good. The exercise is really paying off.” Made-to-order Janie managed a smile as she stood on the carpet next to the bed. Slowly, she pulled back the covers and moved her body beneath them.
Turning to face him, she smiled again, then closed her eyes and waited for the first move. Within seconds, his hands were on her breasts, squeezing, pulling, rubbing her nipples between his fingers.
“Mmmmm.”
He let out a moan. She couldn’t feel it, really, not the way she used to. The surgery had left the skin desensitized, especially around the nipples where the incisions had been made. But it was more than that. Somewhere along the way, the touches had stopped being about her, about pleasing her. Somehow, they were his tits now, perfectly reconstructed. Perfect perky Daniel funbags. And all of his moves, from the gentlest touch to his most spasmodic thrusting, felt like a kind of taking.
Daniel rolled over on his back and Janie was instantly annoyed. Her mind had been set to a different page of the Daniel Kirk playbook. As she climbed over him, she felt his hands on her hips, gently urging her downward.
Goddamn it!
The escalating annoyance made her feel like screaming. Still, she began the descent. First the token pecks on his chest, then one on his belly. She flipped her hair over one shoulder, getting it out of the way, then opened her mouth and took him in.
Did he really think she was enjoying any of this? Did he not know that his wife had been slowly disappearing for years, living only in the moments she was not with him?
Wake up, Daniel Kirk! Your wife has left the bedroom!
“That’s good,” he whispered. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then slid up and over him again. On nights like this one, when he was in the game for more than the first quarter, he liked her on top because, again, it was the best vantage point for seeing her breasts, and fondling them if he was so inspired. Tonight, he was into the motion of things, holding her hips, directing the action. And with little of her body now engaged, Janie slipped quickly into a state of detachment.
On most occasions, this was the point in time when her mind would fill with trivial things. The morning schedule, errands, grocery lists. Tonight, oddly, she was in a reflective mood, and the thoughts were curious, and then entirely obvious. She had spent more than a little time wondering what had happened to her in this bedroom, how she went from lusty passion to indifference’and tonight utter recoil’at her husband’s touch. In her short but productive pre-Daniel, post-virgin sexual career, she had gone to bed with virtual strangers. And liked it. She had made love to crushes, after the crush had died, but before finding the nerve to break it off. Not the greatest of moments, but still not like this. It was that one time’the time she had not consented, or consented after realizing it was going to happen either way’that had found its way back into her thoughts after so many years. It was a college thing, and as she suspected, a common enough experience for girls who liked to party the way she did. And she had thought little of it, except the occasional pondering over the curious fact that it had not seemed to have caused any lingering trauma in her psyche. Still, it was the distinct feeling of that boy on top of her, the weight of his body bearing down against her folded arms’the futility of her attempts to push against his chest’that was now on her mind.
Straddled over her husband, watching his face contorted with pleasure as he closed his eyes for the home run, she knew there was no one holding her down. No one but herself. And the fact that tonight was requiring unprecedented will could be easily traced to that impulsive encounter, that damned lover who’d awakened the woman who had become a stranger in this house. Janie Kirk had been resuscitated, and now, curiously, the same act she’d performed thousands of times was close to
Turning to face him, she smiled again, then closed her eyes and waited for the first move. Within seconds, his hands were on her breasts, squeezing, pulling, rubbing her nipples between his fingers.
“Mmmmm.”
He let out a moan. She couldn’t feel it, really, not the way she used to. The surgery had left the skin desensitized, especially around the nipples where the incisions had been made. But it was more than that. Somewhere along the way, the touches had stopped being about her, about pleasing her. Somehow, they were his tits now, perfectly reconstructed. Perfect perky Daniel funbags. And all of his moves, from the gentlest touch to his most spasmodic thrusting, felt like a kind of taking.
Daniel rolled over on his back and Janie was instantly annoyed. Her mind had been set to a different page of the Daniel Kirk playbook. As she climbed over him, she felt his hands on her hips, gently urging her downward.
Goddamn it!
The escalating annoyance made her feel like screaming. Still, she began the descent. First the token pecks on his chest, then one on his belly. She flipped her hair over one shoulder, getting it out of the way, then opened her mouth and took him in.
Did he really think she was enjoying any of this? Did he not know that his wife had been slowly disappearing for years, living only in the moments she was not with him?
Wake up, Daniel Kirk! Your wife has left the bedroom!
“That’s good,” he whispered. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then slid up and over him again. On nights like this one, when he was in the game for more than the first quarter, he liked her on top because, again, it was the best vantage point for seeing her breasts, and fondling them if he was so inspired. Tonight, he was into the motion of things, holding her hips, directing the action. And with little of her body now engaged, Janie slipped quickly into a state of detachment.
On most occasions, this was the point in time when her mind would fill with trivial things. The morning schedule, errands, grocery lists. Tonight, oddly, she was in a reflective mood, and the thoughts were curious, and then entirely obvious. She had spent more than a little time wondering what had happened to her in this bedroom, how she went from lusty passion to indifference’and tonight utter recoil’at her husband’s touch. In her short but productive pre-Daniel, post-virgin sexual career, she had gone to bed with virtual strangers. And liked it. She had made love to crushes, after the crush had died, but before finding the nerve to break it off. Not the greatest of moments, but still not like this. It was that one time’the time she had not consented, or consented after realizing it was going to happen either way’that had found its way back into her thoughts after so many years. It was a college thing, and as she suspected, a common enough experience for girls who liked to party the way she did. And she had thought little of it, except the occasional pondering over the curious fact that it had not seemed to have caused any lingering trauma in her psyche. Still, it was the distinct feeling of that boy on top of her, the weight of his body bearing down against her folded arms’the futility of her attempts to push against his chest’that was now on her mind.
Straddled over her husband, watching his face contorted with pleasure as he closed his eyes for the home run, she knew there was no one holding her down. No one but herself. And the fact that tonight was requiring unprecedented will could be easily traced to that impulsive encounter, that damned lover who’d awakened the woman who had become a stranger in this house. Janie Kirk had been resuscitated, and now, curiously, the same act she’d performed thousands of times was close to
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