Listening to him

If you have ever been in a very long relationship, you know about dead bedrooms. It can seem like an impossible problem, but not always…

My husband and I have been married for 20 years and we have kids. One night, after a long dry spell (weeks) while we were fighting, I woke up at 3:30am and heard it. That subtle rhythmic sound under the covers.

At first I was disgusted. When he had done this before, I was horrified by it, “what are you doing?!” And I shoved him. He stopped.

This time, I just listened and figured I would let him have his fun. Then get back to sleep. If he got extra loud, and made it obvious, or he realized I was awake, I would call him out on it like I had before.

Yes, obviously he wanted sex, and I am his wife, but it was complicated. I had no sex drive, had been suffering from a chronic illness, and the thought of sex with him was repulsive to me. I have always had a lower sex drive than his impossibly high one.

I was still, quiet. Waiting. But it wasn’t ending. He went faster and I almost said something, but didn’t. I tried to sleep, but couldn’t. How long would this go on?

After about 20 minutes, I felt his hand lightly against my arm. He was still going. He seemed close to orgasm and I kept hoping to get back to sleep, but wondering if it would ever stop.

Then it happened. I remembered the long lovemaking sessions we would have when we were younger. And a part of me wished we were newlyweds again, and it wasn’t so complicated. He has always insisted he loves me, despite his constant absence, and is an amazing dad and provider. I have felt averse to him for years, and know he was having an affair (which is done with). We are faithful Christians and divorce is not an option for us. The kids need their mom and dad together.

I looked at the clock. 4:15. It had been 45 minutes. I realized a part of me wished I could roll over on top of him for another 45. But, in my mind, there was no way he deserved that. I hated him and needed to remember that.

But, with the audaciousness of what he was doing, my imagination took hold of me. I felt it seethe between my legs, and throughout my body. I tried to push back the romantic things he had done for me over the years. The little love notes. The hugs. And suddenly I felt connected with him again, in sort of a distinctly carnal but spiritual way.

I finally let my instincts get the better of me. I rolled an away a bit and his hand fell off my arm, then I quietly slid my hand between my legs. The moment I touched myself, I felt an orgasm coming, and tried to stop it. He had gone quiet.

Mortifying.

I couldn’t stop it, but COULDN’T let him know. The bastard. So I tried to hold it, stifle it, but that just made it worse, and it grew inside me like a huge wave.

I clenched my fists and shuddered once, then again, slipping in a cough, and then silently let it grip me in what seemed like endless contracting spasms. I held them inside, keeping almost perfectly still.

When it was over I felt as though I had succeeded. He had only heard a cough and maybe seen one shudder. To him, it was nothing but a chill. I sat up and took a drink of water. He seemed to be asleep.

I nestled into my pillow. But there it was again.

The sound.

Still?

How could this be happening? How could I be feeling this way about the man who was ruining my life? The man who cheated on me? The man I hated so hard every day of my life!

He got a bit louder, and I almost whacked his arm. But I didn’t. I couldn’t stop feeling him inside me. Working me. Owning me in my resentment. I hated him all the more.

4:30.

Over the decades he had learned my body and in his 40’s he had learned good control. I thought of the role plays we did in our 30’s. I was the innocent virgin in my bedroom after prom. He overcomes my defenses with pure confidence, a soothing voice, easy hands. My dress is off and he is entering me for the first time. I become a woman, my body embracing his over and over until the wee hours as my parents sleep downstairs, oblivious.

I touched, again silently, accepting the inevitable, hoping to get ahead of it. Temper it. But it was just as strong. My body grew tense and I cried inside that he could not see the trembling. The spasms in my legs.

I felt its grip begin to ease and listened, wondering if he had heard. Terrified he had.

Minutes of silence. Then I felt his fingertips on my arm again. He was slowly sliding his finger over my skin, slick. “Oh good, he came,” I thought, and pushed his hand away with disgust.

Merciful silence. It was over.

But then it wasn’t.

The arrogance. The conceit. The degeneracy of him.

He couldn’t win. Not this easily.

But five more minutes and I had my wish as I listened to his snore.

——
This was the night that sparked new life into our bedroom. Curious to hear if other wives/girlfriends have had this experience or something like it.

TL;DR: I listen to my husband masturbate in Ben while he thinks I’m sleeping. I know he wants sex, but am angry with him. I secretly get off to it but don’t let him know.