Time to Come

foreplay as life

“I’m feeling horny,” I whisper into his ear.

He smirks but keeps his eyes on his screen.

“Is that right?” he says.

He’s moving graphic images around slide 13. Our kids are beyond him, sitting on a green carpet, their attention on toys.

I stand and make my way to the kitchen. I hear his footsteps behind me. Then, I feel his hands on my hips. I turn to face him in the kitchen doorway.

“You’re horny?”

“Yes. I think it’s from earlier. When you did that crazy look…”

—Two hours earlier —

The house was quiet. I was at the table reading an email when, in my peripheral vision, I saw his feet approaching me. I looked up and met his wild eyes. They were locked onto mine.

I laughed, unsettled. “What is this?”

He leaned in and said nothing, smiling. Then turned and went to the loo.

“You weirdo,” I said. But the attention, the eye contact, touched me.

— Back in the kitchen doorway —

“I knew you’d like that,” he says. “I thought, ‘Oh, I have to go wee, but I know Abby would really like it if I delayed my physical needs for her.’”

“Is it so wrong to want to come before reason, occasionally?”

He smiles at me.

I say, “Or maybe I’m horny from that great kiss?”

— One hour earlier —

We were at the table. I explained child pick-up logistics over soft instrumental music. His screen was between us, but he looked at me.

“It’s not ideal, but,” I said as he leaned his face toward mine.

I kept talking. “We do what we must, right?” As I leaned in, too.

He kissed me mid-sentence. Doughy, rough lips pressed into mine for one, two, three, four, five, and left with a smack.

“So, which will it be?” I laughed.

“The kids. We need to get them. Definitely.” he said.

I shook my head and smiled.

— Back in the kitchen doorway —

“You know why I did that?” he asks. He lowers his voice, “I was thinking about the blowjob from last night.”

“Of course you were,” I say.

“Mom!” Our eldest says.

“One minute, I’m talking to dad!” I say.

“Yea. I thought, ‘I should tell Abby how much I enjoyed that.’ Then I thought, ‘God, I really love Abby.’ And then I kissed you.”

“I knew you weren’t listening,” I smirk.

He chuckles. I stack bowls from the drying rack. I put them in the cupboard.

“So you liked that blow job, huh?”

“I think it’s that pose you were in.”

“That dance didn’t hurt,” I say.

“You danced before the blowjob?”

“No, earlier today. Sorry, I’m still thinking about my horniness.”

He smiles with full teeth. He squeezes me with both his hands on either side of my waist. I feel small, even though, in this doorway, the divots on the floor make him look smaller than he is.

“Are you shrinking?” I tease.

“It’s the floor.”

He pulls me in.

— Eighteen hours later —

The sun is high, the birds are singing, and we’re fucking on our empty bed.

I come in five minutes. He comes in the next five. But it built up for a day.

After, I pee with the door open. He walks past in just a t-shirt. His penis, still half-mast, bounces above the hemline. He tells me he’s sore. He points to the parts of his thighs that ache from what we just did.

“I love you,” I say.

We have four hours until we need to pick up our kids again. There’s work to do before that. But first, he kisses me while I sit on the loo.

“I love you too.”

Soundtrack:

Thank you for loving love with me, reader.

I’d love to hear from you in the comments.

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