Bridging the Gap

Getting back from the airport, the house was dark. He was hanging his jacket when he heard the garage door rising. He smiled to himself and went down the stairs. They met in the garage hallway. He took two of the several bags she carried, and they kissed briefly, with a hug made awkward by the parcels that filled both their hands. Together they made their way into the kitchen and laid the bags on the counter. He walked towards her to give her a proper hug, just as she turned away to open the refrigerator door. He began to rummage through the bags to hand her refrigerator items, and busied with this simple chore, they spoke of minor things.

They shared a brief snack and glance of wine in bed. She was on her side of the bed, propped up on pillows against the headboard, still wearing the sweater and jeans she'd had on when she came in. He was on his side, seated at the foot, shirtless, facing her as he reclined against the footboard. She reported the day's activities and he gave her the assurance that all had gone well on the trip.

He loved to hear her speak, to lose himself in the melody of her voice and the movement of her lips. The living tapestry of her face was, for him, a permanent collection of beloved art, a moving picture he could watch for hours like others watched the ocean. He did not want to interrupt it with the mundane details of his work.

They finished their small plates and she went to their bathroom to ready herself for bed. He gathered their dishes and brought them down to the kitchen. By the time he returned, she was out of the bathroom, and he began to brush his teeth. Still brushing, he wandered back into the bedroom, to find her undressing. He watched her remove her sweater, eyes drawn to the cleavage contained by her form fitting bra. She bent to pull down the thin, tight jeans she wore, and he unapologetically admired the curve of her hips as she slid them down, and off. Then she pulled on a pair of silky red pajama bottoms. He returned to the bathroom, and finished brushing. When he came back, she had on a matching top, and was removing her bra from underneath it.

This simple choice about her order of activities signaled to him that their reconnection would not be complete that night. He accepted this bit of information with disappointment, but without remark. As their paths crossed, he reached out to put his arms around her from behind. He pulled her close, his arms feeling the weight of her breasts on his forearms.

"I've missed you" he whispered in her ear.

"I have missed you too, my darling. Looking forward to some time with you this weekend!"

He pulled her body close to his, and she felt the solid warmth of him. "Mmmmm" she breathed contentedly. This breath turned into a tired yawn, and he, taking this signal, released her. They both climbed into bed.

He laid back, and she nestled against him, tucking under his arm and laying her head on his chest. One leg crossed over him, and she wiggled towards him, straddling the solidity of his leg. His body reacted to her closeness, his heart beating a little faster, the breath coming slightly more deeply, He felt the same familiar desire he always felt when her body was near his. His cock began to rise.

She must know what his body was feeling, he thought to himself. It would be so easy for her to do something about it! Couldn't she at least acknowledge his desire? It was like she was intentionally ignoring him. With an effort, he tried to put that thought away. He would be patient. He would try to be understanding. She was tired. But the heavy feeling at the center of his body would not go away. After being apart so long, it demanded her attention. He knew she would give it, in her own time, and they would have their time together. He tried to think of all the sexy things she had done -- they had done together -- over the years they'd been together. It would take his constant effort to keep his body's needs from turning into darker emotions. "It's like being hangry" he thought to himself with a chuckle. "There must be a word for that."

After a few minutes, the warmth of her body warming him from the outside, and his own desire heating him from within, began to grow uncomfortable. He gently disengaged, and she settled herself beside him. He leaned over to kiss her cheek, careful that his hard cock did not reveal itself by touching her. Then he turned away, and slowly his body began to calm itself for sleep.

His desire woke him long before the clock. Beside him, she rested peacefully, her beautiful face nestled in a halo of golden hair. His cock, already heavy between his legs, pulsed and grew at the sight of her. He watched her for several minutes; serene; peaceful. She was the beauty in his life, the refuge that he needed from the struggles of work and the world outside their home.

He felt the impulse to reach out, to pull her close against him and press his hardness into her. He restrained himself, not wishing to disturb her, but the contours of her lips, the line of her pert nose, the smoothness of her cheeks, threw fuel on his inner fire. His mind wandered to thoughts of his cock against her lips, what it felt like when she took it in her mouth, when she played its sensitive tip teasingly across the landscape of her face. It swelled and grew, longing to touch her.

He turned towards her and carefully slid one arm under her pillow, and the other around her waist. He brought himself close to her, and encircled her in his arms. She wriggled back until she was nestled close to him. He could not resist pressing against her inviting rear with his cock, and cupping her full round breasts with his hand. Even half asleep, the familiar hardness of his cock against her, and the hands touching her, gentle but firm, comforted her, telling her he was home, and all was well. She dozed back off to sleep.

Once again, he calmed himself. He kissed her cheek and neck gently, a mere touch of the lips, not wanting to wake her, but wanting her awake. She did not react. Suppressing a sigh, he rose from their bed. He slipped into some shorts and a tee shirt, and then sat to pull on his shoes. Taking one last, wistful look at the sleeping beauty he was leaving behind, he gave her a quick kiss. His body again urged him to close the gap between them. He did not want to wake her, but his cock had no such concern. It wanted to fuck her, without restraint. It wanted to be inside her, in every way -- between her sucking lips, inside the warm wetness of her pussy, gripped by the tightness of her ass. Desire pulled his thoughts to a different place, a place where he would whisper in her ear, and she would invite him to press his cock between her eager lips and tongue, or with the pleasuring grip of her hands, she would empty his full and heavy cock onto her beloved and welcoming face. Even better, she would not just invite it, she would ask for it herself. His cock strained, trying to lead him closer to her, to satisfy its desires in her, on her, in every way. But she slept. He tore himself away and headed to the ground floor and their gym. He was acutely aware of the presence, heavy and hard, of his cock as it pressed out from the thin material of his running shorts.

He began his routine, still thinking of his wife sleeping upstairs. At times like this, he wondered if she understood how he felt about her. His love for her had changed so much in the many years since their first days together. He tried now to be so much more expressive, to show more plainly the support and care he offered her. Sometimes it seemed she felt it, other times it seemed she did not. His thoughts wandered to nights like last night. He felt frustration rise in his heart, and the dark and demanding side of his desire taking hold.

He pressed against the weights in his hand, his body taking the commands of his mind. He exhaled through the exertion, and his mind turned its command to the compulsion within him that would poison his feeling for her. He consciously recalled times they had been together, when her desire matched his own, or when, even though it didn't, she had taken his cock and come willingly and at little urging. He knew that she gave herself to him in many ways, and at many times, and that other husbands were not so fortunate as he. Slowly his mind brought lightness back to the dark places in his body, and it began to find the rhythm of the day, leaving desire buried. For now.

She awoke alone, as she had too many recent mornings, to a sound she could not quite place. It was the sound of the shower. He was home! She pulled the covers up, looking for a few more minutes of sleep, but it did not come. She knew he would be coming through the door. She loved to see him right out of the shower, and she pictured the body she knew so well, formed and sculpted by years of weights and running and training, like a living sculpture carved by running water.

He entered their room, towel covering his midsection. Trying not hurry, she reached for her glasses, and took him in. His workout showed the muscles of his body, expanded from his exertions, the solid mass of his shoulders and chest, the definition of his arms. Her eyes played across him as he toweled off, and then examined his back as he turned to close the bedroom door.

Her eyes followed him as he moved around. Finally, the towel came away, and she was able to take in all his freshly scrubbed body all at once. Her eyes were drawn to his cock. It was no longer erect, but still jutted prominently from between his legs. Her body reacted to the sight, and she felt her temperature rise.

He dressed as she slowly stretched and began to rise. She made her to him and they embraced. "I'm so glad you're home!"

"Me too."

She pressed against him, waiting to feel the reaction of his cock against her belly. Predictably, it pulsed and swelled against her. She smiled to herself. Content for the moment to know she could still get the reaction she wanted, she went no further. They would be alone today and she thought about how she could persuade him to give her every bit of his body's energy. The thought sent a little shiver of excitement through her center. She had been thinking new thoughts lately. She wanted to bridge a gap she felt between them. She was sure it resulted from the uncertainties and inadequacies her past had created in her mind. Their many years together, even her present happiness, had never truly overcome them. Despite the pleasures they found together, she felt that something held her back. She wanted to break free, to allow herself to be taken to the places she felt she could almost see, just hidden in a mist. Places she felt he longed to go, but didn't, because he did not think she would follow.

____________________

He had eaten a quick breakfast, and left a pot of coffee on for her, and then sat down at the desk in his office. He began to get lost in the daily press of business, catching up from his travels. Eventually he heard sounds of movement in the kitchen. She was up and about, and he came out to greet her. They exchanged good mornings, a quick kiss, and she asked him his plans. Emails, one phone call, which would start soon and end quickly. Her heart leapt. His schedule would not interrupt her plan!

"I'll bring you a treat after your call is over" she said. "I think you'll like it."

She smiled mischievously and embraced him again, her shoulders back and chest forward, so her breasts pressed into him in the hug. "See you soon!"

He went back to work. Almost as soon as he'd hung up from his call, she came in. Her hair was pulled back slickly in a tight pony tail. She was wearing a long robe, closed at the neck, and carrying a tray covered by a large table napkin. She set the try down in front of him, and leaned over to deliver a kiss, soft and wet, in his ear. "I have a little surprise for you" she murmured enticingly in his ear.

She lifted the napkin. On the tray was an assortment of toys: a blindfold, handcuffs, gloves of velvet and of ridged rubber. There were vibrators in various lengths, thicker and slimmer, and a riding crop. The list went on.

"Well, well." He said. "What do you have in mind?" He looked up at her, but she was no longer smiling.

She shook her head.

"The only thing on my mind is you" she said quietly. "I want us to explore. It's for you to decide where we go."

His heart thudded in his chest like a hammer dropping. He pulled her close, seating her on his lap. They began to kiss. She wiggled her bottom on his lap to inspire his cock. His hands found their way inside her robe, and slid up her sides to her breasts. She murmured her acquiescence to his touch, and her hips pressed down on his lap.

His hands played across the tops of her breasts, and into the cleavage between them. She pulled her robe apart, lifted her breasts out of her tight bra, and positioned them so they stood out, firm and round and full, on her chest. The nipples were already hard, sticking out in their desire, reaching out for contact.

"What are you going to do to me?" she whispered.

His hands moved to her hips, and she began to rock back and forth in his lap. His cock was firm and hard, pressed against her as she sat on him. She stood up, and took off the robe. Wispy panties caressed her hips and floated down between her legs to disappear between the round curves of her ass. She turned away, and leaned over the desk.

His hands found her hips again, and she twitched them back and forth. Then, without warning, she turned and knelt between his legs, resting her breasts on the hard cock under his tight jeans. She began to rock against him, and he responded, pushing his hips against her. Then she stopped, and moved lower, until her face was level with his cock. She turned her head, and rested her cheek on his lap, then slowly turned her head until she rested the other cheek on him.

He pressed his hips forward against her, and then growled fiercely. "Let me finish this one thing. Then you are mine!"

Head still pressed firmly against the crotch of his jeans, she nodded slowly up and down. "I'll wait for you in the bedroom." She paused, then swallowed hard. She wasn't sure he had fully gotten her point. "But first..."

She stood up, and took the riding crop from the tray she had brought, and put it in his hand. She leaned over the desk, and said "Spank me!"

Her heart was racing. She held her breath, waiting for the snap of the riding crop on her skin. It didn't come. She gathered her courage, twitched her hips, and said again "SPANK ME!" She waited for him to say something, to do something. Anything! How could he not react to her?!? What was wrong with him?

And then the thought came: "What's wrong with me?"

Tears came to her eyes. Without looking at him, she turned and ran from the room.

He sat there, staring after her in bewilderment.

___________________

After a minute, he stood, turned off his computer, and walked back towards their bedroom.

He could not see her when he first walked in. "Where are you, beautiful?"

"Over here" came a sobbing reply.

She was in the closet.

He walked into the closet. She was in the corner, robe back on and closed all the way to the neck, hiding her face.

"Do you know how much I love you?"

Sniffles in reply.

"Have I been away too long?"

Sniffles, and nodding head.

"Do you know how much I wish right now that I had one clue what was happening behind those beautiful, beautiful eyes of yours?"

She sniffled again, but this time there was a hint of laughter. He walked closer, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Nodding head in reply.

"What in the world is going on?" he whispered in bewilderment.

"Don't you know? I want to please you. I want you to think of me for everything you've ever wanted or dreamed." She turned her eyes down and her voice rose. "BUT I DON'T KNOW WHAT THOSE THINGS ARE! I feel like I'll never know for sure that I can do, or BE, the things you want." She stopped again. Her heart was racing in her chest. She had waited for years to say it, but had always been too afraid. The fear was still there. The fear that she would be rejected, or worse, taken and then rejected. That fear had never gone away -- would NEVER go away on its own. It could only be overcome by the two of them together. If she couldn't find a way to make him understand that in this very moment, she never would.

The words tumbled out in a whispered, choking rush: "You have to tell me! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry -- I just don't know. I've never known! You have to tell me what you want, so that I can do it!"

He was silent.

"What is he thinking? He doesn't want it. He's disappointed that I don't know. I knew he would be! I can't do it." She was almost in tears. She had hoped against hope that her confession would be rewarded, and now she knew, with a certainty built up in all the years of her life that had preceded HIM, that it had been a mistake. Giving, born of hope, would be misused. Again. Hope would turn to disappointment, and disappointment to regret, and regret to anger. On cue, anger flared inside her. "How can he not see that I would give anything - EVERYTHING - to him? That all he has to do is ask for it? Not even ask - just tell me what to do! Isn't that what any man would dream of? If he can't see that, to hell with him!" And then "No. A woman knows how to please a man. He's disappointed, and he should be. Why can't I just know!" she thought desperately to herself. Then: "WHY DOESN'T HE SAY SOMETHING!" she screamed inside her head.

His mind was whirling, trying to take in what she was telling him. Is this what she really wanted? Or was this just a thing she offered to him, because she thought he wanted it, but that she did not really want to give? What if he chose wrong? Would she regret the path that this might take? If she didn't truly want this, it could only lead to regret. And then, eventually, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually, she would feel ... violated. His stomach turned at the thought that she might ever feel that he had taken something from her against her will. He would rather live with a lifetime of longing and unfulfilled desire than have her feel that way about him. The way he knew she felt about other men she had known.

Could he risk it?

She was still waiting, wondering what he was thinking. "WHY DOESN'T HE SAY SOMETHING!?!"

He still could not figure out what to say, what to do: If he opened the conflicted cauldron of his desires to her, and she rejected it, how could he stay with her and maintain his own dignity? Everything would be revealed to have been a fraud, though a happy one, and fraud can only be maintained if both parties deny it exists. It would be the death of their love.

In her mind "SAY SOMETHING!?!"

In his: But she's not a child anymore! She's not the fragile searching girl he had fallen in love with. She was now the woman who was his wife of many years, so much more sensual, so layered and so deep. He longed to dive into her, knowing he could never reach her infinite boundary, but wanting to keep journeying further towards it. She was no child. Shouldn't he accept that she knew what she was offering?

In her mind: "SAY ANYTHING! TOUCH ME!!!"

Seconds were turning like calendar pages. She was waiting. He knew it. On her knees in front of him, offering herself to him, as he had dreamed so many times. This was the thing he had always wanted, the promise of their walk together, the knowledge that either one of them could choose a direction, could follow whatever constellation, and the other would embrace the same journey. Had she finally seen what he saw? Were they looking at the same thing? Did he have to worry that she saw something different, or was she truly offering to follow wherever this might lead? Whatever was in her mind, she was making the offer. Could he reject the chance of having the partnership he had always dreamed they would share? Could she make the journey with him? Had she come far enough to know what it was that she was offering, and its consequence? Did she truly understand? What if the star she was following was not the same one? And yet...