I woke to the sound of water running. A shower. Mid-morning sunlight shone through the window and onto the empty spot in my bed. Bonnie had woken before me; odd for a Saturday, but not entirely unexpected. She crashed almost as soon as we got home, while I lay awake thinking about her immediate slumber. That, and a slew of other indicators that made me wonder how solid my marriage was.

It’s not that I suspected Bonnie of cheating; she’s always been loyal and loving. But the previous night’s activities–or, to be more accurate, the lack thereof–had forced me to think about the lack of intimacy that we’d had since our youngest left for college. I don’t mean only sexual intimacy, although that was the catalyst for my late-night musings. All forms of it seemed increasingly absent.

We were loving, but not close. That’s what it boiled down to. If we watched TV together, one of us would be on the couch and the other on the loveseat, usually with her glued to her phone while I watched my chosen show or vice versa. 

Bonnie and I dined together, but our talk always returned to either our jobs or the kids, never our marriage or even shared interests. Did we even have any of those anymore? I struggled to think of some; the list was short enough to fill an index card.

We still had sex, and it was… fine. Occasionally good. Rarely excellent. Never amazing. Bonnie had stopped initiating, and most weeks, we only had sex on our scheduled night. It used to be that Thursday night sex was our way to make sure that we absolutely, positively made love at least once a week, a concession to the juggling that was necessary with our careers and our kids. 

Now, it rarely felt like making love at all. Sex became another of our weekly chores, at least for Bonnie. Another check on the weekly task list. Trash taken out? Check. Carpet vacuumed? Check. Husband orgasmed? Check.

The decline took place over several years. At first, I tried to believe the kids’ activities or the stress from our jobs had crowded out our lovemaking, but when we went into our empty nest phase, nothing changed. Not for long, at least. I initiated more often for a couple of months, and she reacted with at least a little more enthusiasm. But even these sessions lacked any real passion on her end. 

She did it for me, not with me. I did my best to make it enjoyable, and I knew her body well enough to ensure that she got off at least once each time. None of that translated into any additional intimacy.

To be clear, I didn’t just throw Bonnie down on the bed and ravish her. In all ways, I did my best to romance my wife, to bring the passion back into our marriage through methods beyond just the bedroom. I arranged candlelit dinners, a vacation, dates to the theater and ballet, and… nothing. Bonnie appreciated these attempts. The sex on those nights was better, and her mood lifted for the rest of the week, but none of it brought about any kind of sustained improvement. I kept trying, though. I loved Bonnie, and I knew she loved me.

The previous night, though, had told me that things were fucked. The whole day had.

Bonnie forgot my birthday. Forty-nine isn’t one of the big ones, but it’s still another trip around the sun. In the past, she had tried to be extra nice to me on my birthdays, even as our intimacy had waned in the previous few years. A wake-up blowjob was a common way to start the celebration; it wasn’t necessary, but I sure as hell liked it. Failing that, a wake-up kiss would have been welcome. That didn’t happen either.

She was still getting ready for work that morning, humming happily as she poured her coffee into a travel thermos. “Good morning, handsome!” Affectionate. Loving. I tried to kiss her, and she turned her head. “Sorry, hon, just did my lipstick.” But not passionate. 

My wife flitted around the kitchen, grabbing her laptop bag from the table and lunch from the fridge. I silently watched her. Had she actually forgotten? When was the last time that had happened? 

Never. Bonnie never forgot birthdays or anniversaries. Was she planning a surprise? Or… no. She was preoccupied with something else. “Oh, and, Jeff, don’t forget, we’ve got the awards dinner tonight!” Of course. She was receiving an award for her team’s sales output.

“Got it. Coming home to change?”

“Yup!” My wife squeezed my arm as she turned to leave. “I’ll… Is something wrong?”

I shook my head. It was important to her. 

I didn’t throw a tantrum. If she forgot, she forgot. We could talk about it later. Forcing a smile on my face, I said, “Just thinking about some things.”

Bonnie wasn’t convinced; that much was clear. But she was also in a hurry. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll see you tonight.” A worried but hopeful smile. “I hope whatever it is, you figure it out.” No, there was no surprise. She had forgotten entirely. It didn’t matter enough to remember.

With a little nod and an unconvincing grin, I said, “I’m sure I will. Have a good day, hon.”

I’m a grown man. I don’t need a party or cake or gifts. Hell, I don’t even need a card. But for my wife to have completely forgotten my birthday? Even if she had the excuse of an important event on the same day? That hurt. 

The kids, Danny and Julie, called later in the day to wish me a happy birthday. That made me feel better while I was on the phone with them but worse afterwards. A pair of college kids had remembered to call, but my wife of almost twenty-five years couldn’t even remember the date.

I tried to throw myself into my work, stopping only long enough to have a sandwich for lunch and to use the restroom, but it didn’t work. Between lingering irritation with Bonnie and distractions from co-workers, sitting at my computer was a waste of time. I ultimately decided to take a half day and relax with a swim; we had a pool for a reason, even if it had gotten little use recently.

The swim turned out to be less relaxing and more tiring than I’d hoped. Was that why things had fallen apart between us? Because I was out of shape? But I wasn’t, not really. Yeah, some gray flecks had started to appear in my hair, and I probably could do with losing a few pounds–no, I definitely could–but I wasn’t ugly or unfit. I just had a dad bod.

As I prepared for Bonnie’s dinner, I had a fleeting thought that perhaps she really had been unfaithful but quickly discarded the notion. She showed absolutely no signs of infidelity: no particularly long hours; no changes in our sex life, other than a slow, steady decline over years; no deviations in the way she dressed or her routine; no new hobbies; no rapid shifts in attitude or mood. My wife was as much a homebody as me, so no girls’ nights out, either.

No, Bonnie wasn’t cheating. That realization was both heartening and a touch disheartening. She was still my loyal wife. But absent an outside influence, that meant that something had gone horribly wrong with us, and I had no idea how to fix it.

Bonnie’s arrival home derailed my train of thought. As soon as the door closed, I heard, “Oh God, Jeff, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot it was your birthday today!” She hugged me close and gave me a wonderful, passionate kiss. It felt like going home, like the way she’d kissed me when we were kids in our first apartment. 

She pulled away sooner than I would have liked, but then, any amount of time would have been sooner than I would have liked. “I feel like such a bitch. I’ve been so caught up in everything that I… God, I can’t apologize enough.”

I chuckled, “Well, I can think of a couple ways.”

Bonnie laughed and said, “Oh, I’m sure you can.” Another kiss; this one was less intense but still plainly heartfelt. “Tonight, after the dinner. Hell, the whole weekend, babe. Anything you want.”

With a raised eyebrow, I said, “Anything?”

She froze for a second, realizing what she’d said. A lot of things had been off the table for quite some time. Then, rallying, my wife proclaimed, “Anything. But first, we have to get ready! We’re going to be late!”

Bonnie hastily changed into a lovely green dress that matched her eyes. The red curls that she found so aggravating at times were tamed through arcane womanly techniques into a stylish updo. I tried to start our celebrations a little early; nothing too aggressive, just a little kiss on the back of the neck as I zipped her up. My affection was met with an eye-roll and a “Hurry!”

“I can’t help it. You’re so beautiful.”

Another eye-roll. “You’re my husband. You have to say that. Now go!”

The dinner was okay. Just a typical corporate do. Bonnie’s acceptance speech was well-received. It ought to have been since we’d skipped Thursday night sex so she could practice it.

It wasn’t a particularly exciting night for me, but she was happy, so I was happy. Unfortunately, she got a little too happy; my wife forgot sometimes that she could no longer hold her liquor the way she could in college, and this was one of those occasions.

By the time we were in the car, I knew nothing was going to happen that night. I tried not to show irritation and failed miserably. Fortunately, Bonnie was too far gone to realize it. Unfortunately, she was too far gone to realize that she was going to pass out before she could make good on her promises. Her green eyes sparkled as she slurred, “Gonna treat you ssso good when we get home, birthday boy. Gonna… Gonna… zzzz”

Bonnie was semi-coherent as I got her out of the car and helped her to the door, but coherent enough to grope me and mutter vulgar promises she couldn’t keep. Thankfully, she was also coherent enough to run to the bathroom before vomiting. I held my wife’s hair, as I had many times before, then helped her rinse out her mouth before putting her to bed in panties and nothing else. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn so little to bed.

I barely slept, turning the situation over and over in my head. It wasn’t the fact that she’d forgotten my birthday in the morning, or that she got so soused she couldn’t keep her promise. It wasn’t that we’d skipped Thursday night sex so she could make her speech. All of those were in my mind, but more as indicators than issues; any of them by themselves would just be something to shrug my shoulders about. But together? And with the trajectory of our love life, both in the physical and emotional sense? 

No. I realized I’d shrugged my shoulders for too long. As I lay there, staring up at the ceiling as the most beautiful woman in the world snored, I knew that if things were going to get better, I was going to have to do something. We would have to, together. But I’d need to take the first steps.

All of this occupied my mind as Bonnie showered the next morning. I still had no idea what to do, but I knew I would have to take action soon. I needed to use her guilt over the way she’d acted over the previous few days; it appalled me to think of manipulating her, but I chose to view it instead as an intervention. I just didn’t know whether I’d be opening her eyes or forcing her to acknowledge something she already knew. I hoped for the former but suspected the latter.

The time to decide on a course of action was short. I heard the shower shut off; Bonnie would brush her teeth next, then come out and dress for the day. Nothing came to mind, or, rather, too many things did, and I soon realized I’d need to see what she did and said upon her return to the bedroom.

The door opened, and a little residual steam puffed out. Bonnie was so beautiful to me, and I rarely got to see that beauty in full daylight. Our schedules were slightly off from each other; I typically left for work when she was in the shower, or did household chores on the weekends. When was the last time I’d seen this vision of loveliness in the morning? I couldn’t recall. That made me feel even worse; yes, she’d been less than receptive, but I’d perhaps been less than appreciative.

She noticed I was awake; I noticed she was hungover. Bonnie rubbed her head gingerly, saying, “Hey, handsome. I’m- ah, I’m sorry about last night.” The chagrined, slightly hopeful smile she sported was intended to soften the impact: she was really, really sorry, so please don’t make a big deal of this.

“Which part?”

The smile drooped a fraction. “All of it. Drinking too much, throwing up, passing out.”

“Anything else?”

Bonnie sighed, shoulders slumped. “Yeah. Yeah, that too.” She tried to rally. “You know, I would have been fine—happy, even– if you had…” A test balloon floated up in the form of a naughty grin. “... ah, taken advantage of me.”

I looked away. “I wouldn’t have.”

Her brows furrowed. “What?”

“I wouldn’t have. I wanted…” My gaze drifted back. “Fuck, Bonnie, when did you stop wanting to have sex with me? When you were drunk last night, that was the most amorous I’ve seen you since… Hell, I can’t even remember. Do you need to be three sheets to the wind to want me?”

“Hey! That’s not true!” Shock more than outrage, but at least some of both.

“It feels that way. You don’t initiate. We have sex one time a week, if we’re lucky, and I have to ‘remind’ you about it. Hell…” I sighed. “It’s not even just the sex, Bonnie. When’s the last time you… I dunno, even just tried to cuddle with me on the couch instead of looking at your phone? Am I that boring to you now?”

“No!” She sat next to me and rubbed my back. “No, Jeff, no. I love you. And I do still enjoy when we make love. I do.”

“Just not enough to actually want to do it more than once a week. Or to–”

Her tone shifted slightly towards offended. “Is this about your birthday? I told you, I’m sorry that I forgot. I just–”

“No!” My voice was louder than I’d intended, and she flinched. “No. That’s just… it was what made me see, part of what made me see that things were wrong. Have been wrong for a while.”

Bonnie was quiet, and the look on her face told me everything I needed to know: I wasn’t opening her eyes. I was just making her face a truth she already knew. “I love you.” A soft tone, almost a whisper.

“I love you too, Bonnie. This wouldn’t hurt so much if I didn’t.”

My wife sniffled. “I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know why. I do love you, Jeff. I do. I promise. And I don’t- when we have sex, it’s enjoyable for me. I’m glad we have our Thursday nights, even if… Even if I might not seem like it sometimes. I just…” Her voice petered out. “I don’t know.” She sighed sadly, and we sat there together for a while, just holding each other. It was clear we both wanted things to be different. It was equally clear we also had no idea how to get there.

“Can we go to counseling?” She quickly nodded, but I continued, “I don’t want to- to live like roommates who occasionally have sex. I want to have my wife back, like–” A lightning bolt struck. “You said ‘anything,’ right?”

“What?”

“This weekend. ‘Anything I wanted.’”

Bonnie pulled away and looked at me, slightly suspicious. That annoyed me; did my wife suspect I was going to bend her guilt towards some kind of sexual favor she wouldn’t normally grant? Did she really think so little of me? 

“Yes?” A statement phrased as a question. No, as a tacit rejection, intended to shut down any request too outre.

My jaw tightened at the irritation, but I let it go; anger wouldn’t help, only hurt. “Do you remember when we were in college? And then when we were first married?”

“What about it?”

I chuckled. “Before the kids came along, we barely wore a stitch of clothing around the house.”

A slight roll of those lovely green eyes, but a friendly one. “Yeah, because you wanted to have sex all the time.”

“Me?”

“... We.”

“That’s what I want this weekend.” I held up a hand as she opened her mouth. “Not the sex all weekend. Okay, well, yes, that would be nice, too, but I know my limitations. Mostly, though, I just want…” I kissed her softly. “I miss that. That… openness that we had. That’s what I want this weekend.”

“I don’t know…” She did know. She knew she didn’t want to.

“That’s all I want. No gifts. No cake or party. Hell, not even any sex, necessarily.”

Bonnie frowned. “I told you, I don’t mind–” A quick change of both expression and tack. “–I enjoy sex with you.”

“Then maybe that will happen, too. But…” I looked at the ceiling and sighed. “I miss you, Bonnie. I miss seeing your body and the way your skin feels against mine, not even in a sexual way, just…” 

I smiled and stroked her cheek, looking into her eyes again. “Do you remember how it was back then? How we’d sit on the couch, and I’d lay my head in your lap, and we’d just watch TV? And sometimes… Well, I admit sometimes something more would happen. 

“But sometimes it was just that, my face pressed against your naked thigh while you stroked my hair. Just the two of us enjoying the closeness. If that’s all that happens this weekend…” I swallowed, trying to fight emotions I hadn’t understood were hiding so close to the surface. “That’s more than we’ve had in a long time. That’s what I want for my birthday.” It’s what I wanted for our life.

The emotions were close to the surface for her, too, maybe closer than for me. She’d known something was wrong longer than I had. A lot longer, I think. A tear rolled down one cheek, and I gently brushed it away. 

Bonnie’s voice was hoarse. “Okay.” She smiled, swallowing the sadness. “Let’s do it.” A little laugh, driving her melancholy further from the here and now. “A naked weekend! Yeah, let’s do it.” She leaned in and kissed me; I felt the desire in me rise, and my body responded. Bonnie looked down and laughed, “Sure you don’t just want sex?”

“I do, but only if you do, too.”

Her smile dipped. The moment passed as a lie slipped too easily from her lips. “I’m still a little hungover. Why don’t you go grab a shower, and I’ll make some breakfast?” She’d acceded to my wishes more than I expected, and I let the dishonesty go uncommented upon. After all, did it really count as a lie if we both knew it was?

I showered slowly, taking the time to think under the cool water. Not cold; I wasn’t that frustrated. Just cool enough to tamp things down a bit. She had agreed to my request, which was great. And there was clearly something there, some desire of her own that she was… what? Afraid of? Unhappy with? Angry at? I couldn’t tell. But it was a start. And, even if the weekend didn’t result in more than seeing Bonnie in all her glory for two days, she’d also agreed to counseling. I toweled off feeling cautiously optimistic, if still a little trepidatious about what she was hiding.

Bonnie stood at the stove when I came in, hair pulled back in a ponytail and humming softly as she cooked. She had on an apron, and somehow that was even sexier than simple nakedness. The loose ends of the bow dangled down as if intentionally directing my attention to her curvy ass. We’d both put some weight on since those college days, but she wore it well. Very, very well.

She must have heard me approaching, because she half-turned with a smile. “Hey, handsome, breakfast is almost- oh!” Bonnie’s eyes strayed down to my half-hard dick, then went wide. Suddenly flustered, she stuttered, “Uh, in a, in a few minutes.” The blush on her face was certainly appealing, but her manner wasn’t. 

The distance there hurt me, as if either her being naked or my body responding to her beauty was an awful burden. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should have been satisfied with lackluster sex and a promise to go to counseling instead of this attempt to reclaim our past intimacy through shared nostalgia. I was about to speak when she found her equilibrium once more, smiled broadly, and said, “Why don’t you put some coffee on?” I could not have been more grateful for the out.

I made us each a mug and placed them at our usual seats, then sat and sipped on mine. She asked without looking back, “So, did you have anything else you wanted to do today? Anything outside the house?”

No, I didn’t. I hadn’t expected her to forget my birthday, nor had I expected the chance to have Bonnie naked for the whole weekend. I took another sip to buy time, then said, “Nothing specific. Maybe go swimming later? I thought we could curl up on the couch and watch something together. There’s that new romcom streaming I know you wanted to see.”

The offer made my wife glance back, a disbelieving expression on her face. “It’s your birthday weekend. Don’t you want to pick?”

“I just want to spend time with you. No phones, no computers, no distractions except shared ones.”

“Okay. But you could still pick the movie.”

“And I am.” I put down the mug. “I know this is making you a little uncomfortable. Maybe more than a little.” A guilty look flashed across her face. “I want to… I love you, Bonnie. More than anything in the world except maybe the kids. If we spend the whole day watching stuff you want, but I get to spend it cuddled up to you, skin to skin? That’s a good day. And…” I sighed. “And maybe I haven’t shown you that lately. I’m sorry if the reason we’ve gotten distant is on me, and I just didn’t realize it.”

“No, it’s not… I don’t know. Maybe.” Bonnie sighed and looked back at the stove. “Can we… I need to think about it, okay? You’re right. We’re not as close as we were, and I don’t like it either. Can we just have breakfast and cuddle, like you said? I promise I’m not trying to avoid it. I just need to think.”

We sat and ate mostly in silence. She kept her apron on; I didn’t object. When we were done, I helped clear the table and do the dishes. Bonnie seemed lost in thought, but routine easily carried us through. As we finished and headed to the living room, I finally said something about her state of dress. “You still have your apron on.”

“Oh!” My wife laughed. “I forgot.” Bonnie showed no hesitation as she pulled the string to open it and pulled it over her head. God, she was gorgeous. I loved her with every part of my being. Bonnie laughed again at how much one particular part seemed to love her. “You going to be okay there, babe?”

“I’ll manage.” I waggled my eyebrows. “Unless you’d like to help?”

Her brilliant smile turned unsteady. Unsure. “I, ah, of course.” Bonnie rallied. “Nothing’s too good for the birthday boy.” There was still something behind her eyes, though. The enthusiasm was, if not forced, then at least reluctant. That wasn’t what I wanted, at all.

“Bon… if you don’t want to, I don’t want you to feel like…” I sighed. 

“I do! I really do, Jeff. It’s just… this isn’t what we normally do. But I love you, and I want you to feel good.” She sank to her knees in front of me. “I want to make you feel good.” Her hand grasped my shaft, stroking it slowly. “Let me? Please?” 

It was real, if not entirely wholehearted. I believed everything she was saying; I also believed she wasn’t saying everything. But the most beautiful woman in the world was on her knees, staring up into my eyes as she licked the tip of my cock. How the hell was I supposed to say no to that? 

I wasn’t. 

When my hand caressed her cheek, she grinned, then took my glans into her mouth and sucked on it like a lollipop. My wife gave the best blowjobs I’d ever had, even when we first started dating. She sometimes joked that was how she hooked me; she wasn’t entirely wrong. But now, almost thirty years later? 

“Oh! Oh god, Bonnie!” I have no doubt that, if she wanted, my wife could have gotten me off within seconds. Instead, I was treated to a marvelously drawn-out edging session. 

Her hands caressed my balls and stroked my shaft, maximizing pleasure while never quite getting all the way to release. Bonnie’s mouth was indescribably good, kissing and sucking and licking up and down my cock. She knew what I liked, and while she didn’t give it all to me—no deep-throating, which she could do but didn’t enjoy—I certainly had no complaints.

“Sweetheart, I’m close—“ I warned her; she gave me what I liked, so I tried to do the same. Like deepthroating, she would swallow for me sometimes, but she didn’t especially enjoy it. That was okay, though. There was something we both liked.

Bonnie drew back, looking up at me with bright eyes. One hand slid up and down the shaft, slick with saliva, while the other caressed and gently squeezed my balls. “Cum for me, baby. I want it. C’mon, handsome, cum all over me. Give it to me, love; I need it.” 

She laughed happily as I tensed, as the first rope of jism arced from my cock and onto her chest. “Yesss, baby! I love your cum.” Another spurt landed on her cheek as she moved closer. A third painted her throat, and a fourth, smaller one joined it. 

Only then did she lean forward to take me back in her mouth as the fifth and final spray made its way out. It wasn’t my taste she minded, only the volume. Bonnie sucked greedily as I moaned, too overcome with sensation to do more than lean against the wall. A loud pop was followed by my sexy wife’s voice. “Mmmm. So good, baby.” I looked down at her, and any hesitancy I might have seen before was gone, replaced by pure devotion. “I love you, Jeff.”

Bonnie made a little happy noise as I cupped her cheek, pressing her face into my palm. Panting, I said, “Ah- hah- love you, Bonnie.” I pulled her to her feet. I would have kissed her—if she’d swallow for me, why wouldn’t I kiss her afterwards?—but she just smiled and said, “I’m going to go clean up. Put the movie on for us?”

I nodded, still trying to catch my breath. Bonnie moved towards the hallway, making me smile. I loved to watch her as she walked. “God, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful.” 

She flashed a little smile over her shoulder. “You’re just saying that because I’m covered with your cum. Now shoo!” There was a little extra bounce in her step; I enjoyed every second of it until she was out of view.

We settled in to watch some romantic comedy; I don’t remember the name. It was an inoffensive little confection and reasonably funny. But mostly, I just enjoyed laying with my head in Bonnie’s lap, savoring the warmth of her skin and her laughter. She stroked my hair as we watched, occasionally dipping her head down to kiss me gently. Those moments, even more than the amazing blowjob, felt precious to me. To both of us, from what her smile said.

By the time the movie was over, I was well past recovered, but I didn’t feel the need to indulge. There was time. We had all weekend, and I didn’t want to make Bonnie think that the nakedness and closeness that I desired was purely about sex. I mean, it was about sex; I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t the impetus. But the longer we cuddled, I found how much that simple pleasure filled a void I’d scarcely registered.

We were partway through another movie, one of my choosing, when I heard her stomach rumble and realized we were well past lunchtime. Bonnie had cooked breakfast, so I took care of lunch. It wasn’t anything too extravagant–just a couple of BLTs–but still tasty. She laughed at my naked ass hanging out of the apron, so I wiggled it at her, which made her laugh even harder. The loving expression on my wife’s face as we cleaned up made me feel as content as I had since, hell, since the kids had moved out. Maybe before. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you, too, Jeff.” My wife stretched, unintentionally putting her full body on display for me, and I felt myself stir again. She saw it, too; that brought back the self-conscious Bonnie from before, and it broke my heart a little bit. 

Still, this was a process; we had to make our way back to each other. This weekend would be a part of that, but I couldn’t expect that whatever had broken between us would be fixed in a few hours of naked cuddling and a blowjob, no matter how fantastic both had been.

“God, hon, you’re so beautiful.”

Bonnie chuckled. “You have to say that. You’re my husband.”

I frowned. This might be a process, but part of the process was speaking up. “Why do you do that?”

She cocked her head to one side. “What?”

“That. Where you… I say you’re beautiful, and you deflect. You don’t thank me—which is fine, that’s not why I’m saying it—but instead you imply that I’m…” I struggled to find the right phrasing. “Lying is maybe too strong. But that I’m being disingenuous, maybe? That it’s false flattery?”

My wife bit her cheek, weighing what I’d said. “I didn’t realize I was doing that. I’m— I believe that you mean it, at least to an extent. But…” She sighed. “But that doesn’t make it true. And it doesn’t mean it’s not a reflex.”

“A reflex?”

Her gaze focused on the table. “When we were younger, I was beautiful. I know that. And I don’t think I’m ugly now, just… just not beautiful. And I think sometimes you’ve kept saying it because it’s something you’ve always said.” 

It pained me to see the look in Bonnie’s eyes when she raised her head again. “I know you love me. I know you want me to feel good about myself. But I’ve also seen you look at other women.” I started to speak, but she raised her hand. “I’m not jealous. I look at other men, too. Our young next-door neighbors, for example; I know we’ve both stared at them.”

She laughed at my chagrined expression. “I’m not mad, hon. They’re very attractive. She’s stacked, and he’s got that six-pack; they’re both incredibly hot. And they’re both always out doing their yard work half-dressed. We wouldn’t be human if we didn’t stare.

“But they’re… she’s beautiful. She is. And I’m…” Bonnie looked back down. “I’m just me. A middle-aged mom with wrinkles and cellulite.” Her sigh was part accepting and part disappointed. “I can’t compare with that.”

“Bonnie…” She didn’t look up. “Please.” Her head inclined the tiniest bit, but she mostly looked with her eyes. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me.” That got her to look at me, then to open her mouth as if to object. “Don’t. It’s not reflexive. It’s not me trying to make you feel good, although I hope it does that, too. It’s the truth.”

I looked up at the ceiling for a moment to arrange my thoughts, then back at her. “I’m not saying that you’re objectively the most beautiful woman in the world; it’s not like there’s an objective mark of that, anyways. I’m not saying you’re even… you’re not a model. But you are the most beautiful woman in the world to me.”

My elbows rested on the table as I leaned forward. “Let me ask you a question. Do you think I’m handsome?” 

Bonnie hesitated as if she was afraid I was trying to trap her. To be fair, I was. “... Yes. But–”

“I’m not asking if you think I’m the most handsome in the world, or to rate me against anyone else, okay? So you think I’m handsome, even though I’m starting to see gray hairs, and I’ve gotten a little soft around the middle. Yes?” She nodded. “And I think you’re beautiful.”

“It’s not the same. Guys age better than–”

“That’s bullshit! Who says that? Creeps that want to bang teenagers. The fashion and makeup industries that are trying to sell shit. Guys that don’t…” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about you and me, and how beautiful that I find you. Not what someone on the street might say. You think I’m handsome. Do you think our neighbor does? Or a random person on the street?”

“Yeah, probably. You’re a good-looking guy, even if…” She turned a little red, and I laughed.

“Even if I’ve let myself go a bit? It’s okay, hon. It’s the truth. I should get back to the gym. But I’m glad you think so. Let me ask it a different way: do you think I’m as handsome to a random woman on the street as I am to you?”

“No.”

“I think you’re beautiful. I think that, of the two of us, a random stranger would find you more attractive than they’d find me. And I think that doesn’t matter at all for what I’m saying. It’s not about what some arbitrary person thinks, or a beauty magazine, or anyone else. For me, you are the most beautiful woman in the world. You were when we married, and it’s more true every single day. You’re more beautiful to me today than you were when we met.”

“How? I’m…” Bonnie gestured to her body. God, no wonder she didn’t want to be more intimate. Did she think that she was ugly? Or that I thought she was ugly?

I stood, smiling, and took her hand. “Come with me? Please?”

Bonnie started to object. Or possibly only to question; regardless, her body language made it clear she was reluctant to come along, but ultimately she did. I led her to our bedroom, then into the master bathroom. Bonnie stood uncomfortably in front of the mirror, not quite looking at her reflection, and me just behind her. 

“Look at yourself, hon. You’re beautiful. I think you’re amazing. Gorgeous.” 

She did as I asked, but all that led to was a shake of her head. “I get what you’re trying to do, Jeff. Can we just drop it? I’m sorry. I won’t deflect anymore, okay? I’m beautiful.” She said the words but put absolutely no force behind them.

My hand brushed her hair aside to touch a nearly-faded scar on her shoulder. “Do you remember how you got this?”

She laughed, “That mountain bike excursion you talked me into on our honeymoon.”

I kissed it softly. “Do you remember how I took care of you afterwards? I felt so bad about that.”

Another laugh, along with a more contemplative expression. “Yes, you fussed over me so much. It wasn’t even a bad tumble or that big a scrape. But…” She leaned her head back against my chest. “Yes, I remember.”

“You say that you’re wrinkled. And… Okay, yes, you are. Maybe not as much as you seem to think. But I love those wrinkles. When you laughed just now, I saw where so many of them came from, all the laughs and smiles and shared fun we’ve had. And the worry lines, those were shared, too.”

My arms encircled her, holding her close to me. That lovely warmth again, spreading between our bodies. “You say you have cellulite, but so what? Okay, yeah, maybe we should get in better shape; I’ll be happy to do that with you. But it’s another… We’ve been comfortable. We’re able to just enjoy our lives together. Maybe we overindulged occasionally, but that was because we were happy, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She worried at her lip, thinking.

“And more than that…” One arm moved lower, stroking her side. “Some of it, some of how your body has changed is because you carried our children. My children. You gave them to me, sacrificed your body and your health to give me that wonderful gift." A finger traced the thin, silvery stretch marks on her belly, a trail of scars gained in service to our family and our love. 

Then they moved to another scar, the one that marked the cesarean she underwent for our daughter. “Even when it almost killed you. You would have sacrificed your life for Julie; I know that.” Bonnie nodded, eyes misty at the memory or my words or both; I couldn’t know. “You see wrinkles and cellulite and scars, but I see the woman I love and how much she loved me. How could I think of you as anything but beautiful, Bonnie? 

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me. It’s not hyperbole or flattery. It’s what I see every time I look at you.” She nodded, unable to speak.

“And it’s not just… I’m not saying that as a platitude. You are sexy to me, too, Bonnie. So damned sexy. You can feel it, I know.” My wife shifted slightly, not quite grinding against me, but acknowledging the hardness pressing against her. I kissed her neck as one hand made its way up to her breast, cupping it gently. She stifled a moan. “Gorgeous. So gorgeous.”

Another hand made its way down. “Even here. I know you’d keep your bush full, but you keep it trimmed. You do it for me, because you know I like how it looks.”

Bonnie chuckled, “Even though you want me to shave it all off.” But then she gasped, eyes half closed as my fingers made their way lower, teasing at her labia.

I kissed her neck again and whispered in her ear. “Good marriages are all about compromise, right?” She ground herself back against me, harder this time. “Look at yourself, love.”

My wife’s eyes opened again, looking directly at our reflections. “I love the way that flush spreads out down your neck and across your chest.” Two fingers made their way between her lips and inside as my thumb stroked her clit. “I love the way it turns your pale skin pink. How you gasp when I touch you.”

She whimpered slightly as I stroked faster with my fingers, juices drenching them. Her legs spread slightly to give me more access. “I love you. Everything about you. Do you see how beautiful you are to me? How desirable?”

Bonnie started to shake slightly. I knew those little tremors so well, the herald of her oncoming orgasm. Breath came faster; moans grew louder, eyes started to close. “No. Watch yourself.”  She struggled to keep them open, only barely managing. “Watch the most beautiful woman in the world cum for her husband.” My words took Bonnie the rest of the way to her climax. Tears trailed down her face as she gasped and sobbed with joy and love, shaking like a leaf in my arms.

When she regained control, at least enough to stand on her own, I asked. “Do you believe me?” Another nod, then she turned her head away from our reflection, lips seeking mine. It was a soft, sweet kiss, one that stood in marked contrast to the almost violent spasms dying down in her body.

She broke away. “Bed. Need you.”

We stumbled out of the bathroom, lips locked together, trying not to trip each other. The bed seemed so distant, but the journey was pretty damned great. Our kiss in the bathroom had been gentle, but this one decidedly was not; my lover tried to devour me as I manhandled her body, mauling that curvy ass and those magnificent tits.

Bonnie’s legs bumped against the bed, and she fell backwards onto the mattress, laughing, arms open wide. “Please.” Her voice sounded almost bashful as she lovingly smiled up at me, adoration and lust mingling in her gorgeous green eyes.

I didn’t even bother getting onto the bed. Instead, I spread my wife’s legs and placed them on my shoulders. That loving smile turned pure wicked as she realized what she’d done to me, what all her moans and sighs and kisses and groping had brought out in her man. With a single thrust, I filled her, to the sound of a triumphant “Yes!” from her lips.

We needed each other. That was the only way to describe it: need. Past desire or lust or even love, I needed to be inside her, and she needed to feel me there. We made love with an ardor that our bed hadn’t seen in years. We renewed not just our intimacy, but our passion, and it was glorious. 

Bonnie’s nails dug into my biceps as my cock pistoned in and out of her, her emerald eyes alive with a wanton need. She was always vocal, delighting me with moans, whimpers, and sighs. When we were younger, though, she had been verbal as well, groaning filthy urgings that inflamed me; now she was again. 

The Bonnie I fell in love with decades before had returned, and she urged me to reclaim her. To reclaim us. “Mmm, fuck Jeff! I missed this, missed the way– ah! Oh god, baby! Please! I need— fuck, Jeff! So good! I need your dick, your perfect dick! I— I- ah ah oh YES!” The most beautiful woman in the world came again, and I followed her. Each throb of my cock drove more seed into my wife’s womb, and each drove her to further heights of ecstasy.

Drenched in sweat as we came down, panting and gasping, we still found the breath to tell each other over and over again, “I love you.” There were tears, too; happy, mostly, but some shed for the years when we hadn’t been what we should. We had been a shadow of ourselves, and the brilliance of us—the real us, the right us—was overwhelming in its splendor.

Passion turned to cuddling, which gave way to napping. I was disoriented when I woke, uncertain of what time it was. Bonnie was asleep in my arms, her naked skin pressed to mine. How long had it been since we had last woken up like this? Too long. I didn’t want to stir and break the spell, so I lay there and watched her sleep.

Eventually, though, she stirred with a sleepy grin. “Mmm, morning, handsome.” We kissed again; even this felt like a renewal.

“I don’t think it is, actually. That’s sunset, not sunrise.”

“Hmm.” Bonnie nuzzled close. “Want to get up or stay here?”

“Both.”

“Both? Think you’ve gotta pick one.”

“Stay here for a few minutes, then get some dinner?”

“Such a rebel.”

We decided on a reasonably nice restaurant, and Bonnie put on her little black dress and high heels. She and I each took a quick turn in the shower; my lover pushed me gently out of the bathroom when I tried to join her, asserting—probably correctly—that if I did, we wouldn’t leave the house.

At dinner, we talked about our usual topics, but there was a new spark. Or perhaps not new, perhaps merely rekindled. Even though we were just talking about our kids or our jobs, we found a playfulness that hadn’t been there before. When a lull in the conversation came, it wasn’t uncomfortable or empty; it was just a chance to enjoy the silence together.

It was during one of these silences that I saw her expression shift from happy to thoughtful, and then to what seemed an unpleasant realization. “Hon?” A mask went up in the form of a guarded, disingenuous smile. I hadn’t seen one of those in hours, and I was unhappy about its return. “What’s going on?”

“I just…” She dabbed her eyes. “I figured something out. But I…” The smile felt more real. “I want to think about it a little more, okay? It’s not bad. Or, at least, it’s not bad now. But I want to… to process, I guess. Is that alright? I promise, I’ll explain, once I can.” I slowly nodded, and she took my hand. “I love you. Thank you. For everything today.” Then she laughed. “I was supposed to get you a present, not the other way around!”

When we got home, the door was barely closed before the little black dress came over her head, and her bra joined it on the floor. She hadn’t worn panties, and the come fuck me pumps beckoned me to… well, it’s right there in the name. “Why are you still dressed, Jeff?” Her hips swayed seductively as she made her way to our bedroom, while I hopped on one foot, trying to get out of my damned clothes. It was well worth the struggle, though.

I slept like the dead that night. It had been a rollercoaster day emotionally, starting with a talk I was afraid might have spelled the end of our marriage and ending with a night unlike any I’d had in years. I dreamt of Bonnie and her perfect, pillowy breasts, of her smiling face, of her lips wrapped around my cock, the soft wetness enveloping my—

It wasn’t a dream. Light pierced my eyes, but I didn’t give a damn. I saw the love of my life lying between my legs, red ringlets swaying as her head bobbed up and down. When she realized I was awake, she let my cock slip out of her mouth for just a moment, kissed it, and said, “Good morning, love.”

“Helluva wake-up, hon.” My hand caressed her cheek, and she closed her eyes and purred.

“I didn’t get to do this yesterday, birthday boy. Or Friday.” Bonnie sucked the tip of my cock, teasing me with a little pout. “Forgive me?” Then she took me into her mouth again, and further, into her throat. I groaned and clutched the sheets; I loved when she did this, and it had been so long. 

But then she pulled off again and said, “Your hands don’t belong there, Jeff.” Taking them each in turn, my wife placed them on her head, fingers tangling into her hair. “There. Perfect.” The words were barely out of her mouth before she had swallowed me to the hilt once more.

It was, as ever, heavenly. Even more than yesterday’s, which was the best blowjob I’d gotten from my wife in I couldn’t say how long. This was a different animal entirely: aggressive, sloppy, and noisy. A performance worthy of a porn star, there in my bedroom, with my ultimate fantasy woman. When I pulled at her hair, she moaned; I would say it was theatrical, but it felt completely genuine. She was pleased to please me, and that was the biggest turn-on of all.

It wasn’t long before I was ready to explode. “Bonnie—“

She didn’t hesitate, caressing my balls and humming, milking my glans with her throat. She wanted it, wanted the thing that she normally refused me, and she was doing it purely because it would make me happy. I called her name out once more as my balls emptied themselves into her mouth, her throat, and her stomach. 

Bonnie didn’t manage to capture all of my issue; a bit of spend trickled out of the corner of her mouth. But as I released my grip on her hair and my cock slid from her throat, she dabbed at the remaining seed with a fingertip, then licked it clean. A devilish smile lit up her face. “Happy belated birthday, baby. Ready for breakfast?”

Breakfast was light, as was the conversation. Our back and forth felt effortless and charged in a way that it hadn’t for a long time, a pleasant mix of affection, flirtation, and genuine interest in what the other had to say, even if it wasn’t a topic we had any special interest in. Eventually, there was a lull, much as there had been the night before; this time, though, Bonnie was ready to talk.

“I want to make something clear before we begin: I’m not blaming you, at all, for anything I’m about to say, okay?”

“Uh…”

“I’m serious, Jeff. Some of this may be hard to hear, and some of it may feel like I’m… like I think you did something wrong. And you didn’t–” She sighed. “Or at least not as much as I did.”

Bonnie took a deep breath, and it all spilled out. “I think this, the distance, started when you had that problem with your medicine.”

“My medicine? What… Oh.  Oh!” About five years before, the doctor had put me on blood pressure medicine. It had some unexpected and unpleasant side effects, but I didn’t connect them with the medicine, because they started slowly and ramped up over a couple of months. Eventually, I realized what was causing it, we switched medicines, and everything was fine; all told, it took maybe six months to get everything straightened out. But in the interim…

She nodded. “Yeah. When you… When we couldn’t make love, I got inside my own head. A lot. ‘Am I not attractive anymore? Does he still love me? Is there someone else?’” I opened my mouth to speak, and she smiled sadly. “I know there wasn’t, hon. I know. You’re… God, you’re such a good man. I know you’d never cheat. But…” Another sigh. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about it.”

Bonnie swallowed. “Like I said yesterday, I’ve seen how you look at other women, and I don’t begrudge that, especially since you aren’t a hypocrite about it; I look, too. But when you couldn’t get an erection with me, I just… It hit me in ways I didn’t expect. You could still get hard with a little blue pill, so I figured it was about me. 

“And even though later you didn’t need them anymore after you got on the new blood pressure meds… I dunno. It was still there in the back of my mind. ‘He’s only fucking you because you’re his wife. He’s only staying because he’s a good man.’”

“Bonnie–”

“I know! I know it’s… Like I said, I’m not blaming you. It was irrational. But …” Bonnie shook her head. “I didn’t feel attractive, so I stopped initiating; I figured that you’d let me know when you wanted me. I still wanted you, but I… That first time you couldn’t get hard; it was such a blow to my ego. I didn’t even realize how much at the time. But I can see now that I was afraid that… I knew you’d never reject me. But your body might. So it was safer, I think, to just wait for the times I knew you wanted me. 

“And then we were running around getting Danny off to college, and with Julie’s afterschool activities, and the weekends, and our jobs, and then it became easier to just stick to Thursdays. I still enjoyed it. I did, I swear. But it was always… I was always afraid. Afraid that this would be the time when we’d find out the ED wasn’t just a symptom of bad medication, but a symptom of…” She smiled sadly as a tear fell. “Of our marriage dying.”

“Bonnie, no! I would never–”

“I know that!” She wiped her eyes. “I do. I know that now. And I knew it then, too. But what I felt… I hadn’t even realized I felt all of this until…” She took my hand. “Until you made me understand how wrong I was. When you told me all of those things yesterday about loving my body because of all the scars and wrinkles and not in spite of them. 

“And before that, even, the way you watched me yesterday, the way your body responded, all of it. You made me feel sexy and beautiful in a way I haven’t in a long time.” I opened my mouth. “Don’t! Don’t. You did nothing wrong. I told you that, and I believe it. You kept trying to initiate, and I turned you down. You told me every day that I was beautiful and sexy, and I didn’t believe you. 

“I didn’t tell you how I felt, because I didn’t fully understand it, and what I did understand made me feel… dumb. Dumb for how irrational it was. Angry at being dumb. Afraid… afraid the little voice was right, that you’d eventually realize what I always knew and leave me for someone else. Younger. Prettier.”

“What is it that you ‘knew?’”

Bonnie kissed my hand. “That I had the most handsome man in the world for a husband, and that he was sweet and loving and loyal and kind. That he works hard for his family, he takes care of all of us, and he would do anything to make us happy.” She laughed. “I don’t think guys realize how rare that is. But women do.”

“Most handsome man in the world?”

My wife laughed even louder at that. “Of course, that’s the part you zeroed in on.” She kissed my hand again. “Yes. For the same reasons that you think I’m so beautiful. But it’s true what I said: guys age better than women. Not inherently, but because, as you said, society thinks so. And trust me, babe, you could easily pick up a twenty-five-year-old sugar baby if you tried.” She narrowed her eyes in mock hostility. “I see those wheels spinning, mister.”

“You’re the one that said it!”

Bonnie stood up and moved around the table to sit on my lap. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to distract you, then.” She kissed me lovingly, then drew back. “So, do you have any of those little blue pills left? You might need one today.”

I did. We were like teenagers again, spending the day making love and cuddling, taking breaks to eat and nap. There was one distinct difference, though: we owned our own house with a pool and a privacy fence. In the afternoon, she dragged me outside to “swim.” There was water involved and aerobic exercise, but I’d be hard-pressed to find anything we did at the Olympics. Maybe in the Olympic Village, but that was about it.

As we snuggled together that night, kissing and caressing each other before we drifted off to sleep, I murmured, “Thank you.”

Bonnie nuzzled into my neck and said, “No, thank you. Thank you for not giving up on us. For loving me enough to say something.”

“Do you still want to go to counseling?”

She was silent for a few moments, then said, “Yeah, I think so. Not because there’s anything wrong between us, but to make sure we keep things from going wrong again, you know?”

“Okay.” With a yawn, I closed my eyes and said, “Mmm, I wish we could stay like this forever. Goodnight, beautiful.” I was asleep before I heard her response.

The next morning was a Monday; I sighed with regret as I got out of bed and started getting ready. Bonnie was up by the time I was dressed, already in the shower. I stopped in for a kiss, which she granted. But when I tried for a bit more, my wife chuckled, “Go to work, sir! It’ll still be here when you get home.” A little wink. “Promise.”

With a spring in my step and an erection in my pants, I headed to work. We texted back and forth most of the day, something we hadn’t done in a long time. It wasn’t quite sexting, but Bonnie was clearly trying to keep me aroused. I was pleased, but also amazed; we had been at it all weekend, and she had to be sore. Hell, I was.

That night, Bonnie was home before me. That was rare; she had a longer commute and, frankly, a more demanding job. When I opened the door, she was there, as naked as the day she was born–except for a pair of heels– and just out of view of the neighbors. I could smell something delicious cooking, too. She gave me a big kiss while unbuttoning my shirt. “You’re breaking the rules, love.”

“What?” I helped her undress me; I might have been confused, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“You told me last night that you wished we could stay like this forever. And I can’t promise forever–we’re going to have houseguests sometimes–but…” She smiled and bit her lip. “I like being able to look at you, too. And cuddle with you naked. And have–” Bonnie’s hand trailed up and down the front of my boxers. “–access when I want. And I did tell you that you could have whatever you wanted this weekend; what you wanted was for it to continue.”

“You’re going to let me get away with wishing for more wishes?”

Her nose wrinkled as she laughed. “Only if it’s what I wish for, too. And I do.” Once I was as naked as my wife, she pulled me along to the kitchen. “Now come on; I’ve made us lasagna. I have a little bit more to do on the sides, but you can sit and rest while I do that.”

Taking a seat, I said, “Don’t you want some help? You’ve got to be tired.”

Bonnie laughed as she put her apron on and began to tie it, “Not so much. I took a sick day today and went back to bed after you left. I am very well rested, thank you.”

“So, what did you do with the rest of your day?”

A wry grin. “Besides teasing you?”

“Yes, besides that.”

“Oh, a few things. I got us an appointment with a counselor; I went looking for some of our old toys–” That got my attention. “–and I did a little shopping for some things we were missing.”

“Oh? What?” Nonchalant. Cool. That’s me.

“A little trip to the grocery store for dinner, of course.”

“Ah. Right.”

She laughed loudly. “I’m sorry, baby. Were you thinking maybe whips and chains? I’m a bit sore, you know. Someone really wore me out this weekend.”

“Okay, fair. I’d say I’m sorry, but…”

That wicked little grin. “Yeah, neither am I. Looking forward to more tonight, actually. You up for that?”

“I thought you were sore.”

“Oh, my pussy definitely is.” She turned towards the counter and bent over it, ostensibly to reach for something. Her cheeks parted slightly as she stretched, and I saw a glint of metal there, one I recognized but hadn’t seen in a long time. “Like I said, though, I went looking for our old toys. And I’ve had all day to, ah, reacquaint myself with them. ” A coquettish smile as she glanced over her shoulder. “It’s been a long time, after all. Care to show me how much you’ve missed my ass? Because it’s missed you.”

Dinner would have to wait.