The Companion Pt. 01

Sylvia and I were cuddling in bed after having made love. We had spent the day apart, me tending to the yard and repairs around the house or on the cars and she at the gym. She suggested we go on a date as the next night was Sunday and she would be in bed early because Monday was a work day. Our date was enjoyable, but it did seem crammed with an awful lot. By the time we got home we were tired, but she insisted we make love. I couldn't nor wanted to turn her down. We spent precious few hours together during the week so she didn't want the opportunity Saturday night provided us to not be taken. Sundays were always too busy with church and watching our grandchildren play sports or giving their parents a break by having their kids at our house. It was nice, but exhausting, and by the time Sunday evening rolled around we were both ready for bed.

We were empty nesters who still worked. She left the house before I even woke up and I returned from work several hours after she was asleep. Our us time was rare. She surprised me one day when she suggested with us having so much space she would get a much better sleep if we had separate bedrooms. I had no idea I had been disrupting her sleep for the months I had been on my new shift. I agreed after she pointed out I snored louder these days and while I was quiet coming to bed I was no ninja. It was weird to be vacating the bedroom we had shared through three decades of marriage. She sensed I was a bit uncomfortable with my decision and told me as she lovingly manipulated my manhood that during my days off we would share the same bed. I felt better about my decision as she coaxed a rather explosive eruption out of my cock.

We had several spare beds and pieces of furniture so it was only a matter of time to make me a bedroom. She had given this lots of thought as she shot down my suggestions on which previous bedroom would be mine. We had converted one bedroom on the upper floor where the master bedroom was into a guest room. She pointed out how much effort she had put into making it a really nice guest bedroom. The other now empty bedroom nearest our bedroom she had me convert into a laundry room. Since I was home most of the day she thought it best I do the laundry. She had a point so I took charge of washing her clothes, hanging the ones she didn't want in the dryer, ironing, and after I had proven my competency, given the task of hand washing her delicates, which involved more hanging.

The one bedroom left on that floor was now our grandkids' play and sleep over room. Most of the time they insisted on sharing our bed and we just didn't have the heart to tell them no.

She suggested I make my bedroom in the basement. The basement was nice, offered plenty of room, had its own bathroom, and was far enough away that my activities or snoring wouldn't disturb her. We spent the better part of a weekend fixing it up. She even bought me a big tv and set up the recliner so I could do my two favorite pastimes, read and watch sports.

For several months I spent Monday through Friday sleeping in the basement and Saturday and Sunday back in the master bedroom with her. She said she was getting much better sleep.

Due to my schedule I already did the house cleaning and since she considered the cars and yard man work I was responsible for those activities. I didn't mind because I actually enjoyed cleaning the house, doing the dishes, laundering and ironing, maintaining the cars, and yard work.

After one particularly enjoyable Saturday she asked if I minded sleeping in the basement on Sundays. She pointed out it wasn't my snoring but the game on the tv. I told her I could watch the game in the living room then come to bed after it was over.

She said that wouldn't work because I'd wake her up when I got in bed. For someone who wasn't a light sleeper she carried on like she was. She then said I shouldn't have to move twice on her account as I could watch the tv in my recliner or from my bed in the basement.

I agreed to her request and we were soon sleeping apart six days out of seven. She told me one subsequent Saturday that she had read an article about the growing trend of couples having separate bedrooms and that her ladies' group discussed it. She asked if it embarrassed me to be the topic of discussion. I told her it didn't. She said good because she had discussed our sleeping arrangements with them. She said she also praised my skills as housekeeper, yard boy, and auto mechanic.

One of her friends asked, "Sylvia, what do you do if Frank does everything?"

She said, "Absolutely Nothing."

Instead of feeling stung at being on the short end of the stick I defended our arrangement telling her she deserved a break after all the years she spent pampering the kids.

She asked, "So you don't feel cheated?"

I answered, "Not at all. I've always been a bit of a homebody."

She pointed out we still had our date night Saturdays together and with a mischievous grin said, "And you know what happens after the date."

They got the picture knowing we were having sex Saturday nights. It actually became a standing joke in our circle of friends when Sylvia and I would cut out a little early on a Saturday evening.

While I was sleeping in the basement I was doing everything else in the master bedroom. I had half the closet and my toiletries in the bathroom.

Over a candlelit dinner where we shared a bottle of wine Sylvia rubbed my hand ever so gently as she talked about how well I took care of her. My chest swelled with pride. She talked about how the seasons were about to change and she would be breaking out her winter clothes which she stored in another bedroom closet and how she hated having to swap them out because there were days when it was still rather warm. I saw where she was headed and being the gallant I am I suggested moving my clothes and toiletries to my bedroom in the basement.

Needless to say Super Sex Saturday was pretty damn incredible that night.

A few months later after talking about my snoring she guilted me into vacating the bed after another fun Saturday. We were snuggling. She was falling asleep as I spooned against her when she mumbled about hoping I wouldn't snore too loud. I didn't want to be the cause of her having a bad sleep so I let her fall asleep before exiting the bed and heading to the basement.

She made my favorite dinner that Sunday to show how much she appreciated my thoughtfulness. I assured her it was no problem. She said, "That was my best sleep ever. Expertly satisfied then drifting off as you held me. I felt so loved."

I thanked her for the praise and told her it's because I loved her.

While she had shared our sleeping arrangements with her close circle of friends, she was a bit more reticent doing so with our kids and family. She worried our kids would think something was wrong.

I understood her concern and some of her friends had reacted quite negatively to our arrangement, but I told her to ignore them. What worked for our marriage was of no concern to them. I told her I was going to tell our kids and would break the news to our families when they visited. After hearing me explain the reasons why our kids thought it made perfect sense.

I didn't do yard work in the winter or too much with the cars as it was too cold outside so Sylvia picked out some colors and had me paint the walls of the master bedroom and bath. She then suggested we take our income tax refund and spend it on a new bedroom set and mattresses. After the furniture arrived she bought comforters in colors that reflected her tastes.

By spring, our master bedroom was referred to as Sylvia's bedroom and my bedroom as Frank's bedroom. The weather was getting nicer and the days longer, but I wasn't around to enjoy them with her.

Our date night stayed the same, but Super Sex Saturday changed. Due to menopause, Sylvia complained penetrative sex just wasn't as enjoyable as it was earlier in our marriage. We tried lubricating gels, but she didn't find them to her liking. As much as I liked being intimate with her via intercourse I didn't want it if it hurt her.

Sylvia was never very keen on performing fellatio as she said my dick was a bit wide for her mouth. With her vagina now off limits to my cock and tubes of gel at her disposal Sylvia taught herself how to give world class handjobs. They were wonderful I told her and a huge surprise. She liked me to be flat on my back. She would sit between my open legs, lubricate my penis and over the course of fifteen to twenty minutes bring me to the point of climaxing a dozen times before allowing me to release.

It was late spring when we were having super sex Saturday that she told me how lonely her weeks were. Saturdays she said were the only bright spot in her week. My initial reaction was tremendous guilt. I told her I could find another job with a schedule that lined up with hers.

She said, "Frank, don't do that. You like your job. Besides we can't afford for you to take a different job if it means less money."

I answered, "I do like my job, but not as much as I love you. It hurts me to see you so lonely. As for the money, you make a very good point. I'm not going to find a job that pays as well, especially at my age. I'm also not going to retire anytime soon."

Normally when Sylvia shares her feelings with me she isn't looking for a solution, but an empathetic ear. This time wasn't one of those instances.

"Don't you have any friends you can do things with?"

"My married friends are doing things with their husbands. My single female friends and I don't share the same interests. Besides it wouldn't be the same doing things with them I enjoy doing with you as a couple."

Everything she said made sense so I suggested a fix, "Do you have any male friends you want to do things with?"

She looked at her handiwork and my face as she contemplated her answer.

"Well, there is one man from last summer. He's a widower, a few years older than us. I golfed with him on a foursome several times. He told me if I ever wanted to golf, just the two of us, to give him a call. He said he has plenty of free time as he's no longer working."

"I don't remember you telling me."

Sylvia insisted, "I did. You just forgot."

"Do I know him?"

"No."

"What's his name?"

"John."

I mulled it over. I felt pulled in a couple of directions. I hated her being lonely and if spending afternoons golfing would be good for her mental health she should do it. Another side of me was jealous that she needed a companion because I wasn't around.

As her fingers took me almost there a half dozen times she didn't say a word. She was leaving this decision one hundred percent up to me. She also wasn't going to allow me to achieve my desired end state without an answer.

I told her, "You should take him up on his offer and call him."

She was in a state of disbelief because she asked me, "You're seriously okay with this?"

I told her I was and those fingers of her tightened their grip and took me over the edge.

Sylvia had a habit of pampering me when she got her way and that evening was no different. She told me to lay there. She got up and returned with a wet warm wash cloth a few minutes later. As she wiped me clean she said, "Frank, thank you, thank you. I love you so much right now."

"I love you too Sylvia."

Our normal Super Sex Saturday consisted of she getting her pleasure first followed by me, then a half hour of cuddling, followed by me exiting the bed as quiet as I could and heading to the basement. That night was different because it was the first time in a very long time she wanted me to take her on a second magic carpet ride. It was so good I was ready for a second magical experience of my own.

She saw my excited state and told me to coat myself with a lot of gel. When I saw what she had in mind I told her we didn't have to as I didn't want to hurt her.

She said, "Just go fast."

I laughed because that had never been a problem in our decades of marriage. While I loved intercourse with her I had never been very good at it. I was the proverbial Minute Man. If there had been a picture next to the definition of PE my face would be on it. It had never been an issue because cunnilingus, not intercourse, had been the mainstay of our lovemaking for decades.

I mounted her for the first time in months and gently eased my way into her asking as I did if she was experiencing discomfort. She looked a bit uncomfortable and said she had forgotten how big I was. She told me to take it slow. I lasted considerably longer than I normally do, the result of going slow and having just climaxed earlier. She brought her hand between us and rubbed her clitoris. Immediately after I came she urged me to pull out.

She said she didn't mean to hurt my feelings but she couldn't wait until I was done. She said I was just too big for her these days. She said she felt guilty which is why she suggested intercourse. She pointed out how sweet I was to have said yes. I told her she shouldn't feel guilty. Her handjobs I pointed out were world class. Besides there was more to sex than intercourse.

After she fell asleep in my arms I quietly got out of bed and headed to my bed where I thought about this John fellow and Sylvia golfing. I also looked at my penis. From everything I had read my penis was average. Funny how it was now too big. Another one of life's mysteries you don't read about in a book about sex.

Midweek she texted me, "Finally talked to John. We're golfing on Friday. Excited. He's picking me up. Thanks. You're the best."

I was proud of myself as a husband for bringing some sunshine into my wife's life. I also considered myself a bit more cosmopolitan and mature than my male friends who would have been incensed at the mere idea of their wife doing something social with another man. This John fellow made a good impression on me by offering to pick up Sylvia.

I did wonder on Friday how their outing was going. The day was certainly beautiful enough. Saturday, I woke up to an empty house. I had gone to bed much later than usual so I slept in. I made myself a cup of coffee and retrieved the newspaper. On the refrigerator door Sylvia had left a note advising me she was at the drivIng range. I chuckled wondering if John shellacked her the day prior. I remembered she had a very competitive streak in her.

She texted me close to noon to announce she was coming home. I texted her back asking if she was hungry. She was and told me what she wouldn't mind me making. She got home as I was almost done making us lunch.

We sat and ate. I asked her about her golf date. She said it had gone very well and gave me a rundown on each of the eighteen holes they played. My eyes must have had a glazed look because she ap9ogized for boring me. I told her I wasn't bored, just not a golfer. I told her I was just happy she had such a good time. She thanked me and said it really had been a great experience. She didn't say anything specific about John.

The next couple of months John and Sylvia continued to golf. What was a once a week outing turned into three times a week. She even shared with me how they often ended their outing with a trip to the nineteenth hole for a drink and dinner.

Date night followed by Super Sex Saturday continued to be our routine, but Sylvia began to do a lot more talking while she gave me one of her handjobs. As she ran her hand or hands up and down my very swollen cock she went to great lengths to delay my climax. One of her ploys was to bring up something she wanted me to do which of course I readily agreed to. It was her way of getting me to attend to the honey do list. The other was to talk about her golf game.

Hearing about her golf game really delayed my ejaculation because I found it mind numbingly boring, Birdies, eagles. bogies, strokes, missed putts, drives, roughs, ball speed. I finally had to tell her, "Surely you and John do more than golf. What do the two of you talk about?"

Sylvia's eyes lit up, "We talk about everything. Politics, movies, food, family, marriage, kids, and grandkids, sports. I told him all about you and how you spoil me."

Jealousy is what prompted me to ask her to tell me about their conversations about me. John and Sylvia did more talking about more varied subjects than Sylvia and I did. I was curious to know what she said about me.

"I told him how we met and how you've always pampered me, especially now that the kids are gone. He wished he had done more for his wife, but says he was a bit of a chauvinist."

My penis actually swelled hearing Sylvia speak so highly of me."

She noticed it too and asked if I was feeling a bit jealous.

I lied and said I wasn't, but we both knew that wasn't the truth. She stopped talking about John and started talking about how big my penis was, that it looked purple and angry. She squeezed the shaft to make it turn an even deeper purple. With her other hand she caressed my scrotum.

She told me as she pumped my cock, "Frank, I love you."

I told her I loved her too as my penis shot three or four big streams of ejaculate onto my belly.

Before I headed down to the basement we cuddled for a few minutes? Laying there as she drifted off to sleep in my arms I felt like a fool for being jealous. I whispered to her, "I'm sorry."

She mumbled, "About what?"

I answered, "Being jealous."

"It was no big deal. John told me to expect it, but he said you'll get over it."

I wanted to hear more, but she was sound asleep.

I lay there wondering what made John make such a comment. How did it even get brought up? I thought I had been very accommodating. I wondered if Sylvia had detected a different vibe coming off of me. I vowed to behave more maturely and to be more supportive of their palling around. Maybe I thought John had other female friends whose husbands weren't so keen at first, but like he said they got over it.

I extricated myself from Sylvia and headed to my bedroom.

As summer winds down, the winds change direction bringing more and more moisture in from the ocean to the south. The heat and the moisture makes for a potent mix. Blue skies are replaced by grey and rain falls, lots of rain, for days on end. It lasts but a month and it's badly needed in a place as dry as this, but it sure puts a damper on outdoor activities.

Super Sex Saturday I am on my back and Sylvia is sitting cross legged between my wide spread legs. Her hands are slick with olive oil as we've used the last of the KY. I tell her it's not as slick as the gel, but it gets the job done and it has a nice smell.

I study her upper body and think she has really kept herself in shape. Her breasts still have very little sag to them. She has some stretch marks, but that's to be expected after having four kids. Her complexion is good. I feel very fortunate. I look at my own body which is a bit pudgy, the result of a sedentary lifestyle, too much cake, and not enough exercise. I make a note I need to cut back on my calories.

She is very focused. Her hands feel magical. She and I hadn't talked all week and we had some catching up to do. I made it a point to ask about John. She said he was doing fine. I told her that was good to hear. I then asked if he had seen his kids and grandkids. She said he had, that he was going to visit the one who lived out of state. I asked about her golf game.

She gripped my cock rather firmly as she pouted, "We had to cancel twice this week because of the rain."

She really looked bummed.

I told her I was sorry she didn't get to spend time with him.

She asked, "Are you being catty?"

I told her, "Absolutely not. I just know how much you enjoy your time spent with him."

She ran her hand up and down my shaft, but when she got to the head, she ground her palm against the urethra as she rotated her hand. It was a combination of pain and pleasure, but more pleasure than pain. It made me feel like I wanted to pee, but my swollen penis wasn't going to allow it. She took her other hand and squeezed the shaft while she tortured the head of my penis. She was irritating the hell out of my slit, but I didn't want her to stop.