Three Secrets

It's mid-morning. The day is bright and cool and lazy.

They are in their bedroom. The shades are open. So are the windows.

Sun streams onto the bed and floor and one entire wall.

The covers are rustled and mostly shoved aside.

They haven't spoken a word in some ten minutes. His mind is adrift with a half-dozen thoughts. Her mind is tightly focused.

She's on top. Her preferred position. Her fingers are splayed across his chest. She feels every finger. But they are not moving.

His hands are on her thighs. No intent in particular. You could say they just ended up there.

She's doing what could be considered grinding. She's moving equally forward and backward as much as up and down.

He's not making a single movement. He is not lifting his pelvis for her. He is not contributing anything to moment except a rigid penis.

His mind is so adrift that his orgasm is not imminent.

She is so focused that her orgasm could be scheduled to the moment.

She is well aware of his mental state. And that is contributing to hers. She does not know what is flowing through his mind, but she is quietly grateful for whatever is going on there.

She's younger than him by some seven years. She married him in her youth and never looked back. He is a good man. A dear man. A strong man. And a dedicated man. She treasures him.

His libido is an eleven on a scale of ten. Sex seven times a day would be sufficient for him. He is gentle with her, not demanding or demeaning.

To say he takes charge of sex is equal to saying the wind drives the sailboat. Meaning he suggests, initiates, stimulates, and motivates. And he's good at all of them. Her sex life is outstanding.

Except for one thing. A sailboat cannot, does not, let loose without the wind. Meaning she rarely, if ever, lets loose. He is so intense, and so passionate, that like a sailboat, she is along for the ride. And a very good ride it is.

Except she'd sometimes like to let loose. She doesn't want to lead. She does not want to take charge. She sometimes just want him to lower the intensity so that she can control her body, her pleasure.

And on this day it is happening. His mind is adrift and she is grinding at her own pace.

But three other things are also going on. Three things that she wants, likes, desires, enjoys. Three things he has no idea are happening. The secrets she keeps form him.

First her body language. A woman has tremendous control over her body movements. Most of the time women practice some form of restraint. It's part of being a lady.

On this day, at this moment, she is bodily out of control. Her grinding is all out. She puts force into it. She's softly grunting with each push. The muscles in her lower back and abdomen are getting an intense workout. She's loving it. The feel of him inside her is different than usual, different than when he is in control.

In addition, her breasts do not have the typical bounce of sex. Her breasts have no symmetry in their movements, because her body is not uniformly grinding. The up and down, and back and forth, are all over the map.

He is not aware of her breasts. And she likes that. Typically, usually, he fondles them as they bounce up and down. Today, at this moment, he'd have to wrestle with them to enjoy them. She likes the feeling her breasts are giving. It very much a part of that feeling, that desire, that pleasure of freely letting go.

Second, this moment of sex is not an act of love. Yes, they love each other. Deeply. But at this moment she is using his erection fully for her pleasure. She is not using him as sex toy or dildo or the like. She is using him as a male human being with an engorged penis, but she does not have to share it's separate desires. At the moment, his penis is hers. And she likes it this way at this moment.

She likes the reality that the male and the penis are the center of marital sexuality. She likes its myriad ways of giving pleasure and of being a pleasure, of being the focus, of being the symbol of fun and pleasure and fertility and lust.

But at this moment it is only the center of what she wants and what she can wring out of it. And she is set on wringing every ounce of pleasure she can from it. It asks for nothing back, and she is not concerned about it's pleasure, just her own.

Third, she hears voices. With her windows open, with her shades open, with sex in the middle of the morning, and with her windows in clear view of the street, she is amply aware of her predicament.

Women typically do not want distractions in sexual moments. Women typically do not want leering eyes at all, but especially during intimacy. Women typically do not want anything but tightly controlled privacy.

Her predicament is no fantasy or game or perversion. She hears voices and if she was to focus she would see people, if not faces. Their urban home, her bedroom window is on all but on the street. But she has no intention of putting any focus on what is happening outside her window.

Her focus is on her mood, her body, all the sensations, all the movements. She grinds at her pace. She feels more, three times more, than she does when he is the wind in the sail of their sex life.

But she hears the voices and it feeds something within her vanity. She feels beautiful at the moment. Not quite a greek or roman goddess, but something similar. She's modest with clothes on. She's modest with a bathing suit on. She's modest before and after a shower.

But right now she's not at all modest and she likes it. She senses the drive of a woman to have her nude figure chiseled in marble. She senses the pleasure of a scantily dressed woman to be photographed on the red carpet. She's not being modest and she finds great pleasure in it.

She has no idea if she's being watched, admired, desired, or lusted after, but at the moment she wishes for all those things and ten times more. She doesn't want the moment to stop. She wants to be seen and wanted and desired. She wants men and women wanting her, envious of her, admiring her physical, sexual beauty, her naked body. She wants all of them aroused by just seeing her, watching her.

Slowly, very slowly, from deep within she feels her orgasm coming, the first of three. It start so very small, but she can feel every single bit of it. It comes slowly, but it builds greatly.

She holds nothing back. Her repeated moans and cries and exclamations surprise him, but they do not surprise her. She lets it all loose intentionally. She holds nothing back. No inhibitions. She is verbal, and she roars with delight.

His mind quickly comes back to him from wherever it was adrift. He realizes he was lost in the moment.

When she slows down, he touches the dripping sweat on her chest. She smiles. Never looks out the window, but rolls off of him, next to him, and says, "I love you. Thank you."