The Domestic Equality War Pt. 02

It was nearly midnight and Bryan was still not home. He'd probably gone to see a movie. Becky tried to watch a movie herself, but she was unable to concentrate, so she went to bed early, but it felt like she'd need a miracle to fall asleep. Her mind was turning over and over, trying to find a way back from this mess. One thought was to get back up, wait downstairs and apologise to Bryan when he got home. But another thought warned her against it.

'He's trying to sabotage things,' said an inner voice. 'He wants you to drop the whole equal partnership thing so he can go back to being the "Man of the House". Don't do it, Becky. You have a right to equality.'

'Yes,' thought Becky, 'but what about that thing I said?'

'A slip of the tongue,' said the voice. 'And if Bryan hadn't behaved like such a pig, you would never have said it in the first place. You're a good person, Becky, and the fact that Bryan upset you so badly that you said something mean just shows you how bad he is! He should be apologising to you.'

Becky heard the faint but unmistakeable sound of the front door opening and closing. Bryan was home. Becky turned so that her back was to the bedroom door and lay in bed, her heart pounding in suspense. She was almost certain that Bryan would be his stubborn self and climb into bed without saying a word, but you never knew ... miracles could happen. In the past when Bryan realised he was wrong, he would take Becky in his arms and murmur 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry...' over and over in her ear, until she forgave him. She loved it when that happened and Becky hugged herself as she lay in bed, imagining her man coming in and doing just that. So comforting was the thought, that she dozed off and ended up being fast asleep by the time Bryan climbed into bed.

The following day, both parties acted as though nothing had happened. They were actually getting quite good at it. 'Becky and Bryan' became 'Mummy and Daddy', loving parents to a beautiful little girl and busy grown-ups with a job to do. Bryan in particular played the role to the hilt, and his manner was so warm and his banter so funny that Becky honestly thought he'd got over their fight. It was Daddy's turn to take Tara to nursery school and when he picked her up, legs swinging, to give Mummy a kiss, Mummy had planted a second kiss on Daddy's mouth.

Daddy's mouth kissed back, but his eyes went cold and, for a second, Becky saw a look of utter contempt. Then Daddy was back and the banter went on, and Becky found herself waving goodbye and wondering if she'd imagined it. 'Daddy' seemed so full of cheer that it was hard to believe it was just a performance.

This situation went on for some days. Mummy and Daddy went to work, came home, took care of Tara, and did household chores in strict accordance to their equality agreement. An outsider would have been hard pushed to see anything wrong. Even when Tara was in bed, Mummy and Daddy would talk to each other, although topics never strayed from their jobs, their daughter, and the latest Netflix specials.

But there was no sex.

That first night established the pattern: Bryan stayed downstairs until late, so every evening Becky found herself undressing, brushing her teeth and going to bed alone. If she was awake when Bryan came to bed, he wished her a polite goodnight and lay on his back, as silent as a stone knight on a tomb. Becky had decided that if he wanted sex, then he would have to make the first move. But he never did and, not for the first time, Becky found herself wondering where the hell she had got the idea that men were incapable of going without sex for more than a couple of days. Bryan appeared not only frustratingly free of frustration - he actually seemed comfortable with the new status quo.

After more than two weeks, Becky had had enough. It was nearly eleven on a Thursday night and she was wearing a skimpy black nightie which showed off her figure ... and Bryan was not there to see it. She pulled on her pink silk dressing gown, then debated for a moment whether to tie it or leave it open. She decided on open and swept downstairs in bare feet.

Bryan had his own feet up on the living room couch and was reading a brand-new obscenely thick book - and halfway through this one as well! Becky took a deep breath, shook away her annoyance and sat on the edge of the couch next to the man's legs. Bryan didn't move, but his eyes went from the book to the woman's face.

'Bryan, we can't go on like this,' she said.

Bryan's eyes flickered. He reached for the bookmark by his leg, placed it in the book and closed it. He then placed the book on his lap and turned his head to look at Becky. Becky, for her part, wanted to punch him. His whole manner said: 'You are now taking me away from my free moment.' She could even imagine him making a note on his fucking spreadsheet.

'Are you just going to sit there?' said Becky testily.

'You're the one who came down to talk.'

'Oh, so it's all up to me, is it?'

Bryan let out a groan. It was laden with weariness, as though Becky were a harpy sent by the gods to torment him. She sprang up, her fists clenched.

'Fuck you, Bryan!' she cried. 'I want to try and save our relationship and all you care about is that I took you out of your stupid book!'

'All right...'

'No! It's not all right—'

'All right! Enough!'

Bryan was on his feet, book tumbling aside, and he took the woman in his arms. Becky wanted to push him away, to shove him in the chest ... and yet, it was so nice to feel Bryan again. He had his arms all the way round her and was murmuring, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry...' as he held her head in the crook of his neck. Those arms and those words enveloped her like a warm blanket, slowly calming the turmoil inside her. It struck Becky as unfair that Bryan could do this for her while he was so emotionally self-sufficient himself, but after so many lonely evenings, she decided this was an issue for another time. Her own hands slowly made their cautious way up his back and onto the muscles under his shoulder blades.

Husband and wife stood and held one another for many minutes. Then Bryan let out an audible breath to signal he was ready to end the embrace. Becky responded by holding on tighter, turning her head to rest her cheek against his collar bone.

'Don't let go of me,' said Becky.

'Okay.'

Bryan moved his body and hands to a more comfortable position and continued holding his wife. He could tell she was struggling with something and he waited for her to find the words.

'Bryan...' she said, and her voice was small and vulnerable. 'I want us to make love.'

'I know,' he said. 'And we will.'

'No, I mean now. As in, right now.'

'Becky...'

'I want us to go upstairs and get naked and make love. Right now.'

'And I think we should talk first.'

'I don't trust us to solve this by talking.'

Becky felt Bryan's breathing catch. With her face on his upper chest, she could almost feel the man taking what she'd said and turning it over in his mind, the way a builder might examine a brick.

'All right,' said Bryan. 'I agree.'

'My god, I've said something he agrees with.'

'That doesn't mean I think it'll work.'

'Maybe not, but at least we'll get a fuck out of it.'

Bryan laughed. Then he squeezed Becky close and buried his face in her hair.

'Sometimes, Becks,' he said, 'I remember why I fell in love with you.'

'Oh, Bryan ... Christ...'

And Becky burst into tears.

***

The climbing of the stairs that night was a strange experience for both of them. They went up holding hands, yet both felt distant from each other. Neither was in the mood for sex. Bryan's inner voice was ranting on about how Becky had yet to apologise for the whole 'acts of kindness' thing. Becky's inner voice was chastising her for having asked a man for sex.

They took it in turns to use the bathroom, both having a pee and brushing their teeth. Without knowing it, both gave their genitals a quick wash by the sink and, as they dried themselves, both had the thought, 'Why am I doing this?' Becky was the first to use the bathroom, so she was already naked in bed when Bryan came into the bedroom. He stripped off and joined her.

They took a few moments arranging themselves. Bryan lay on his back and Becky lay in his arms. Neither felt like kissing. Bryan opened his mouth and said:

'So, how do you—'

Becky's hand went to his mouth, cutting him off. The message was clear: no talking. Bryan felt a flash of anger. 'God damn it!' he thought. 'There she goes again, still making the rules!' Sensing his anger, Becky took one of Bryan's big hands in her two smaller ones and placed it firmly over her own mouth. Then, keeping it in place with one hand, she reached down with the other and started playing with his balls and penis.

Bryan lay on his back, his hand over his wife's mouth, feeling her hand on his genitals. Far from being turned on, he felt angry and absurd. Okay, his penis was growing hard, but that was an automatic response. He found himself resenting how it responded to her touch. 'Don't you know she's a hypocrite!' he shouted in his mind.

His hand over her mouth also felt wrong. No, not just wrong - offensive. Did Becky think he had some secret desire to shut her up? That stopping her talking turned him on? Bryan was offended by that. He liked talking to Becky! He even kind of liked arguing with her. And he liked her voice too - she had a sexy voice when she wasn't being shrill. No, it was the hypocrisy he couldn't stand, her refusal to listen. In those moments when she railed at him while simultaneously breaking her own damn rules, he didn't want to shut her up ... he wanted to kill her.

Bryan's heart began pounding and his breathing quickened. 'No!' he thought. 'I'm not like that!' Becky felt the change in his breathing and gave a groan of arousal as she grabbed his cock. Bryan felt a surge of contempt for her flood his body. 'You stupid bloody woman!' he thought. 'Do you really think it's you that's turning me on?' And his hand went from her mouth to her throat.

The moment his palm felt the warm delicacy of her neck, his erection went solid, his penis-head stretched round and purple. Becky felt the change and gasped in surprise. Bryan felt it too and, shocked, tried to pull his hand away. But Becky's hand had followed his down and now she held fast, telling his hand to stay where it was. Her whole body began moving, wriggling against his like a giant snake, her foot stroking up and down his legs. Bryan felt her fingers pressing his hand, inviting it to squeeze. She made a pleading sound in her throat and, with her other hand, took hold of his balls. Bryan let out a grunt and squeezed.

The moment he felt his hand pressing into her neck, a thrill shot through his body. His penis-head felt hyper-sensitive, the slightest touch sending a shudder through his legs. If Becky put her hand around his cock now, he would instantly ejaculate - he could feel it. And the knowledge that taking his wife by the throat turned him on this much sent the voices screaming in his head. 'You monster!' 'You bastard!' 'You misogynistic piece of shit!'

Bryan pulled his hand away. Becky instantly twisted round, launching herself at him and burying her mouth on his face. She grabbed his head by the hair, pulling it to her and driving her tongue into his mouth. The invitation could not have been more blatant, and Bryan felt as though he were being pushed aside by another presence in his body which said, 'Leave this to me.' He grabbed the woman, lifted her bodily into the air and thumped her back down on the mattress. It broke the kiss, but he wasn't after her mouth. He roughly pushed her knees open, positioned himself and drove his cock into her cunt, pushing down so that his curving erection entered her without slipping out. Becky let out a groan from deep in her gut and Bryan held her body and fucked her hard - one, two, three, four ... at five, he pushed in deep, held her tight, and came.

It was a glorious orgasm, semen pulsing through a cock so sensitised, he could actually feel it entering his woman - yes, his woman, damn it! his mind roared at the small voice which wanted to say, 'Um ... inappropriate?' Bryan dared any voice to take him away from this moment and they all quailed and slunk off. The man held fast and immersed himself in the experience of emptying himself - pulse by pulse - into this beautiful, unreliable woman. And when the orgasm was over and the pulsing had stilled to nothing, Bryan continued to feel the delicious warmth of the vagina he had just taken.

Then Becky sighed. It was the tiniest of sounds, slightly louder than an outbreath, and yet in that tiniest of sounds, Bryan heard a deep, deep satisfaction. It was the satisfaction of a woman who had got what she wanted - who had got all the elements of her life in a pretty little row - and Bryan suddenly felt the urge to put his mouth to her ear and say in his coldest, nastiest voice: I suppose this means I now have to do the laundry?

Bryan held himself still, his cock in his woman, his jaws clamped shut, as his thoughts seethed and crashed against the inside of his skull. 'Bitch, bitch, bitch...' ranted a voice in his head. 'Bestowing her "Acts of Kindness" upon you! You'll owe her for this! You wait and see! She doesn't love you! She's only letting you do this because there's something she wants!'

'Bryan?'

Bryan heard the concern, even fear, in Becky's voice. He could literally feel her body's softness and vulnerability. She was totally open, totally exposed. If he spoke now, his words would burn like acid, cutting deeper than a stake through the heart. He could smash all her precious ideas about a 'loving home'. There would never be a better moment.

'Bryan, talk to me.'

'I...'

God, he was dying to say it. Bryan screwed up his face and what burst out in desperation was: 'I'm in a fight with my ego.'

The moment he said it, he knew it was true. Then he heard Becky gasp and, in that gasp, Bryan heard the end of his marriage. He had broken the cardinal rule: that when a man makes love to a woman, he pays attention to her, he focuses on her, he keeps his mind on her. And Bryan had basically just admitted that he was busy with his own thoughts while he was literally inside her vagina. It was the kind of thing women would criminalise if they could and he waited with a pounding sense of dread for the explosion.

It never came.

Instead, he felt Becky's entire body relax. His head was taken gently in both her hands and she moved it so that she could look him in the face. Her eyes were full of concern and, yes, love.

'How can I help?' she said.

Bryan was so moved, so relieved, that he burst into tears. He held his wife and cried like an infant, his face in her neck, his cock finally slipping out as he alternated between bouts of sobbing and saying, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry...' over and over again.

***

When Becky insisted to Bryan that they had to make love 'right now', it was prompted by pure instinct. Even her remark about not trusting them to solve their issues by talking had been spoken without thinking.

This feeling first came up when she and Bryan were standing in the living room holding one another. Bryan had sighed to give the signal he was ready to end the embrace and Becky had asked him not to let go. And as Bryan held her in his big strong arms, she had asked herself, 'How can I get him back?' The answer had come from deep in her gut: Have sex with him.

Her mind was offended. A hundred objections bombarded her brain. Becky felt herself torn in two directions - her body wanted the man's hands and touch and lovemaking, while her mind called him 'asshole' and said he didn't deserve her sexual favours. Almost in desperation, Becky turned to her gut feeling to see if it could come up with something else. It seemed to shrug and say: You asked a question and this is the answer. Take it or leave it.

It was the detachment which convinced her. All the other voices were righteous and judgemental, but under that judgement was the fear of being ignored. The gut feeling didn't care one way or the other. So Becky had taken a deep breath and—ignoring the inner screams of 'No-o-o!'—she told Bryan that they had to make love 'right now'.

What followed was an emotional rollercoaster. Becky felt Bryan connect, then go distant, connect, then go distant, over and over, increasing in intensity. She found it deeply unnerving to be naked in bed and play with a penis and balls while the man attached to them lay in stony, aggressive silence. Had she not had his hand over her mouth, Becky would have said something, asked him what he wanted, anything. Then his hand moved to her throat and Becky was seized by panic. She turned again to her instinct and mentally cried 'Help!'

Her instinct responded, shorting her brain out like a town in a power cut, and Becky found herself a passenger in her own body. Her hand was encouraging Bryan to strangle her and her body started rubbing itself against him like a panting slut dying for a fuck. Becky found herself enjoying the experience and wondering how Bryan would react. He was such a thinker, always in his head, but Becky could sense something else in there, something wild and brutal, and she wanted it to come out to play. When he pulled his hand away, Becky leapt at him in rage, wanting to rip off his face for his cowardice. Instead, she grabbed his hair and kissed him, begging the monster to come out.

And it did. My god, did it ever.

When Becky felt herself being lifted into the air and slammed down onto the mattress, she honestly thought she'd been grabbed by a supernatural force. She had no idea Bryan was that strong! And when he pushed her legs open - more like a Viking rapist than a loving husband - Becky was shocked at how excited this made her. This wasn't 'Bryan' - this was some tribal chieftain who fucked his women with brutal efficiency. When the man fucked her and came, grunting like a beast, Becky felt the creeping warmth in her stuffed vagina and wanted the moment to continue forever. She had him! She had all of him. She could feel it.

Then, from that highest of highs, the rollercoaster plunged, diving to the ground and disappearing beneath it, thundering towards a hell of darkness and cold. Bryan was gone and Becky was underneath a man made of stone. Even the cock inside her felt cold as granite. She spoke his name and there was no response, nothing. The voices in her head came back with a vengeance, screaming like a chorus of ghosts: 'He hates you!' 'He's using you!' 'He wants to punish you!' Finally, Becky couldn't take it anymore.

'Bryan, talk to me.'

She felt the giant shift. She sensed anger and rage. Then Bryan spoke and, in his voice, she heard the strain of a man holding a door against an army of demons who were pounding on the other side.

'I ... I'm in a fight with my ego,' he said.

The words went off like a firework in her brain, the lights of the town coming back on. Becky gasped. Of course it was his ego! That explained everything! All their fighting and disagreements, right down to the hoovering issue! He wasn't fighting her because he thought she was wrong - he fought her because he knew she was right, but his ego wouldn't let him admit it! The spreadsheets, the oh-so-articulate arguments, even that bullshit about principles - all manifestations of Bryan's male ego!

This admission changed everything. It put Becky in charge, because whatever Bryan said now could be put down to his ego. But Becky also saw that rubbing his nose in it would just lead to more fighting. No, she had to be generous in victory. She had to be patient as he dealt with the fact that he had been wrong all this time. She had to be kind. So, she turned his head and gently said, meaning every word: