Spicing Things Up

So last week I was sick. Both of us were, actually. Mr. J2 caught the same bug I did, although not from me. (I lay the blame on his son who we jokingly call patient zero.)

No, we didn’t play hooky from work – we both were legitimately sick. I’m still battling it now, but he’s much better.

We spent two full days together, just lounging. We had a lot of sex – although we decided to forgo kissing until we were healthier, and both of us were having a difficult time with that part of it. We both love kissing so much that to have it removed from our lives felt a little unnatural.

And a little dirty if I am being honest. But in a good way.

We still talked. Cuddled. Held hands.

And had some mind-blowing sex.

We talk so much about everything. We talk about moving in together, about money, about how we feel, about past experiences, about how good the other person makes us feel.

Is this normal? It’s new for me, to actually be with someone who listens to me and who talks to me.

I overheard him talking to his brother one night while we were sick. I was upstairs in bed trying to read, and he was downstairs on the phone. I wasn’t trying to listen; the house was completely silent, and, well… sound travels.

He told his brother about our plans to move in together. Not the actual plans, as we don’t really have any yet, but that we had talked about it and would likely do it in the fall. I heard him say, ‘it might seem forward after only a few months but it feels so right. It’s so different when I can talk to someone about how I am feeling and I know they will listen and not judge me. I can just be and not worried about the reaction I will get when I open my mouth to speak”.

Then I heard him say something to his brother that I said to him earlier that night. I had told him that one of the reasons I think it’s working out so well is actually because he only has the kids half-time. He is able to spend a week being Mr. J2, and not Dad. He misses them, of course, but in that time he can focus a little more on being a man. Focus on his needs and wants and not putting his kids first all the time.

I was really surprised when I heard him tell that to his brother, and that I was the one that had said it. He listens. He absorbs.

And I do the same with what he says. And one of the things he had said was how in his marriage he spent a lot of time begging for bad sex – and his wife was selfish in that way, as most women can be, which I just don’t understand. I guess they were just a bad fit sexually. No, he doesn’t have the largest dick I’ve ever seen, but with some experimenting, we’ve learned how to make it work really well for us. He makes me squirt, which no other man has done with his dick before, only manually. So obviously he is doing something right.

Like I said, we’re just a good fit.

But pleasing each other makes us happy. And I really enjoy making him happy. So when we were talking about stuff and I happened to mention that I have a trench coat and high boots, he immediately jumped in with the image of me not having anything on underneath.

But I went one step better. He was at my place last Wednesday afternoon and I excused myself to use the washroom. Instead, I put on a set of garters and bra (which he told me he loves), the boots and the trench. Then I went out to get him and asked if this was the look he had in mind.

The expression of surprise and joy on his face was worth a million dollars to me. Not only is he always so appreciative of my body, but just the fact that I went that extra step to please him meant so much more to him.

That’s what I don’t want to forget. To take things to the next level with him. To not get lost in the same routine that couples get into. Brush teeth. Get in bed. Light low (he likes lights to see me). Hug. Kiss. Touch. Naked. Fingers. Teeth. Penetration.

There’s nothing wrong with that. Definitely not. But with him… he makes me want to take things up just a bit. To keep the spice around.

So that Wednesday, after he snapped some photos of me in the trench coat and boots, I led him to the bedroom and did some naughty things to him.

For most of it, I kept on the trench and boots. For the rest, the garter belt and bra remained.

I didn’t orgasm. That wasn’t the point. The point was for him to lie back and enjoy everything. Curtains open and sun streaming in. A beautiful blonde (his words) there to service him in every way possible. For him to just let his mind go and his body do as it pleased.

And I loved it. I felt powerful. I have often wondered why so many women withhold sex in their marriages to  ‘punish’ their husbands. Do they not know they are denying themselves as well?

He’s still talking about that afternoon. And the next night as well, as I had to see if I could do the same thing to him two nights in a row with the same results.

Turns out I am very, very good at it. I have a talent for it.

I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose this joy I feel when I am with him, pleasing him. Because I know it’s the same for him.

I’m already thinking about this weekend and how I can spice it up. We had talked about the dining room table being a good height for me to lean on – if you get my meaning.

So I am thinking a tight pencil skirt… thigh high stockings, a tight blouse, plunging bra…

He makes me want to do this. The way he looks at me… the way he touches me… for the first time ever, a man actually makes me feel beautiful, inside and out.



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