Page 20 of Sex. Love. Marriage.
Kate: Just fuck your husband already. Grab him by the dick tip and make him love you!
Me: Well, if I grab him by the dick tip, pretty sure that will lead to something.
Kate: Believe me, gurl, divorce isn’t always better! Btw, Ashlynn’s clit is pierced. I’m thinking of getting one. Wanna do it too?
Me: Goodnight, Kate.
Clit ring? She’s lost her mind. Kate’s right on some level, and between you and me, I don’t want a divorce. Far from it. I want to make this work. I love Noah. I love who I am with him. I just don’t like what we’ve become.
What’s my plan for getting past the distance? Sex. We started with sex. Surely we remembered how it worked. I might be questioning our relationship and where it’s heading in the wake of our daughter’s death, but if anything could fix the void between us, it could be sex, right? My therapist would be frowning, and you might be too, thinking to yourself, that’s incredibly unhealthy, Kelly. The thing is, I’m willing to do anything to escape my own head most days, and if that means fucking my husband because I want to avoid what’s really happening between us, I’m going to do that.
So I think, not a good idea this late at night and after two glasses of wine, but I think I should watch Ashlynn’s videos. It can go one of two ways. I’ll get some ideas, or I’ll never be able to talk to our neighbor again. But seriously, it’s not every day you find out your neighbor’s a porn star. I kind of want to see how a professional is doing it.
Two minutes in and I’m slightly disturbed by what I’m watching, and strangely, turned on. I won’t go as far to say I’m learning anything new, but it gets me thinking that this might be our answer to finding the spark again. Maybe I could try some of this on Noah? Does he want me to suck his cock to the point my mascara’s all over my face? Does he want me to choke on it? I feel like I should be taking notes on positions and her technique. Like maybe I could interview her.
And then Noah walks in. Yep. So that happened. I reacted as any wife watching porn would. I threw the evidence, aka the iPad, at the wall. It hits with a thud, takes a chunk out of the drywall and then cracks the screen.
Fuck. He’s going to be pissed about that one.
Double fuck… it’s still playing the porno.
My hands restlessly fidget with the hem of my shirt, my cheeks a burning shade of bright fucking red. I’m serious. They’re so hot I think I can fry an egg on it. I’ve never in my life been that embarrassed. Finally, I glance up at my husband’s prying eyes. “I… uh…. I got nothing.”
Noah tips his head at the screen, trying to decipher what’s on it. When he hears moaning and the words “Fuck my ass with your cock,” it’s pretty much a dead giveaway as to what’s going down there. Now for his reaction. Will he be mad? Will he laugh? Will he be hurt that I’d been watching porn without him?
Naturally, my fucking husband bursts out laughing. And I’m not talking about a chuckle or a cute little snicker. The motherfucker is doubled over holding his stomach like it’s the funniest goddamn thing he’s ever seen in his life. Funnier than when Oliver told my mother at age three, “Make my fucking lunch!” when she took too long preparing his macaroni and cheese.
“Are you fucking watching porn without me?” And then he’s ripping off his clothes like he’s Finley and I said it’s bath time. “Let me see what you’re watching?”
“No. And you’re drunk,” I point out, noticing him stumbling around trying to gain balance as he’s taking his clothes off. He manages to get one shoe off, and then a sock. Just one. “I wasn’t watching porn.” I wave my hand around in the air. “It was an ad that popped up.”
He looks at me with intensity, but his smirk is playful. Eagerly, he yanks his shirt off and throws it haphazardly in the room. It catches the blades of the ceiling fan and hangs there. “I am notthatdrunk, and that kind of thing doesn’t just pop up unless you’ve beensearchingporn.”
Fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, I glance up and take in his swaying demeanor. “Really? You’re leaning against the wall for support.”
“Nope. It’s just more comfortable this way.”
“Fine. Stand up straight.”
He tries. Fails. Lands on the bed.
I laugh when he scurries eagerly between my legs with his head. Tucking his hands underneath me, he squeezes my ass cheeks and groans into my upper thigh. “God, that’s so hot that you were watching porn.” Licking his lips slowly, his eyes are hooded for the same reason I find myself panting beneath his stare. There it is. The spark. The connection I remember.
I twist my fingertips into his hair and then grip harder, and pull until he peeks up at me. “How do you know ads don’t just pop up unless you’ve been searching porn yourself?”
“I’m not saying I haven’t been.” His eyes fall to between my legs. “Take these off.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re so romantic.”
He tries to pull at my leggings but gets nowhere. Have you heard that saying, “You’re wearing that dress, girl?” It goes for leggings too because when you’re wearing Lululemon leggings, you’rewearingthem. All of you who have ever worn leggings, know what the fuck I’m talking about. Those babies aren’t coming off without some work. “I’d do it for you, but I can’t. Are these glued on?”
“They’re made with Lycra,” I point out while avoiding taking them off. I even go as far as to avoid eye contact because I’m still shocked he caught me checking out our neighbor in a porno.
“What?”
“Can you even get it up?” I tease, but clearly that’s not a problem when I look at the bulge between his legs.
Noah looks at me with the same flat expression he gave me when I told him, jokingly, we should have another baby last week. “Why are we talking and notfucking?”
