(Courtney is a teacher in New York City, and a student in Janice's private writing class. Her blog is here.)
It was supposed to be a nice little quickie before bed.
We hadn’t had sex in weeks. Maybe months. Our once active and surprisingly exciting sex life had long since been replaced by progesterone creams, hormone shots, medication schedules, enlarged ovaries, IVF’s, inseminations and negative pregnancy tests.
My blood test was scheduled for the next morning although we both already knew that our IVF had failed so it was odd that the mood struck me that night. My first inclination was to let the feeling pass but I couldn’t justify squandering such an opportunity. My wife was quick to agree and followed me into the bedroom.
We undressed silently in the dark room. There was no ceremony to it, just a sense of urgency, a need to act before it was too late. We slid into bed, her hands on my hips, mine in her hair, kissing tentatively, almost cautiously. Marie whispered, “Do you want to be on top?” I didn’t. I asked her if we could “do it side-by-side,” our term for mutual masturbation. She agreed and moved her body close to me.
We lay there in the dark, moaning softly. Our bodies pressed up together so that we could feel each other grinding and thrusting. My wife began to breathe faster and her moans grew higher and louder as she reached orgasm. I always love listening to my wife come. I rocked my own hand a little faster, starting to reach a crescendo as well. We came together my loud and low moaning mixed with her high soft cries of release.
From the satisfied throbbing between my legs, a hunger spread. I had to come again. Arching my back, grinding my hips into the bed, I panted and shuddered. How long had it been since I touched myself? I couldn’t remember.
Climaxing again, I felt my wife’s thrusts as she came too. It wasn’t enough. The bed squeaked along the hardwood floor, as I fucked myself wildly, almost angrily. I used to do this all the time. I used to be young and alive. I used to fuck my wife passionately. We used to make love every night, howling like two wolves.
I came again, tears streaming down my face but I couldn’t stop. I fucked myself as hard as I could, gasping, growling, at the indignity of getting old before my time. I used to be toned and sexy. I had energy and drive. We used to role-play, we used to have fun, she used to dress me up and I’d be her slave or her whore. I used to be confident enough to be submissive. Now I was fucking myself like a rapist trying to prove his manhood. I came again and again and again, a snarling riptide of orgasms as I dominated my barren, useless, flabby body.
I felt my wife roll toward me and rub my ass...a sign that she was finished. I wasn’t. Savagely, I jerked my hand between my legs. Tears mixed with sweat on my face and the sheets beneath my thighs were slick from my efforts. I came one last time, roaring for the woman I was a year ago and sobbing for the husk I have become.
Limply, I laid my head down and tried to control my trembling, grateful for the dark room that hid the tears. My wife rubbed my back lightly. “What got into you?” Thankfully, my vocalizations had masked the sobbing.
“Nothing.” I replied. “I just was really horny.”
We lay there for a few minutes. I tried my best to act normally, playfully nipping her fingertips as she reached for my hand but awkwardness was building.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I lied. “I think I lost my estrogen patch in the bed.”