The Pressures of Marital Sex

Yesterday, Carol said she will be free next weekend, so throughout the day I found a babysitter and booked a hotel for our weekend getaway. Our plan is to just enjoy some time together with shopping and drinking. ‘No pressure’ I said when I first brought up the idea but as I told her during last weekend’s argument, of course sex would be on my mind. In fact, while making arrangements for the weekend trip, I found myself feeling incredibly nervous. I was feeling the pressure to perform.

Carol went to visit with old friends last night. Her friend, Kelly, drove so Carol was free to booze it up as much as she wanted, but she suspected she wouldn’t be very late, seeing as Kelly is a mother of three and didn’t go out often.

Interesting side note, Kelly and I had sex many years ago at Carol’s house. We were both single and Carol tried to pair us up. I wasn’t into it so I quit part way through. For some reason it’s never been awkward or anything. It’s like it never happened. It almost never crosses my mind, but writing brings out old memories.

While Carol was out last night, I watched a movie with the kids, put them to bed, then passed the time playing video games and having some beers of my own. It kept getting later and later but I didn’t want to go to bed until she was home. Finally, after midnight she came home. I could tell she had quite a few drinks.

“Wow, you’re later than when you went out there alone last time. How did you keep Kelly there?” I asked.

“I kept drinking and waiting for her to say it’s time to go…” she responded.

Carol told me how many beers she had. I can’t even recall the last time she had that many. She told me a bit about the fun time she had, I finished my beer, then we went to get ready for bed.

She flashed her boobs while changing into her sleeping clothes, which I appreciated, then she got into bed. I slipped in behind her on her side of the bed to spoon and rub her back.

We laughed and joked with each other, buzzing from our beverages, and Carol started talking about her evening again, how her friends were, and how their jobs and families were doing.

She talked about getting more time off at work and how much more helpful the owners have been lately in letting that happen.

“Did you tell them why you were taking next weekend off?” I asked.

“No, I just told them I’m leaving that weekend.”

“They don’t know about you being back at home with me?”

“I don’t talk to them about my personal life anymore. I’m trying to keep that separate now.”

“Good call,” I said. “You probably remember me warning you years ago about getting too personal there.”

“Yeah, you were right. The girls (her friends she saw tonight) know about it though and they’re happy for us. They hope we stay together.”

The change in tone in the conversation was making me feel more sober and she started to sound more sober.

“Am I doing enough as your wife? I feel like I haven’t really changed,” she said.

“Yes, you’re doing great. What do you mean? You’ve been a lot happier and more affectionate. You seem to enjoy your job a lot more, you said so.”

“Hm. But is there anything you need me to do?”

“Not really. Just make sure you’ve cut off contact with him as much as possible. Especially all your social media accounts.”

“I have.”

“Stay far away. He’s dangerous.”

“I know.”

“I mean it. That suicide attempt, I feel it was for your attention. It could get worse.”

“I know. I’m staying away. Hopefully he will be removed from his job soon. His parents keep talking about it. When he’s gone, his salary can be split up between the managers and I.”

“It should all go to you for doing both his job and yours all this time.”

I brought it back to her feeling like she hasn’t changed, “What do you mean by that? You must see the differences too.”

“I do, but I feel inside like I haven’t changed enough.”

It was tough to understand but she tried to explain about how she wanted more spontaneity in our sex life but at the same time, she wouldn’t let me be spontaneous because I had to fit in her world a certain way. And in that world, sex had to be scheduled and the goal was only intercourse.

“And so my morning friskiness was rejected because my behaviour didn’t fit into the box you put me in?” I asked.

“Yes, it’s my problem. I’m working through that though. I’m trying to be a better wife.”

“You are being a better wife just by trying. You have changed for the better.”

“And I wasn’t trying before even though you were always trying and being supportive.”

“I had my own problems…” I said.

“They were our problems,” she replied. “But I wasn’t there for us. I didn’t put in the effort. But I’m trying. I’m working on it. I’m trying to be more affectionate.”

“Don’t try so much that it becomes a chore,” I said. “Do I still make you nervous when I’m touch you like now?”

“No, you don’t make me nervous and I feel comfortable with you touching me.”

I playfully touched her a bit and kissed her. It was really late now.

“Finish getting ready for bed so we can properly lay down and snuggle,” she said.

I did and layed down next to her on my side of the bed. I left a light on though, so I sat up to turn it off. I then turned to Carol to give her a goodnight kiss.

We kissed. We kissed some more. Before I knew it, our hands were in each other’s pants. With my attention focused on her and not on anxiety over being physically ready for intercourse, it seems my body worked just fine on its own. I noticed this, but decided not to interrupt what we were doing and potentially spoil the moment, especially since what was happening was feeling good, really good. I came.

I continued to touch Carol while she guided me. It was like being with a new person, the first time you start to take it a little further in a new relationship. She was so unlike the miserable woman who just wanted me to put it in and get it over with. Was it the beer or is she really so different now?

We continued for quite a while, but I couldn’t get her to finish. Eventually, I stopped.

“Sorry, I think it’s because I had too much to drink,” she said.

“Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing we have to do. If certain things don’t happen, so be it. There’s no failure here, no requirements,” I told her. No pressure.

Either it was too much alcohol or I was out of practice. I figured maybe I’d get her off next weekend. Speaking of which, looks like we took away the pressure to get sexual during that trip. We already got sexual, it was spontaneous and it didn’t have to end with intercourse. That was amazing progress in the sexual expectations of our relationship.

Shortly after we lay down to finally get some sleep, I found myself become fully at attention again. That seemed impossible. What am I, a teenager again? I thought. Carol was already fast asleep, so I left it be and went to sleep too.

How strange. We were both so different than before. Who are we? Maybe we forgot a long time ago and are starting to discover ourselves again. Maybe we never truly did know ourselves before.

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