break protocol and claw my way over Chastity Mountain—the person-sized hump that has formed in the middle of our mattress from a total lack of spooning, cuddling, and other fun middle-of-the-bed activities—to Ken’s side of the hill. He lifted his arm to let me in but made no other allowances. Ken was obviously humoring me, but I was having a moment, and he was going to get cuddled on whether he liked it or not.
Earlier that day, Sara (Dr. Snow to you) had just blown my mind by revealing that she’d just slept with a guy we used to work with, who just so happened to be waaaay married. I wasn’t freaking out because she’d fucked a married man. Whatever, she’s single, and in my opinion, where a married man puts his penis is his problem. I was freaking out because this particular dude was the last person on planet Earth I would have expected to cheat on his wife.
I wasn’t worried about Ken being unfaithful. Let’s be honest. He can’t handle the amount of sex and affection he has in his life as it is. He’s damn sure not going to go looking for more. If I were ever to catch Ken sneaking around behind my back, it would be so that he could spend more time alone, probably in a shabby motel room with the AC cranked up, the curtains drawn, and Sports Center on one glorious uninterrupted loop.
No, my unease with the situation had to do with my own behavior. It’d suddenly become very important to me that I reassure Ken that I would never, ever have sex with another man, regardless of the smut I was writing about in my journal. All I’d wanted was for this little writing project of mine to encourage Ken to step up his game, but it’d suddenly dawned on me that I could be pushing him away.
So, there I lay, with my head on Ken’s chest, blubbering about how much I loved him, while he stared over my head at the glowing screen behind me. The longer I spoke without so much as a squeeze in response, the more self-conscious I became. Eventually, I shut off my love tap and just surrendered to the fact that the Atlanta Falcons had won again—not the game, but the war.
Just as I was settling into a thick, comforting fog of resignation, Ken unexpectedly lifted his hips and pulled off his boxer briefs in one fluid motion. I had no idea what was going on. I always sleep naked, but Ken needs the clinging cotton chastity belt of his boxer briefs to feel secure.
The next thing I knew, I was being rolled onto my back, and Ken’s mouth was everywhere. His hard, naked body was pressed against the length of mine. His hands found my hands and clutched them tightly above my head. His legs sought entrance between my own, and his rock-hard erection rubbed aggressively against my suddenly wet cleft while he bathed my shoulders, neck, and jaw in kisses and love bites.
What the fuck?!?!
I hadn’t even touched him! Usually, it would take ten minutes of foreplay to get this guy hard, and then I’d be the one guiding him onto his back.
I was so stunned that I’d forgotten to kiss him back for a few seconds. I just lay there, trying to process what was happening.
Oh my God…Ken got his first emorection!
Once I finally shook off the initial shock, I wriggled my hands out of Ken’s grasp, grabbed his face, and pulled it to my mouth. His suddenly empty hands were then free to tug gently at my hair, skim my sides, and trace slow, torturous circles around my nipples as he continued to rub himself against my slick, swollen flesh. Just as I felt the firm tip of his cock poised at my opening, Ken lifted his head and gazed down at me with such warmth and such reverence that I almost didn’t recognize him. It was as if he’d been hijacked by a body snatcher.
Planting my feet firmly on the bed, I lifted my hips toward him and accepted Ken’s love. He couldn’t say it with words, the way I just had, but he made me feel it. For possibly the first time ever, my husband made love to me.
Unfortunately, the intensity completely overwhelmed him, and he came within a few minutes, but even that had been raw and passionate and just provided further proof that Ken really had been