“Does it bother you?”
“No. I…” I duck my head. “I kind of like it.”
He takes another raspy breath. “Okay. That’s good then.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. I think so.”
We stand across the room from each other, both of us staring down at the floor for a minute.
Finally I manage to say, “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t do what you want to do just because you’re married to me. So you can do that anytime you want.”
“I used to do it while I wash up, but I’ve been having trouble keeping quiet about it.”
“You don’t have to be quiet. I don’t mind if I hear.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure.” I meet his eyes so he knows I’m serious. Then I realize something. “Is that why you’ve been so grumpy lately? Because you couldn’t do that enough?”
“I didn’t mean to be grumpy. But, yeah, that’s probably why.”
I feel better after that conversation. Not just because it feels like we better understand each other but because I have an answer for his recent mood.
Poor guy. If he’s always feeling all hot and achy without the means of relieving the tension, no wonder he’s been grumpy.
I wonder what it will be like to have sex with him.
Maybe we can do that soon.
I’d like to find out.
I go to the village to do errands, and then I scrub down the bathroom in the afternoon. Mason is in a better mood at dinner, and he sits in the living room with me in the evening.
He goes to bed when I do, but about an hour later, I hear him in the bathroom. If I weren’t so attuned to every noise because it’s so different from village sounds, it probably wouldn’t have woken me up.
But I hear it.
And I listen.
He’s doing it again in there. I’m absolutely sure of it.
I can barely hear his muffled grunting, but it’s similar to what I heard earlier today. So I start picturing him like he was this morning, naked and jerking his hand in that shamelessly carnal way. The tension of his body building with each clench.
My own body reacts the way it did before, and it getsstronger and stronger as his grunts get louder and closer together.
“Oh fuck!” I hear, the words strained like he’s trying to hold them back. Then he makes one of those long, satisfied moans like he’s finally gotten what he wants.
But I haven’t gotten what I want. My body feels out of control. I shift and squirm and squeeze my thighs together to try to quell the desperate ache, but nothing works.
Finally I slip a hand down there and rub at the source of the ache through the fabric of my underwear. It helps. It feels so good I make a little moan like Mason did. So I keep rubbing, writhing helplessly because the more I rub myself there, the better I feel.
I can’t stop moaning. This must be how Mason feels too. But they get louder, and it’s embarrassing, so I hide my face in my pillow as I rub and squirm and rub and squirm until suddenly all the rising sensations explode in a rush of pleasure so intense it shocks me.
I’m almost crying into the pillow because my body feels so good.
I never knew it could feel like this.
