IVF is a sexless affair. Obviously. Injections, surgery, recovery, more surgery, two-week wait. During that time you either don’t want, or aren’t allowed, to orgasm. So, it’s quite literally a sexless affair. Now imagine going cold turkey like this after so many years of regular err coupling. It’s torture! Which means that the first sex back after the hiatus…? Heavenly!
And my husband knows just how to treat me.
Like the gentleman he is, he waits until I tell him I’m ready. That night, we go upstairs early. He goes up first, and let’s me know when I can come up. I get undressed, leaving my clothes in the bathroom wash basket. Then open the bedroom door. His smile meets mine and I slip inside. He looks at me like I’m the most gorgeous woman in the world. I’m not, I’m decidedly average. Average height, average build. Brunette like most of the country. Really nothing special.
I suppose the same is true of him, but that’s not how I feel. To me, he's perfect. He's a fireman, but not too muscular; he has enough paunch to be snuggly. His hair is cut slightly shorter than I would like, but it’s practical and I love him for that. His eyes show a generous soul. And, even after this many years, his soft skin is like electricity, making me tingle all over.
I walk towards the bed and sit on his lap. I don’t know what he has planned as he hides what he can under his pillow to keep the surprise. Before I can do anything, he pulls a satin blindfold over my eyes and starts massaging my back. Technically I could lift my hands and remove the blindfold, they’re still free, but why would I?
After he’s eased out the tension of the last few weeks, he stretches one arm out to get the next item. Drawing my wrists behind me, he winds the rope round and round, every which way. He moves tantalisingly slowly, knowing there’s no rush. And there’s something delicious about the first limbs being tied. Knowing he’s in control. Knowing I don’t need to worry about a thing. I wiggle my fingers playfully, but he’s done a good job. As always.
He flips me onto the bed so I’m lying on my back, face towards him. He makes sure not to touch me so that when his lips brush against mine I’ve had no warning. I kiss back, gratefully.
Next he pulls my leg softly towards the bottom corner, using the satin band attached to the under-the-bed restraint set. I already know he’ll do the same for the other leg so I stretch it out ready. I’m eager. He’s still taking his time, drawing out the excitement and building up to that special moment. But we’re not there yet.
Legs spread eagle and my arms pinned beneath me, he lies on top. He comes in for one last kiss before placing the silk in my mouth, tying another piece behind my head to keep it in place. Oh how gentle he always is.
He sits over me, stopping me from sitting up, and I hear him open a container. I hope this is the oil and that he’s going to run his hands lightly all over my body with it. I’m not disappointed. I feel like his princess. Every touch makes my body tingle; it nigh on shakes with excitement. I moan in pleasure through the gag.
Keeping enough pressure on me to know he’s in control and I can’t wiggle, but not so much he causes discomfort to my bruised body he slips inside, making sure I get the first orgasm.
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