Wakeup Call

I squirm with pleasure, moan, and forgive. Forgiveness for all the precious years, untouched, unloved, this is the moment that unites us.

By Anne Lomberg on November 5, 2023 -
Updated on November 8, 2023

Also available in German

My mother always says sex is completely overrated when I tell her about my fears about long-term relationships. It’s not that I break up straight away, but it always happens according to the same pattern and not gradually rather abruptly. Suddenly, there’s no more intimacy apart from hugs and kisses. And this sexless phase can go on for months, even years, without anyone commenting on it or questioning it until finally, at least in my case, there is a breakup. This recurring sequence makes me sad, and I can’t understand how other people get used to it. When I think back, I never caught my parents making love, and our apartment was small. My room was right next to theirs. Sometimes, I woke up at night and pressed my ear firmly against the wall to maybe hear a little sigh, a contented rhythmic moan, or the creaking of the wooden frame, but there was nothing. It was always quiet, and we are talking about a period of more than sixteen years. Of course, I can’t remember the years as a baby, but I’m afraid they were busy with other things. I once read that mothers perceive the time with a baby so intensely that they often don’t feel the need for sex.

“You can’t keep breaking up with your partner every time there’s less sex after three years or more,” she says in a shrill tone, half glancing over her shoulder as she does the dishes. “Where are we going with this? A relationship is all about cohesion, mastering the tasks of everyday life together, building something sustainable, and sticking with it.” She shakes her head. “This generation makes me angry.” I look at my fingers, which look quite ragged. The skin around the fingertips on my thumbs, in particular, is covered in deep cracks. “But Mom, that doesn’t mean I’m abandoning my relationship with Danny. I’m just sharing my thoughts with you.”
“Right, but hearing that again, I know how the story will end. Danny is such a good man,” she sighs; I can tell she’s disappointed in her hunched posture and the way she throws the last plates into the water. She’s right when she talks about our generation. We give up too quickly; perhaps we have never learned what true cohesion means, or perhaps we have simply learned to be responsible on our own. It’s not as if Danny would change anything about our situation. We’re both stuck in this dilemma where we live together day in and day out but not really with each other.

When I get home, Danny is already waiting for me. The smell of roasting aromas has spread throughout the apartment, and I go into the kitchen, where he’s busy frying, hugging him from behind. I’ve missed him. I let go with a sigh and open a window. “Oh yes, very good idea. While you’re at it, you might as well get some plates out. Dinner’s almost ready.” he says, half looking over his shoulder, just like my mom a few hours ago, weird flashback. “How was your mom’s?” “Oh, okay, you know how she is, always chatting about the neighbors.” I didn’t want to tell him about our conversations or my thoughts that I was considering ending our relationship. “Okay, hey, hun? Can you please get the wine out of the fridge and get everything ready? Thanks!” he calls from the kitchen as I place plates and cutlery on our dining table. This is the table where we sit every single evening and morning, talking about our day or saying goodbye with a fleeting kiss. When we first met, we fucked on this table like rabbits. My pussy was the feast, and he had eaten every last drop of it. I have to laugh at that thought. “Hun? Are you all right?”
“Yeah, sorry, I’ll get everything ready, just a sec.”

Once I wake up at night, I don’t fall asleep so quickly. It’s been happening more often lately. I nibble on my cuticles again while Danny snoozes contentedly beside me, wrapped only in a sheet. The nights are unbearably warm these summer days, and although we both go to bed naked, it hasn’t occurred to us to take advantage of this welcome state. It’s funny how you look at the other at some point, being naked as if taking off clothes in a changing room. You appreciate the different bodies and shapes, but nothing happens. I slowly pull down my blanket and look at the black triangle below my belly button.

Gentle rays of light herald the dawn; it must be six o’clock soon. With light touches of my fingertips, I wander over my nipples, which immediately stiffen up to my pubic hair. Only tentatively do I venture between my thighs to touch my sweaty lips. They are swollen and receptive, ready to be conquered finally. The first drops of arousal caress my fingertips, and I turn to Danny. As I look at his face and explore my wet opening, I remember our first dates when we didn’t know exactly what was going to happen to us. The emotions of every single kiss, every single touch, completely overwhelmed us. It was almost too much to bear. When he penetrated me, each time felt like the first; he stretched me perfectly. His cock was the perfect tool that plunged in, settled, and triggered an exhilarating feeling of happiness. I close my eyes for a moment, a small sigh escaping my lips as I feel Danny’s hand on mine and the slight pressure as he searches for the fingers that have already disappeared inside me.

Our eyes meet; I peer shyly through my lashes, my cheeks glowing, as well as the inner walls that firmly enclose my fingers. He’s watching me, that lustful gaze; I’ve missed it. Without taking his eyes off me, he sets the rhythm of my fingers and slowly pushes them deeper, only to let them slide out of me again. The sucking sound releases all my inhibitions. I squirm with pleasure, moan, and forgive. Forgiveness for all the precious years, untouched, unloved, this is the moment that unites us. His pupils dilate as he suddenly pulls the sheet off his exposed body and my wrist to his cock. My damp fingers wet his rigid length, which moves hastily up and down at my touch. God, how I’ve longed for this feeling, his cock in my hands, his arousal, the right tool just waiting to penetrate me, to stretch me until I’m completely filled. I turn my gaze away from him, turn around, and push my bottom towards him.

My body trembles; I can feel him parting my buttocks with his hands as his cock pushes between my labia. He holds my thighs together with firm pressure and guides his now-wet glans closer and closer to my opening. I whine and sigh impatiently for his penetration. Our favorite position becomes pure torture. His fingers explore my bottom while mine try to get his cock to its destination. I have to have him inside me. “Danny, please fuck me.” A low grumble, and suddenly, he picks up pace, rubbing his entire length faster between my tight thighs, clutching my hips. The heat that surrounds us floods the whole room; it’s humid, moist like my pussy. I can feel the sunrise on my skin and his cock welcoming the long-awaited perfect morning with a deep thrust. Solid, pervasive perfection, oh, how I’ve missed you.

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