The Insecurity of a Loving Husband

Her slender fingertips gently slid across the back of my head, lifting my thinning strands of hair. On the battlefield of color, the grays were rapidly overtaking the browns.

Normally, when my wife runs her fingers through my hair, she has a look of thoughtfulness and consideration, the processing of personal and unknown thoughts. Through the years, I've thought that look conveys tenderness.

But this time, I wasn't looking at her. My head was down, my arms wrapped around the twin pillars holding up her knees. The mattress on my end sunk fractionally deeper these days, and I had long ago stopped trying to convince myself that it was because of the age of the coils.

I was in a position of physical strength and control, yet my mind was in turmoil. Her body was still, her hips not a bit of squirm about them. The lack of movement caused me to redouble my efforts and focus.

I probed here and there, searching for any type of resistance. What for me had always been one of the most fun intimacies of our lovemaking, had suddenly become like a reconnaissance mission.

Several minutes silently passed again without a sound or acknowledgement, so as a last resort, I decided to verbally communicate.

"Honey, I'm really starting to think you don't need me anymore," I breathed, glancing up between her twin mountains, ignoring that while the slopes were soft and rounded, the peaks were angry and engorged.

"What are you talking about? Of course, I need you... right there... harder... on the top... yes, that's it....."

I lifted my head again. "You just don't seem to respond like you used to..."

"I'm just enjoying it... yes, right there."

I was doing my best follow her every instruction. Fifteen years of eating her pussy and I still haven't mastered it. In the back of my mind I was worried. Worried the almost daily use of her vibrator had made her less sensitive to my tongue, lips and fingers.

"Give me a finger now....Ahhh.... that's it.... yes... oooooo....yeah....now suck harder...."

It isn't for lack of effort, but how can the human body compete with a machine.

"Right there... harder... yes...... oooooooo good, harder... oooooooooooo......"

I hooked her G-spot with the pad of my middle finger and pistoned my index and ring fingers as deep as I could, sucking on her clitoris as hard as possible.

"Mmmmm.... oh my God......oooooooooooooo...."

She was breathing deep, always a good sign. Her creamy inner thighs were suddenly tickling my ears.

"Don't sssssstopppppppp! That'sssssssss ittttttttt......."

In life, we often face impossible odds but carry on. It is the nature of man to fight unwinnable battles. Seriously, what did I have to offer her except everything my body could give?

"Ahhhhhhhhh.... on the top.....on the top...."

My fingers were cramping from twisting into the proper position. My tongue was on fire. My upper lip felt like it would split open. But the fight was still in me like a punch drunk boxer, taking shot after shot, yet not going down.

"Suck harderrrrr..... that'ssssss itttttttttt."

Perhaps it wasn't me. Perhaps it was the stress of her two jobs, the lack of sleep, the inability to relax, worrying about the boys finding decent jobs after college, or that fucking Hitachi Magic Wand! The one that I bought her. The one she snorted, "Why do you keep buying that junk?" when I presented it to her.

"Yesssssss....... a little morrrrrrrrreeeeeee......"

I sometimes wonder whether it's all worth it. I mean, I care. It's a source of pride for a man. But too many times I've gotten a pat on the head and a "That's good enough, honey..." the consolation prize of a loser husband. Close only counts in hand grenades so the cliché goes.

"Ohhh yeahhhhh..... that's itttttttttt.... on the toppppppppp......"

I mean, I pay the bills, I treat her nicely. I'm fairly patient. I listen to all her stories. Why should a man judge himself on one simple task? I've given her a good life, right? Rescued her from a horrible marriage. Raised her kids. Surely, that counts for something, doesn't it?

"OhhhhhhGODDDDD......yessssssssssss....."

She started panting like a dog on a brutally hot summer day, short shallow breaths in rapid succession with her mouth open. Her thighs squeezed together like an industrial press, my ears flattened like a pancake....

"OhhhhhGODDDD..........Yessssssssss........"

I'm no great lover. Never was, never will be, haunted by my lack of experience and the lost technique of the loveless years of my life. I'm a simple man of flesh and blood, so flawed and imperfect, given to bouts of self doubt....

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh......thank you, Jerrrrrrryyyyy...."

Her legs relax as she sighs... On the pillow her head hangs limp, the tension released from her neck. I pull my fingers out of her sloppy pussy and lick them, savoring each drop of juice like a parched man would savor the morning dew on the leaves of a tree. She tastes warm and familiar, and her fragrance floats in my nostrils, teasing me...

Today, the battle was won. The machine was beaten back, the forces of humanity live another day....

She lays there, staring down at me, eyes glazed over in a sheen of tenderness. The wounded soldier husband gave his all tonight, her look conveys. Protected her, saved her, loved her.

I kiss my way up her body until we're face to face, staring down at her. I know she is relaxed and ready for sleep.

"Hold me, just hold me....please?...." she whispers, almost submissively.

I maneuver beside her, our bodies and souls touching at various points, and suddenly she is asleep, breathing deep, inhaling me as I lay beside her in the chilled bedroom air on a mid-autumn night. I lay back, closing my eyes and wonder about the next battle, and hope I have the strength to carry on....