Like go to bed early.
As I’m mentioned before, we live in a rural area. We’re about an hour from anywhere big enough to go out for a night on the town. So it is a constant struggle to decide if we want to be out of the house for several hours, or just stay home and enjoy the quiet while we run around in our underwear.
This weekend, the in-laws took the kids overnight and we opted for staying in. I picked up a couple of nice KC strip steaks to throw on the grill and we settled in with some cheesy b-rated vampire movies.
And booze. My friend the home brewer sent us home with a bottle of his moscato wine last week and my wife popped the cork on Friday. Apparently he makes it pretty stout because, after two glasses, she was out like a light by 10:30.
(I’m going to throw out a “readers discretion advised” warning here. So ladies, if you are squeamish about non-consensual sex topics, you may want to skip the rest of this.)
We often joke about the idea of having sex while she is asleep. Her general attitude has always been, “If you can get it done without waking me, have at it.”
I have never taken her up on this challenge. As you know, I’m working to overcome a severe “Nice Guy” personality. My hesitation is not a moral objection; my fear was based on the idea of her waking up and rejecting me and then I would feel like a complete tool. She says I’m just a pussy.
So here we are. I help her to bed and she is laid out topless in her skimpy underwear and stockings. “If you can get it done without waking me, have at it,” is running through my head. I know she won’t care. As long as she doesn’t get sick, we’ll laugh about it in the morning.
So what the hell, I went for it. It was such an awkward experience that I had to make myself stay with it to completion. She never moved a muscle. I made myself walk away and leave her laying there.
Understand, there is not an ounce of disrespect involved here. My wife is the light of my life. This was just about pushing my comfort zone, knowing that I was well within her comfort zone.
So I turned off the light and went downstairs. An hour later, I came back. Except for pulling the sheet over her, she hadn’t moved. I messed around with her for a few minutes, no reaction. She was out.
What the hell, let’s go for it.
Again, I made myself continue to completion, the whole time waiting for any hint of protest or discomfort. But it never happened. I finished and walked away.
I came to bed at 12:30. I had to push her legs over to her side of the bed and roll her onto her side so I could curl up behind her and tuck her in under the covers. I laid there beside her for about ten minutes and then I got curious. She was still soaking wet. How does that happen? I don’t know, but you know, what the hell.
This time I didn’t finish, just enjoyed her for a while and then curled up and fell asleep.
We woke up on Saturday, and I prepared to tell her about how the rest of the evening went. She beat me to it.
“You had fun last night.”
“Oh really? What do you remember?”
“You fucked me three times.”
“You remember that? How? You were out cold.”
“Nope. I remember all of it.”
“But you just laid there. You never even twitched. How is that possible?”
Shrugs. “I don’t know. Just glad you enjoyed it. I was worried I ruined your evening going to bed so early.”
There is still so much I need to learn about how you crazy women think.