by Sam Anthony
Up a bit.
Just a tad slower.
Now put your hand here.
Deeper, please.
Roll over.
Don’t stroke me there, it tickles.
Just keep doing exactly that.
Change position.
Okay, I’m warmed up enough for you to go down on me now.
These are all things that Tamsin tries to communicate non-verbally, but often I’m left in the dark, quite literally, having to guess what she actually wants me to do. “You should just know what I want!” she says.
If she absolutely has to describe a body part, she’ll always use the correct biological term.
Penis instead of cock, prick or knob.
Testicles instead of balls, nuts or bollocks.
Breasts instead of tits, boobs or knockers.
Bottom instead of arse, bum or butt.
Vagina instead of cunt, pussy or fanny.
Tamsin would certainly never say anything remotely vulgar.
◆◆◆
“Oh my God!” Tamsin purrs, her body still shuddering and spasming with pleasure.
“Did you like that?”
“Hang on a minute.” She sighs and stretches contentedly.
I wait patiently as she basks in the afterglow of what appears to be a particularly enjoyable orgasm. She lies there, eyes closed and a contented smile on her face.
“Okay, Lee. You can speak now.”
“Nice orgasm?”
“Delightful! Where did you learn how to do that?”
Uh-oh!
Sophia taught me. Then she made me practise, over and over again, until I got better at it. Apparently, I’m pretty good now.
“I think I read about it in a magazine article,” I say.
“Lovemaking Weekly?”
“That’s the one.”
“I must remember to write to the editor and thank him. You have my permission to do that to me again whenever you like.”
“Excellent.”
“Now, what can I do for you?” Tamsin says.
I really love our summer vacation.
◆◆◆
We’re on the eighth day of our holiday and it’s going well. Everyone’s having a pleasant time; enjoying the sun, sea, pool, food and drink. John has had a bout of diarrhoea, but he’s on the mend now. Tamsin and I are getting on famously, better than we have for months: enjoying each other’s company; catching up with each other’s lives; reading and discussing the same books; and having lots of awesome sex. It’s a reminder of how good we can be together.
Charlie and John are splashing about in the pool, laughing and playing a game which seems to have complicated and easy to misinterpret rules.
Tamsin is reading her book in the shade of an olive tree and taking occasional sips from a glass of something long and cool.
I pop inside the villa to use the bathroom, and I grab my phone out of the bedside drawer to take with me. I switch it on for the first time in several days to find several notifications. Most of them are uninteresting: items of breaking news, a couple of messages from Jake checking up on us, and unimportant emails which can be responded to at a later date.
There’s also one text message from Sophia.
“Hi.”
Just that.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I thought we’d agreed to no communication during my vacation, so I’m a little peeved about this. After some consideration, I decide the best option is simply to not reply.
I switch my phone off, replace it in the drawer and head back to the pool.
◆◆◆
Tamsin swallows.
“Do you want some water?” I say.
“Yes, please.”
I pass her the bottle from beside the bed and she gulps down half of it.
“That was incredible, Tam. God, you’re so hot!” She hands back the water, and I have a swig myself to replenish my body fluids. All this sweaty sex is dehydrating.
“That’s weird,” Tamsin says, getting up from the floor and joining me on the bed. “That’s exactly what Dave said when he sent me that prank message.”
Get some new material, Lee!
“Really? That is weird. I guess it must have just stuck in my head.”
“Maybe,” she said, unconvinced.
I change the subject. “Have I ever told you how much I enjoy it when you do that?”
“Only every single time I’ve done it.”
So, what’s that, about seven times since we’ve been married? Sophia’s sucked me off more times than that in the last three months! It’s probably best if I don’t say this out loud though.
“I can’t help it. It’s awesome! In fact, I think I can safely say, it’s my favourite thing in the world.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Well, that should definitely inspire Tamsin to up the frequency. Who am I kidding?
◆◆◆
I love oral sex; both fellatio and cunnilingus. To be honest, I’d struggle to pick a favourite. Obviously, receiving it is heavenly, but I thoroughly enjoy performing it too; having the power to give someone the exquisite delight of simply lying back and experiencing pleasure. I’m reluctant to ask Tamsin to go down on me because it always feels like I’m adding to her never-ending list of chores, but I don’t have the same qualms when it comes to Sophia. She engages in it so enthusiastically, it feels as if I’m doing her a favour by allowing her to suck my cock. Tamsin would never ask to receive oral sex, unless she was particularly drunk and horny, but never sober. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell her that I really enjoy it, she’s convinced I’m pretending and, without the dutch courage provided by alcohol, she’s too inhibited to say what she wants. Sophia, on the other hand, expects cunnilingus every time we have sex. She’s just in it for the pleasure and has a total lack of self-consciousness about her body and her desires. There’s something extremely sexy about a woman who has the confidence to demand whatever she wants, whenever she wants it.
◆◆◆
“Are you awake?” Tamsin whispers. Her hand softly stroking my inner thigh and gradually inching its way higher.
I am now.
I glance at the clock. It’s 2:45 a.m. We only had sex two hours ago. Tamsin is insatiable at the moment. It’s wonderful.
“Yes,” I whisper back. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m still horny.” She giggles as she kisses her way down my chest and abdomen, towards my erection.
I think she’s still a bit tipsy too.
◆◆◆
The following day, while everyone else is relaxing post-lunch by the pool, I take my phone to the bathroom, lock myself in and switch it on.
There’s another message from Sophia.
“Hi. Again!”
Followed by another one a few hours later.
“Advance warning: I shall be sending you another message at 12:00 BST tomorrow 3rd August.”
I see.
Sophia isn’t going to let me get away with simply not replying. She’s letting me know that her next text message is not going to be a bland greeting. It’s going to be something for my eyes only, that I wouldn’t want anyone else in my family to see.
I appreciate that she’s missing me and, to be honest, I feel a bit guilty that I’ve hardly thought about her while I’ve been away. However, this seems like a threat. “You’re going to message me, or else…” is the implication.
My initial plan is to reply straight away and instruct Sophia to allow me to enjoy my family holiday in peace. If I tell her I’ll be switching my phone off for the remainder of the vacation, then she won’t be able to contact me. Problem solved.
But, after some consideration, I realise that I can postpone responding until just before noon tomorrow, thereby buying myself nearly twenty-four hours of text-free uninterrupted vacation, before I eventually reply with a polite version of, “leave me alone for a bit.”
I put my phone on charge, as the battery
is low, change the passcode, because it’s been the same for three weeks running, and then turn it off.
◆◆◆
I’m a leg man. Tamsin reckons I’m obsessed with breasts, but my preference is long, shapely legs. Legs like Tamsin’s: some curvaceous muscle on the thighs and toned calves that look great in high heels. A golden brown tan helps too. Tamsin’s legs are always at their best on our summer vacation; the result of a few months of outdoor tennis and a couple of days sunbathing. I can’t keep my eyes or my hands off them. When we’re making love, I imagine I’m watching us from a dark corner of the room or peering in through the window like a voyeur. Before me, I can see my cute, little white bottom, pounding away in between Tamsin’s lovely brown legs, spread wide open just for me, or wrapped around my waist or neck. What a view! I’m a lucky guy, and the best part is, I don’t have to imagine it when we’re on vacation, because it actually happens.
◆◆◆
The next day, when the kids finally surface at around eleven o’clock, Charlie requests a full-English breakfast at a beach-side cafe. Tamsin and John think this a wonderful idea, but it rather interferes with my plans for midday.
“I might give it a miss if nobody minds,” I say, surprising everyone, as I’m normally the first person to suggest a hearty fried breakfast.
“Are you feeling okay?” Tamsin asks, mildly concerned.
“Yeah. I think so. I’ve been having a few strange tummy rumblings, so I’d rather not be too far from a loo, just in case I need to go in a hurry.”
“TMI, Dad!” John says, making a face at me.
“It’s probably nothing, but I’d rather not risk it. You guys go without me,” I say.
“Are you sure, Dad?”
“Yeah. It’ll give me a chance to read my book in peace for a while, without you two squealing in the pool and distracting me.”
“Okey-dokey. Get ready then, kids. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes,” Tamsin says.
◆◆◆
It was more like forty minutes, but they’ve finally left and I’ve retrieved my phone, switched it on and found some welcome shade under the olive tree. It’s scorching hot today. There’s not a cloud in the sky, but a slight sea breeze is making the weather more bearable.
My stomach is properly rumbling now. I feel fine, but the thought of a big plate of fried eggs, bacon, sausages, baked beans, fried bread, black pudding and hash browns is making me extremely hungry.
It’s just before noon, and I’m composing my text message to Sophia to request that she leaves me in peace for the remainder of my family vacation. I’m struggling to find the appropriate tone. I don’t want to be too harsh because I’m flattered that she’s missing me so much, but then again, I need to be firm about the boundaries that should be in place when we’re with our families. Rule eight is there for a reason.
After a few fruitless minutes, I give up trying and determine to just wait for Sophia’s message, and see what she’s got to say for herself.
At 12:00 on the dot, my phone buzzes.
It’s Sophia.
“Hi, babe. I miss you so much. Xxx”
That’s not too bad. I type my reply. “I thought we agreed to have a two-week communication break.”
“I’m going crazy here all alone. How are you?”
“I’m on my family vacation! You have to stop sending me messages.”
“I’m really missing you, babe. Are you missing me too?”
“You said that already. I need you to stop this. We’ll talk when I get home.”
“Is she with you now?”
“No. I’m on my own, but I have to go.”
“Have you got time for phone sex? I could call you!!!”
“You’re not listening to me.”
“Would you like me to send a very naughty photo of me in my new see-through lingerie?!!”
That’s enough. I switch on caps lock.
“READ THE NEXT BIT CAREFULLY: I’m on holiday with my family. After I’ve sent this FINAL message, I’ll be turning off my phone and leaving it off until I step off the plane back in England. DO NOT CONTACT ME ANYMORE. Have another look at the rules. We’ll talk at work.”
I send it.
Before I have the chance to turn off my phone, I get an incoming message from Sophia. It’s a photo. She’s sprawled provocatively on a bed, wearing only some sheer sexy underwear I’ve never seen before. She looks absolutely ravishing, and I can already feel a stirring in my loins. The accompanying message says, “This is what you’re missing! Xxxxx”
I sigh, delete the photo and all the messages, switch off my phone and go and find something to eat.
◆◆◆
On the last full day of our vacation, it becomes apparent that Tamsin is leaving holiday mode and moving back towards mother, housewife and teacher mode. She becomes irritated by the smallest thing, and I can see her shoulder muscles tightening as she gets more and more stressed, especially after I tell her to relax. She pauses scrubbing the toilet bowl and takes a few minutes to let me know all the things that are on her mind: packing, cleaning the villa, getting to the airport on time, stocking the fridge at home, all the washing and ironing we’ve accumulated over the past two weeks, school work, buying new uniforms and P.E. kit for the kids, getting a wax at the beautician’s … The list goes on, but I tune out and focus instead on the sunlight reflecting off the waves in the bay. I’m going to miss it here. The views, the tranquility, the lovemaking.
Conversation is stilted at our final meal, and Tamsin has barely touched her cocktail. The kids are still in good form, but the banter isn’t what it was.
When we get back to the villa, we all head straight to bed for an early night as we need to wake up at an ungodly hour to catch our flight home.
Tamsin is looking at herself in the bathroom mirror while she brushes her teeth. I go and stand behind her, put my hands on her hips and start to kiss her neck, employing my infallible seduction technique.
I slowly slide my hands upwards and cup her breasts.
Tamsin tolerates it for as long as it takes her to clean her teeth, rinse and spit, then she wipes her mouth on the nearest towel.
“Right. Let’s get some sleep,” she says.
She forces her way out of my arms, takes a couple of painkillers out of her toiletries bag and washes them down with water.
She stretches and fakes a yawn.
“I’m so sleepy,” she says and climbs into bed.
So that’s it.
No more hot sex with my wife for the next fifty weeks.
My thoughts turn to Sophia.
Chapter Twelve
The Reconciliation
It’s not until we’re in the car, driving home from the airport, that I switch on my phone.
It was a terrible journey. After a restless night at the villa, with not enough sleep for any of us, and a headache-inducing early start with two grumpy kids, we arrived at the airport in plenty of time for our flight, only to discover that it had been delayed by three hours. Unable to sleep at the airport or in the tiny seats on the plane, we arrived in the U.K. feeling tired and miserable. The overcast skies and heavy drizzle as we made our way from the plane to the terminal building didn’t help lift our moods. John’s suitcase was the last one to appear on the luggage belt, so we were the last people off our flight to pass through customs. Then we found ourselves at the back of the queue to collect our car from the long-stay car park. By the time we’d battled through the wind and rain back to our car, we were all fed up, and Tamsin and I were considering never going on holiday abroad again. Having had slightly more sleep than me, Tamsin kindly volunteered to drive the first part of the long journey home.
With trepidation, I see my phone come to life.
I don’t know what to expect from Sophia. It could be anything: a tirade of abuse, a heartfelt apology, a sexual fantasy, a series of naked photos, a warm welcome back to the country.
There’s nothing.
I can’t help feel
ing disappointed.
Nothing.
Now we’re back in the country, and Tamsin is reverting to her usual ice-queen self, I was beginning to look forward to spending some alone-time with Sophia. Don’t get me wrong; Tamsin is now, and will always be, my favourite person in the world to make love to, but Sophia is an outstanding surrogate.
But there’s nothing.
Does Sophia hate me now?
Is it all over?
If it is over, is that a good thing or a bad thing?
I guess I’ll find out at work on Monday.
◆◆◆
I try not to have favourites. I like everything equally. At least, that’s what I always say.
Tamsin will try on several outfits before a party and ask me which one I prefer. I always say I like them all equally. It doesn’t go down well, but I’ve come to realise that my opinion doesn’t actually matter. She knows which one she prefers, and that’s the one she’s going to wear, whatever I say. If I chose the frumpiest outfit, she’d accuse me of thinking she was old; if I chose the most revealing outfit, we’d probably have a row about how I always want her to dress like a slut. My sexy is her slutty. It’s best if I express enthusiasm for them all equally. Even if Tamsin presents me with five dowdy dresses, the sort her mother would wear, I still have to fake equal enthusiasm for them all, if only to avoid conflict. If we have a disagreement before a party, it significantly reduces my chances of getting any action afterwards.
I once told my mum that my favourite meal was gammon and chips. Big mistake. Ever since, whenever we visit her and Greg, she always prepares a replica meal of gammon and chips. Every time! Where’s the variety? Where’s the effort?
Sometimes Sophia asks me what my favourite position is for having sex. This is something Tamsin would never do, as it would require us to have a conversation about lovemaking, which she avoids at all costs. When Sophia asks, as she does regularly, I’ll always say that I like them all equally. Simply seeking information, she doesn’t mind which one I choose, but it’s become my habit to not commit to a preference. Hopefully, Sophia will keep coming up with new and creative options until we find the ultimate sexual position.