Little Johnny coos up at her in response.
She bends over from the waist, the dress lifting in the back to show me the half-moons of her ass cheeks, and picks up my son. I watch from my position of reverence on the floor as she walks around the room, cradling my son in her arms.
“You’re just perfect,” she whispers longingly to him.
I sip my scotch. When my glass is empty, she stands over me and pours me more.
“Good boy.” She pats my head.
* * *
“John,” Meisha calls out from the front entrance. “Can I get some help here?”
I blink as I come out of a stupor. Looking around, I find Johnny asleep on his blanket on the floor. I’m still on my knees. When I try to stand, my lower legs tingle painfully as blood flows back into them, and I end up falling forward onto my hands.
That’s a good look, John, Her voice whispers in my ear.
I push myself up and shuffle forward despite the pins and needles in my lower extremities. So as not to wake Johnny, I wait until I’m in the hallway to respond. “Coming, Meisha.”
The house spins around me. How much did I have to drink? I take a few breaths to steady myself.
Meisha comes out from the kitchen. “I’ve got more out in the – are you all right, John? You’re so pale.” Her eyes widen with concern.
“Yeah.” I scrub my face. “I just fell asleep next to Johnny, I think. And my legs took a hard nap, too. My feet are still numb.” I shake each one in turn to help the blood flow.
She laughs. “I hate it when that happens.”
I follow her out to the car and help her bring the last few bags in. She’d made good on her pizza idea. My stomach growls. Lunch wasn’t enough to make up for thirty-six hours of not eating while binge drinking.
We spend the afternoon outside on the expansive lawn, playing on the grass in the sun as a family. I feel more myself outside and didn’t even bring a drink with me.
Shortly after dinner, we put Johnny down for the evening in a pack-n-play in the bedroom with us behind a little room partition.
“Now, what can I do to help my husband relax?” As I sit on the bed, Meisha comes up behind me and begins rubbing my shoulders. “Your muscles are as hard as rocks.”
I close my eyes and relish the feeling of my wife’s hands on my body, lovingly kneading the tension away.
“Thanks. That felt good,” I say when she stops.
“Oh, I’m not done. It’s going to take a lot more than that to loosen you up.” She stands in front of me and pushes me back on the bed before straddling my lap. “I know–.” She leans forward and kisses my kneck. “How to–.” Her mouth moves down my chest following her fingers as they unbutton my shirt. “Get you–.” She unbuckles my belt. “To relax.”
As she pulls my pants and boxer briefs from my hips and off my legs to land on the floor, I’m surprised that I feel nothing. No surge of blood flow to my genitals. No anticipation of what she will do next. Nothing. From the waist down, I am…numb.
Meisha lays between my legs and kisses her way up one thigh and then the other. Her mouth brushes against each testicle when she gets to the top. Normally, this would cause me to twitch in pleasure. I felt more aroused by her kissing my neck moments before than I do now.
She puts her mouth around my flaccid member and begins sucking.
Nothing.
My wife is engaging in my favorite sex act, and I feel absolutely nothing.
I’m too warm now. Flustered. Embarrassed. What is going on? Why did I agree to stay even another night in this house?
For the first time, I gently push my wife away from pleasuring me.
She looks up at me with concerned eyes and pursed lips. “What’s wrong, John?”
I sit up and cover my crotch with a pillow. She notices and can’t hide the hurt it causes her.
“I think I’m just tired, you know? Maybe a little too much to drink.” I chuckle as the name for that comes to my mind. “Whiskey dick, right?”
When she sits on the bed next to me, I pull my underpants back on and place a gentle, reassuring hand on her thigh. “I’ll make it up to you in the morning.”
She takes my hand. “You don’t have to make anything up to me. I was trying to take care of you.”
You are mine now, John. You will never again climax without me. Mother’s words come unbidden to mind.
I shake my head. She isn’t real, you idiot. You’re having some psychotic episode or something. Are psychotic episodes this sexy, though?
“Let’s just get some sleep. I’ll feel better in the morning.”
Meisha and I snuggle together under the covers, her head on my shoulder. Within a few minutes, she’s softly snoring, and I’m wide awake.
With an erection.
Oh, now you want to get hard? I scold my traitorous body and sigh internally, scowling at the ceiling. The scotch in the study is calling me. If I can’t sleep, I might as well drink until I’m ready to pass out.
With as much stealth as I can muster, I roll my wife over and slip from the bed. Meisha has mommy ears, though.
