "OK. I can make something; I'm not planning on going anywhere. Maybe I'll grill some steaks."

"Sounds good. Make some of those veggie skewers, too," she suggested, throwing a few things in her purse. "See you later." She hadn't smiled the whole time, but neither did she seem angry. She was just...indifferent.

And with that, she was out the door. I lay there for a while, my hands behind my head, the sheet pulled up to my waist. The euphoria of the past hour was giving way to introspection. Aside from less than an hour of sexual bliss, the whole morning had gone much like the past 6 months. Lynn didn't ignore me, but she didn't seem to want to engage me, either. I felt more like her housemate than her husband.

But what about that one hour? Had sex opened the door to something more? Or had something else awakened a desire for sex? Was it even about the sex, or was sex a substitute for the intimacy we both (at least I hope both) missed? Would a week of daily sex really help us after all? I could only hope that things would improve this week- even baby steps in the right direction would be a huge encouragement to me.

They had to get better. I couldn't take another six months of being on the fringe of her life. And if I had to face another 5 days of sex like yesterday- sex with the vacant eyes and unresponsive body- I didn't think I could make it to the end of the assignment. Sex like that would just show me how over our marriage really was.

*******

I tried not to be obsessive that afternoon, I tried not to keep analyzing every word, every action, every possibility. I felt like my marriage was slipping away. I had always thought marriages ended with a bang- explosive fights, breaches of trust, bitterness on both sides. But what I was seeing was that our marriage might end with a whimper. I felt helpless- like there wasn't anything I could do to change things. I felt (at the time) like I had always been the same, and now Lynn was unhappy. I feared (wrongly) that anything I did different would just drive her further away.

I tried to occupy myself by working on an outline for my next book. I had somehow managed to publish three books on art- one more scholarly and two with a bit of a popular appeal. Since our jobs covered our living expenses and then some, the money I earned form writing all went to our retirement fund, which was getting quite healthy. Like I said, money was never a big concern for us. We had even toyed with the idea of me quitting as a professor and just writing, which would make me more available when kids entered the picture.

Imagining Lynn pregnant with our children, and imagining how exciting the process of putting them in her would be, turned out to be quite an effective diversion. I pictured us making love, knowing that for the first time it might lead to the creation of life. I pictured how intimate and close we would feel to each other in that moment. I pictured her face as she came, her womb welcoming my seed, and I started to wonder if Lynn might be up for having sex again that evening. I wondered if we should talk about stopping birth control for a while, and I mentally calculated nine months ahead and considered what that time of year would be like for having a baby. My fears of the dissolution of our marriage began to seem petty- these past few months were a hiccup, nothing more.

She was back at 5:45, and I had steaks and veggies on the grill, We sat down to an awkward dinner. I asked about her afternoon, and she was short on details. Just some errands, mostly shopping, visiting a few girlfriends. I didn't bring up the lack of bags- she hadn't brought anything home. I also didn't bring up that she had said she wanted to be alone, and yet she met with friends. I didn't want to start another argument.

All that evening she was as distant as ever, and my impregnation fantasies seemed foolish. As I cleaned up the dishes and the grill, I could hear her moving about upstairs in the bedroom and office. I didn't know what she was up to, but I figured she was cleaning or looking for something. I went upstairs and found her in our office, sorting through papers and making a small pile. I told her I was going to put on a movie downstairs and that she should join me. She declined.

By the time the movie was done, everything was quiet upstairs. I got ready for bed and found Lynn asleep. Joining her in bed, I spooned behind her. She didn't respond to my presence, and I imagined that she actually wanted me there as I fell asleep.

*******

By morning, we were on opposite sides of the bed. Sheesh, I thought. Even subconsciously we're drifting apart! While Lynn slept late, I went downstairs and made some pancakes from scratch. Lynn had an egg allergy, so box mixes didn't work for her. I had developed quite a repertoire of egg-free recipes.

The pancakes turned out nice, and I indulged myself in a few as they came off the griddle. I put a plate together for Lynn, assuming she would be down soon. I added juice, then coffee, then heated up some sausage- she still wasn't up. I put everything on a tray and headed upstairs.

When I got to the room, I was surprised to see Lynn showered, dressed, and putting some papers in her briefcase.

"I brought breakfast." I said cheerfully.

Lynn glanced at the time on her phone and said, "That's sweet, Gareth, thanks. But I've got an appointment in town at 9:30. I've gotta run."

She took the coffee from my hand and shoved a smaller pancake in her mouth as I stood there, stunned. She walked past me and went down the stairs. I didn't even bother following her. I heard her shoes click-clacking on the tile in our entryway, and as she opened the front door, I shouted down to her, "Maybe we need to revisit the time management discussion!" She seemed to pause for a moment, then I heard the door close behind her.

Well, now I was getting pissed. I went back down to the kitchen and put Lynn's breakfast in the fridge. Talk about mixed signals. Yesterday morning, she was acting like she wanted nothing more than to be with me, then as abruptly as flipping a switch, she's cold and distant again. We had arranged our schedules to have some time together, and I had hope it would a good time for us to talk about what's going on, but then she goes and makes "appointments."

I found my phone and texted her. Sorry for snapping at you as you left- you kind of took me by surprise. Should I expect you back for any meals today?

I started to wonder why I was even bothering trying to keep us together. If she was going to be that way, driving me away, why shouldn't I just...go? What was driving me the other way, back to her? Was it just a fear of change, or a slavish compulsion to hold on to some social convention? I had all the fancy words you could imagine to tear apart my behavior. All the popular catch phrases my colleagues in the sociology department made a living bandying about.

It would be naïve to say I wanted this to work because I loved her- that was just a way of justifying irrational behavior. If the relationship wasn't working- if love was one-sided at best- then there was no reason to try to keep a broken system going. Best just to cut your losses and try again, right?

As I went through my day, at home- reading, writing, cleaning, emailing- a scary thought started to occur to me. What if the reason I was working so hard to stay with Lynn was because I was afraid? I was afraid that I couldn't do any better. I had always thought Lynn was a bit out of my league- attractive, competent, fun, sexually exciting...I used to joke that her only flaw was her poor taste in men.

She got offended once a few years ago when I implied that I knew she had "settled" for me. I always thought that she lived with a buried sense of regret and that some day she'd finally be done with me and move on to someone more on her level. Maybe my insistence on making our marriage work was the expression of that fear.

I sat down at my computer and started jotting down thoughts, questions, ideas. After 45 minutes, I had filled a page and realized my "ideas" were morphing into something else- an outline for a story. I filed it away for later use and tried to get back to work.

In the early afternoon, I got a text reply from Lynn. No, not back til late.

I would be lying if I said that sex wasn't my first thought. I would wait up, no doubt about that. But I also wanted to talk about the problem areas we hadn't gotten to on the counselor's paper. I figured that would have to wait until another day. Unless Lynn had another "appointment."

*******

I was on the couch, reading some books for research on my next project when Lynn got home. It was nearly 10.

"You didn't need to wait up," she said when she saw me.

"Nice to see you, too," I said, a bit tersely. Than I sighed and said more kindly, "Sorry. I'm just...I thought we'd see more of each other this week. I didn't expect you to be gone every day. I want to try to work through these issues...together."

She fidgeted for a moment, then asked, "So you want to go though more of those questions?"

"No, I think we're both too tired to be having a tense conversation." I knew we'd never had a helpful discussion when we were tired, and since the questions promised to be tough, I knew we shouldn't go there.

After a minute of silence, she said in a slightly annoyed voice, "But not too tired for sex, I assume?"

Closing my book, I looked her up and down and held back a smile, saying, "Babe, that's not even possible."

She rolled her eyes and started unbuttoning her shirt as she moved towards the stairs. "Fine," she said, "but don't take too long. We're tired, remember?" A few minutes later, she was on her hands and knees on the edge of the bed. I was standing behind her, thrusting at a moderate pace. She was obviously not at all interested. I tried not to think of what her expression might be like as I pulled her hips back to meet my thrusts. It was probably the same vacant gaze from the other day.

Lynn lowered her head down to the bed and put her weight on her elbows. Other than that, she made no motion the whole time. This being our third time in three days, I felt no urgency. I felt instead like I could go all night, and part of me wanted to see how long she would indulge me. But it was late, I was tired, and regardless of whether or not she wanted me inside her at that moment, her pussy felt tight and warm wrapped around my shaft.

I bent over her body, reaching around her until I had a handful of tit flesh. Keeping one hand on her hip for guidance and leverage, I squeezed her breast as gently as I could while rutting into her. I enjoyed that sensation for a minute, but I had to compromise depth in order to feel her. So I straightened up, and resumed pushing as deeply as I could.

Sometimes in that position, I would stop or slow my thrusting and start massaging Lynn's lower back. She used to say that getting a massage while feeling my cock stretching her pussy was one of the most erotic sensations she had ever known. I held myself fully inside her and started rubbing from her spine outwards. After a few rubs like that, her muffled voice came from the pillow, "Not tonight, Gareth. Just finish, please."

I hoped she never tried to complain that I was selfish. I was making every effort to give as much as I was getting, but Lynn just didn't want it.

Screw it, I thought. Then my lip curled into a half smile. Screw her! Grabbing her hips with both hands, I started slamming against her. After a few initial "OOOFs" and grunts, Lynn regained her composure and endured my pounding in silence. I seldom, almost never, fucked her aggressively. I didn't usually get off that way. But that night, I was pissed and it was all because of Lynn. So I let her have it, and it...felt...good!

In a way that I had never been able to before, I stopped thinking of Lynn as a person and just treated her like an object for my satisfaction. I pulled her hard against me, I thrust as violently as I could. I think I wanted to hear her make noise, even if it was in pain. I reveled in the sound and feel of her ass cheeks smacking against my hips. I enjoyed thinking about the marks I would be leaving on her hips from the grip I had.

nageren
nageren
1,068 Followers