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Late last night my soon-to-be ex-husband visited me in a dream. A sex dream.
We were stuck together in some huge old house, apparently because of impassable roads. Our children were there, as well as all six of his new partner’s children. We worked together to get this assemblage bedded down for the night, then wearily headed toward the only remaining available bed.
Without any discussion at all we collapsed into it together, too exhausted from the weather, altered plans and childcare to bother with social niceties. Promptly we both fell asleep.
But before long we were awoken by the whimpers of a restless child. We stared at each other, willing the little one back to sleep. When after a moment the murmurs quieted, my soon-to-be ex-husband pushed me gently onto my stomach and slid off my nightgown.
I raised my hips so the fabric could slip free, and once I was naked I realized that he was too. He crawled between my legs, rubbing his erection over my bottom as I ground my pubis into the bed below him. In an second he’d slipped inside of me. He circled his arm around my hip so as to reach my clit with his fingers. He whispered filthy words in my ear.
None of this was even remotely like anything that had happened between us during marriage. None of it. There had been no nightgown slipping, no naked bottom rubbing, no pubis grinding, no hip circling, no clit rubbing (well, maybe there’d been a little clit rubbing, but it certainly wasn’t like this clit rubbing), no filthy word whispering. “This is so good,” I moaned to him between coming and more coming.
“Just be quiet and enjoy it,” he muttered. This was more like the man I knew.
As often happens when I’m caught in a sex dream, I woke up right before I came. Sweaty, horny and cranky, I rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, wondering what had brought on the dream. A too-late dinner? The unexpected phone call from him to settle some childcare-related confusion right before bedtime? The fact that I’d added my signature to his at the bottom of several pages that very day at my lawyer’s office?
It didn’t much matter what brought on the dream.
But when he called again in the morning to finalize our little childcare-related conundrum, I offered, “Why don’t you just stay here for dinner tonight? That would be easier than trying to haul hungry, tired children clear across town and then fixing them dinner.”
And I was pleased when he agreed.
A
nenasadije
Marcelle Manhattan
distracted
Haaaaaaa
Southern Gentleman
whatthechuck on February 26th, 2008 
aag
badinfluencegirl
Randi
Rich on February 26th, 2008 
Fred on February 26th, 2008 
Bad Bad Girl
verticaldancer
Naughty Endevours
